ROBERT. (bewildered) Perhaps—you can come too.
RUTH. Oh, Rob, don’t be so foolish. You know I can’t. Who’d take care of ma? Don’t you see I couldn’t go—on her account? (She clings to him imploringly) Please don’t go—not now. Tell them you’ve decided not to. They won’t mind. I know your mother and father’ll be glad. They’ll all be. They don’t want you to go so far away from them. Please, Rob! We’ll be so happy here together where it’s natural and we know things. Please tell me you won’t go!
ROBERT. (face to face with a definite, final decision, betrays the conflict going on within him) But—Ruth—I—Uncle Dick——
RUTH. He won’t mind when he knows it’s for your happiness to stay. How could he? (As ROBERT remains silent she bursts into sobs again) Oh, Rob! And you said—you loved me!
ROBERT. (conquered by this appeal—an irrevocable decision in his voice) I won’t go, Ruth. I promise you. There! Don’t cry! (He presses her to him, stroking her hair tenderly. After a pause he speaks with happy hopefulness) Perhaps after all Andy was right—righter than he knew—when he said I could find all the things I was seeking for here, at home on the farm. I think love must have been the secret—the secret that called to me from over the world’s rim—the secret beyond every horizon; and when I did not come, it came to me. (He clasps RUTH to him fiercely) Oh, Ruth, our love is sweeter than any distant dream! (He kisses her passionately and steps to the ground, lifting RUTH in his arms and carrying her to the road where he puts her down).
RUTH. (with a happy laugh) My, but you’re strong!
ROBERT. Come! We’ll go and tell them at once.
RUTH. (dismayed) Oh, no, don’t, Rob, not ’til after I’ve gone. There’d be bound to be such a scene with them all together.
ROBERT. (kissing her—gayly) As you like—Little Miss Common Sense!
RUTH. Let’s go, then. (She takes his hand, and they start to go off left. ROBERT suddenly stops and turns as though for a last look at the hills and the dying sunset flush).