If Any Man Sin

by H. A. Cody

"For you!" Nance exclaimed in astonishment. "Why, what have I done for you?"

"You gave me new life, that is what you have done. Before I found you no one loved me, and I had no one to care for. I was a lonely man, without any definite purpose in life. But since you came I have had you to live for. You are all I have now, Nance."

"I have often wondered," Nance replied, "why you ever brought me here. I never liked to ask you, but I have thought about it very much. You know so many things about the world outside, and all that it means, that it must have been hard to bury yourself away in such a wilderness place as this."

As Martin made no immediate reply Nance at first thought that she had offended him. Seeing the expression of pain which passed over his face, she rose quickly to her feet, and threw her arms about his neck.

"Forgive me, daddy," she pleaded. "I'm so sorry that I asked that question. I had no right to do so. You did it for the best, I am sure."

"Sit down, Nance," and Martin motioned her to the stool. "You certainly have the right to ask why I brought you here and kept you shut up in such a place as this for so many years. But how can I answer you? Something caused me to come here, but just what it was I cannot explain. I made a failure in life years ago, and so fled into the wilderness to be far off from people who knew what I had done. To them I am a bad man. But, oh, Nance, I would give anything to be what I once was! How happy I should be to be able to go out into the world and not shrink back from the looks of men and women. But there, I did not mean to tell you this. You will wonder what it all means."

"Don't, don't talk that way, daddy," and Nance placed her hand in his as she spoke. "You are not a bad man. I don't care what people say or think. They do not know you as I do. If they knew what you have done for me all of these years they would think differently. Anyway, no matter what people say, it won't make any difference in my love to you. Though you are not my real father, I love you just the same."

"I know it, Nance; I know it," Martin huskily replied, while his hand closed tight upon hers.

"And, daddy," Nance returned, "if you don't want to go away from here, I shall not mind. So don't let us worry any more about it."

"No, Nance; that must not be. It will be for the best if we go away. I have been thinking it all over very carefully of late. We shall go out to the trading post next summer, in time to go south on the first steamer as it returns from its northern trip. I can get a number of Indians to pack the gold over the mountain. As to the future, we can talk about that again. Come now, let us have some music together, and banish all sad thoughts."