Their eyes met, volumes of tenderness sweeping to and fro between them. A great light had taken possession of her face. He felt her lean against him confidingly, and he put his arm around her and drew her head to his shoulder, and then, with a boldness he would till now have ascribed only to a god, he put his hand under her warm face, turned it upward and kissed her on the lips. She nestled closer to him and shut her eyes, remaining still and silent. He felt her warmth striking into his body.
For several minutes they sat thus, and then she opened her eyes and smiled.
"Oh, Alfred, I'm so happy!" she said, softly.
"Well, maybe I ain't," he said, huskily, and then he kissed her again.
"I'm so glad about the farm," she said. "I can come to you now freer. I couldn't bear the idea of being in debt to the man I was going to marry. I've been independent so long that—that it actually hurt me. Are you plumb sure you can sell it, Alfred—absolutely sure?"
"Absolutely," he answered. "The only thing that's bothering me is that it's worth more."
"Never mind about that," she cried. "But tell me who is to take it, Alfred?"
Their eyes met again steadily, a warm, confident, fearless smile lighted up his face. He put his arm about her again, drew her close to him, and held her cheek in his hand.
"There ain't but one man under God's eye that's got a right to own the land you toiled on like you did," he said, "and that is the man that worships every hair on your head and every drop of blood in your veins. I'm the feller, Dixie."
"Oh, Alfred!" she cried out, but, seeing his eyes burning into hers, she smiled, nestled closer into his arms, and said: "Well, what's the use? My fight's over. I've got you, and nothing on earth can take you from me."