what he had done, he had surely paid the price over and over again.
“Father,” she cried, impetuously reaching out her arms. “I want you as I used to want you as a child.”
For an instant only did Hugo hesitate. He then stooped and allowed Marion to encircle his neck with her arms, and impress a kiss upon his forehead. His great form trembled and his eyes were misty. In another minute he freed himself, stepped back, and stood erect before his daughter.
“You should not do that,” he told her.
“Do what?”
“Kiss me. Am I not an outcast? Have I not been hounded from place to place? Are not the Police always watching to seize me?”
“But you are my father,” Marion reminded, “and no matter what you have done I can never forget that.”
Hugo was about to reply, but words seemed suddenly to fail him. He stood staring off into the blackness of the forest as if he beheld something there.
“Won’t you come with me?” Marion asked, wondering at his silence. “We can leave this country, go outside, and you can begin life all over again.”
“No, no!” Hugo fiercely replied. Then his manner changed. “You are tired, worn out. Come with me to my little cabin, and when you have rested we will talk about this. I have kept you here too long already.”
“But what about Zell?” Marion asked. “She might come back.”
“Not likely,” was the reply. “Anyway, we can’t help her just now.”
