Her face was raised to his; his lips sought hers, soft and warm. He kissed her again and again. He had no words. His whole soul was crying out for her. She was his, and he was holding her in his arms. Cost what it might afterward she was his for this one delirious moment.
But the moment passed all too swiftly. Reason returned to him, and his arms dropped from about her as he realized the enormity of his offence.
“Child—little Rosie,” he cried brokenly, “I’m crazy! What—what have I done?”
But Rosebud did not go from him as he had expected she would. She did not stir. Her face was hidden from him, and he could not see the anger he expected to read there. She answered him. And her answer was meek—very, very humble.
“You’ve let go of me,” she said in a low voice. “And—and I was so comfortable—so—so—happy!” 374
“Happy?” reëchoed Seth.
She was in his arms again. Night had fallen and all was still. No words were spoken between them for many minutes. Those rapturous moments were theirs alone, none could see, none could know. At length it was Rosebud who looked up from the pillow of his breast. Her lovely eyes were shining even in the darkness.
“Seth—dear—you will help me? You will be my—partner in the ranch?”
And the man’s answer came with a ring of deep happiness in his voice.
“Yes, Rosie, gal—if you’ll make it partners for—life.”