If I were the man who could
purchase the world's respect through a woman's weakness for him, I
should not be here to-night. I am not here to sue your father's
daughter with hopes of forgiveness, promises of reformation.
Reformation, in a man like me, means cowardice or self-interest.
(OLD MORTON, becoming excited, leans slowly out from the shadow of
the pillar) listening intently.) I am here to take, by force if
necessary, a gambler's wife,--the woman who will share my fortunes,
my disgrace, my losses; who is willing to leave her old life of
indulgence, of luxury, of respectability, for mine. You are
frightened, little dove: compose yourself (soothing her tenderly
and sadly); you are frightened at the cruel hawk who has chosen you
for a mate.
Old Morton (aside). God in heaven! This is like HIM! like me!--
like me, before the blessed Lord lifted me into regeneration. If
it should be! (Leans forward anxiously from pillar.)
Oakhurst (aside). Still silent! Poor dove, I can hear her foolish
heart flutter against mine. Another moment decides our fate.
Another moment: John Oakhurst and freedom, or Red Gulch and--she is
moving. (To JOVITA.) I am harsh, little one, and cold. Perhaps I
have had much to make me so. But when (with feeling) I first met
you; when, lifting my eyes to the church-porch, I saw your
beautiful face; when, in sheer recklessness and bravado, I raised
my hat to you; when you--you, Jovita--lifted your brave eyes to
mine, and there, there in the sanctuary, returned my salute,--the
salutation of the gambler, the outcast, the reprobate,--then, then
I swore that you should be mine, if I tore you from the sanctuary.
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