"On the contrary, you understand me thoroughly, and it would be better to explain your thoughts to me frankly than try to deceive me for a purpose I cannot divine. Alas!" she continued, with a sigh, "Am I not your daughter, and must undergo the consequences of the life you have chosen?"
The squatter frowned.
"I believe that your words contain a reproach," he replied. "Life is scarce opening for you; then how do you dare to judge the actions of a man?"
"I judge nothing, father. As you say, life is scarce opening for me; still, however short my existence may have been, it has been one long suffering."
"That is true, poor girl," the squatter said, gently; "pardon me, I should be so glad to see you happy. Alas! Heaven has not blessed my efforts, though all I have done has been for your sake."
"Do not say that, father," she quickly exclaimed; "do not thus make me morally your accomplice, or render me responsible for your crimes, which I execrate, else you would impel me to desire death."
"Ellen, Ellen! you misunderstood what I said to you; I never had the intention," he said, much embarrassed.
"No more of this," she went on; "we are going, you said, I think, father? Our retreat is discovered, we must fly; that is what you wish to tell me?"
"Yes," he said, "it is that, though I cannot imagine how you have learned it."
"No matter, father. And in what direction shall we proceed?"