He stretched out both hands to Judge Houston.
"Thank God!" he murmured, "my dear, dear friend. It was left to you to stand by me and show me the way." He wrung the old gentleman's hands, then turned resolutely, with the upward lift of his head that was more eloquent than ever before. "Now let us go to Morgan. My work begins there first."
Judge Houston slipped his arm through Sargent's as they strolled back to the house.
"And afterwards—to Natalia. She needs you, too."
"No—not yet," Sargent answered, the glow of the great thought burning deeply in his eyes. "Later—when I have shown her what my love can do; then—perhaps—but not before!"
CHAPTER XI
A ROAD TO HAPPINESS
The Judge's surmise as to the verdict of the coroner's jury had proved to be true. It had seemed wise, therefore, to proceed quickly with the trial in order to avoid inflaming the already excited sentiment of Jervais' adherents. Now the first day of the trial was ending. Natalia stood on the veranda waiting for Judge Houston; he was to take her to see Morgan.
The approaching evening brought to her strange, restless thoughts; an overwhelming rush of emotions which had so filled her for the last four days. She felt, as she stood alone, with all the old, familiar surroundings about her, that she was being pushed relentlessly on towards a situation which, for some unknown reason, she dreaded. A change had come over her; already she felt the great influence of the tragedy upon her life. It had opened the more serious side of her nature, unchaining characteristics which had been felt only vaguely heretofore. The very depths of sympathy seemed to have stirred within her; a closer relationship to those about her made her realize that before she had viewed the world through the eyes of a happy egoism. Now she was an integral part of life, bearing her burden as the endless thousands had done before her. With this realization had come a feeling of strength, of capacity, of endurance; and a determination to make the ties which had bound her and Morgan more full of meaning and purpose.
Breaking through this comforting purpose came, at moments, a strange restlessness. It always forced itself upon her after her visits to Morgan. After the first night in the jail, she had gone to him every day, spending several hours in the little white-washed room where the iron bars across the window kept their surroundings palpably before them. She had hoped that after the first night of suffering and despondency Morgan would gradually drift back into the buoyancy which had seemed always such an integral part of his nature. She had expected that to help him towards a more hopeful outlook. But it was quite the other way. The weight of the crime had fallen with a crushing blow upon the man who had known nothing but a care-free life during his thirty years. The courage in his eyes had died out; there were deep circles beneath them; even his brilliant colouring had faded into a lifeless pallor. To one whose life had been so far removed from tragedy as Morgan's, the blow brought a lessening of all energies. The full realization that he had killed a man came to him with such a shock that he shrank from it like a child, cowed and irremediably injured.