"A partnership! Ah, no, not a--and, yet--yes, a partnership. A partnership of life, and love, and happiness!" The man moved close, and the black eyes seemed, in the intensity of their gaze to devour her very soul. "There I have said it--the thing I have been wanting to say, yet have feared to say." Patty's lips moved, as if to speak, but the man forestalled the words with a gesture. "Before you answer, let me tell you how, since you first came into the hills, I have lived in the shadow of a mighty fear--I, who have lived my life among men, and have never known the meaning of fear, have been harassed by a multitude of fears. From the moment of our first meeting I have loved you. And, by all the saints, I swear you are the only woman I have ever loved! And, yet, I feared to tell you of that love. Twice the words have trembled on my tongue, and remained unspoken, because I feared that you might spurn me. Then in my heart rose another fear, and I cursed myself for a craven. I feared that chance might favor you in locating your father's strike, and then people would say, 'he loves her for her wealth.' I even thought that you, yourself, might doubt--might ask yourself why he waited until I became rich before he told me of his love? But, believe me, my dear lady, for your wealth, I care not the snap of my fingers--so!" He snapped his fingers loudly and continued: "But say the word, and we will go far from the hill country, and leave your father's secret to the guardianship of his beloved mountains. For I am rich. I own mines, mines, mines! What is one mine more or less to me?" Patty Sinclair felt herself drifting under the spell of his compelling ardor. "Why not?" she asked herself. "Why not marry this man and give up the hopeless struggle?" She thought of her depleted bank account. At best, she could not hope to hold out much longer. Bethune had taken her hand as he talked, and she had not withdrawn it from his palm. Swiftly he bent his head and pressed the brown hand passionately to his lips. She felt his grip tighten as the burning kisses covered her hand--her wrist. She drew the hand away. "But, I do not want to leave the hill country," she said, quite calmly. "I shall never leave it until I have vindicated my father's course in the eyes of the people back home--the men who scoffed at him, and called him a ne'er-do-well, and a dreamer--who refused to back his judgment with their miserable dollars--who killed him with their cruelty, and their doubt!"