.

Full of hope, full of courage, sure of her progress--and aching with
loneliness.

She sat with her head in her hands, and to her ears came suddenly the
sound of a familiar step--a well-known voice--the hands and the lips of
her lover.

"Diantha!" He held her close.

"Oh, Ross! Ross! Darling! Is it true? When did you come? Oh, I'm so
glad! So _glad_ to see you!"

She was so glad that she had to cry a little on his shoulder, which he
seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

"I've good news for you, little girl," he said. "Good news at last!
Listen, dear; don't cry. There's an end in sight. A man has bought out
my shop. The incubus is off--I can _live_ now!"

He held his head up in a fine triumph, and she watched him adoringly.

"Did you--was it profitable?" she asked.

"It's all exchange, and some cash to boot. Just think! You know what
I've wanted so long--a ranch. A big one that would keep us all, and let
me go on with my work. And, dear--I've got it! It's a big fruit ranch,
with its own water--think of that! And a vegetable garden, too, and
small fruit, and everything. And, what's better, it's all in good
running order, with a competent ranchman, and two Chinese who rent the
vegetable part. And there are two houses on it--_two_. One for mother
and the girls, and one for us!"

Diantha's heart stirred suddenly.

"Where is it, dear?" she whispered.

He laughed joyfully. "It's _here!"_ he said. "About eight miles or so
out, up by the mountains; has a little canyon of its own--its own little
stream and reservoir. Oh, my darling! My darling!"

They sat in happy silence in the perfumed night. The strong arms were
around her, the big shoulder to lean on, the dear voice to call her
"little girl."

The year of separation vanished from their thoughts, and the long years
of companionship opened bright and glorious before them.

"I came this afternoon," he said at length, "but I saw another man
coming. He got here first. I thought--"

"Ross! You didn't! And you've left me to go without you all these
hours!"

"He looked so confident when he went away that I was jealous," Ross
admitted, "furiously jealous. And then your mother was here, and then
those cackling girls. I wanted you--alone."

And then he had her, alone, for other quiet, happy moments. She was so
glad of him. Her hold upon his hand, upon his coat, was tight.

"I don't know how I've lived without you," she said softly.

"Nor I," said he. "I haven't lived