"Peter Drew never hinted at that to me!" she cried. "I—I suppose you'd have nothing but the Old Ivison Place if you answered No. Oh, my romantic Old Peter Drew! God rest his soul! I'm so glad."
"Glad, eh?" He smiled whimsically at her, and she quickly interpreted his thoughts.
"Oh, but, Oliver—you don't understand! It's not that you're wealthy, after all—but now you can give Damon Tamroy just what the cement company would have paid him for Lime Rock!"
"Lime Rock shall be your wedding gift," he laughed.
"Oh, Oliver! And—and when we're—married, you won't take me away from the Poison Oak Country, will you, dear! I'll go anywhere you say—but these hills, and the river, and Lime Rock, and Old Dad Sloan, and—my Hummingbird—and the perfume of the manzanita blossoms in spring—and—oh, I love my country next to you, dear heart! And in my dreams I loved you even before you came riding to me in the silver-mounted saddle of Bolivio, like a knight out of the past. This is my country—and if we must go, I'll pine for it—and maybe die like the Indian bride. I want to stay here, Oliver dear—with you—down on the dear Old Ivison Place!"
Oliver tenderly kissed his Star of Destiny. "I have no other plans," he whispered into her ear. "My place is there.... I am the Watchman of the Dead!"