"You mean—" he said, his voice cold and hard. Already his happiness of the past two days was stealing away from him.
"She loves Morgan Talbot with her whole intense nature. If he is not saved I fear almost anything. You know her mother's end? It is your chance, Sargent—"
"My chance!" Sargent stood up, repeating the words that had rung in his ears for so many hours, though now the accent spoke of dead hope. Still saying them over to himself as if seeking for some hidden meaning in the mere sound of the words, he left Judge Houston and walked to the far end of the garden.
The old gentleman followed him, finally standing beside him when he leaned on the fence.
After a long silence, his glance still riveted on the ground before him, Sargent spoke:
"Are you quite sure?" he murmured. "There might be some mistake—yet."
Judge Houston moved nearer him, his whole face showing his surprise. It was a phase of Sargent's character that he had not seen before.
"I was not certain until I carried her to the jail to see Morgan," he said slowly. "That night I knew he meant everything to her. It was a silly dream of ours ever to hope for anything else. As well as we knew her, we should have been sure of her love for the man she would marry. Why did you, of all of us, hope for any change?"
Sargent lifted his face with a quivering flash of anger.
"Why did I hope? Why did I think my chance had come?" he burst out with vehemence. "Are you so old that the meaning of love and all its joy have been forgotten? Do you think that because I have sunk all desires and cravings into my ambition, that covered up in my heart was no passion? I am only a human being—with all the pent-up yearnings for what I see others possessing. Why should I not use my opportunity now that it has come to me? I will, Great God, I will! Don't stop me! I'm going to her to plead my cause, to lay my love before her. She will not refuse it—she shall not. There is a time in every man's life when he must forget everything but himself! I am going to do that now!"