Sargent winced at her words, thinking of a time, years gone by, when Judge Houston had told him that success seen by the world, and felt by the man, were widely separated. "Yes, even my old friend calls it that—and yet," he leaned forward, letting his face sink into his hands, "it is not what I want. I care not one jot for all the politics in the world. What I love best is the work here in a restricted field where I am so close to those I help. Can't you see it as I do, Natalia? I feel that every man whose life I save and start on a new course of living in which he realizes his sin, and through repentance gains the true light—can't you see that such work is greater than all the arguments of government, the discussions of tariff, the settling of bank questions, all the impersonal work that goes to make up the life of a public man?"
Natalia had turned towards him as he talked on, watching the glow of enthusiasm in his eyes, and gradually feeling the force of his magnetism sweep over her. Unconsciously her lips parted in her intentness, while she listened spellbound to the controlling influences of his life.
"You make me feel that religion and law are the same," she said, when he paused for a moment's rest.
"They are the same. All our laws have their foundation in the word of God. No law without that basis is worthy of consideration. My first case taught me that, when I convicted Jacob Phelps; and ever since, when I see a man condemned to death, I feel all the suffering I endured the day he was sent to jail. I always feel an irresistible desire to rise up and cry out to leave vengeance to God. And now," his voice deepened vibrantly, "when a man comes to me and asks me to defend him for some crime, I feel a wonderful inspiration all through the work. The greater the crime the greater seems my inspiration, for out of the depths of the deed, I see the man's awakening, his regeneration, his approach towards God for it is only through suffering that we attain the heights."
He stopped abruptly, carried further than he had realized, by his enthusiasm. When he turned to Natalia, he found her hand on his arm, her eyes glowing into his.
"Do you believe that? Are you sure? It only came to me to-day, that we reached the heights through suffering." Her voice trembled as the words rushed forth. "I had always thought before that suffering ruined everything; that life should be made up entirely of joy and sunshine and happiness—that suffering would rob it of its beauty. But in my love," she ended sadly, "I had hoped to escape it. I had wanted that perfect—always."
"Perhaps this suffering has come to you, Natalia, to show you how deep your love for Morgan was—how much he meant to you. Perhaps it came to show you that—" Suddenly he stopped and turned away from her—changing his words with a violent shifting of thought. "Love is the only unselfish thing in the world," he continued, calm once more. "Everything else is but a gratification of self, some suffering undergone for an already estimated compensation. Even when we lead good lives, refrain from sinning, form for ourselves strict codes of honour—it is not because we wish to do all those things; it is the eternal benefit which we believe will be the outcome of such a course. The very motive of the world is selfishness, and that there should be in it such a wonderful thing as love, is incomprehensible; for in love the ego is lost; we feel only a desire to make the object of our love happy, to grant every wish, to anticipate every desire; and in the accomplishment of this, every part of selfishness is forgotten. We sink our being into that other one. It is the most beautiful thing God has given us, and it is the greatest sin of all; for in it we forget our duty to our Creator—we go directly against his great command."
Natalia searched his face as she listened. When he had stopped and turned towards her, his eyes bent upon her in the great love he had just spoken, the blood rushed to her face, mounting higher and higher, until it pounded in her temples. Still she could not turn from him. The love in his eyes held her painfully. Words rushed to her lips. She strove to hold them back. Why should she ask it of him? She knew now from his own lips. He had told her everything. Again the words cried out to her for utterance. Her will was as nothing, and she listened to her own voice when she finally spoke, as if it came from a great distance.
"That is what love means to you?"
He bowed his head silently.