“She was left with people who were paid well—” Barrett broke in, but Lane slapped him across the mouth.
“I know where she was left—left with a nest of skunks, so that you could hide your disgrace in the woods. I’ve watched her all these years. I’ve been waiting for the right time to come. It’s here. Your girl is up there on the top of Jerusalem Mountain in my camp, Barrett. An idiot—a dog on two legs—is guarding her. He’s the only friend she’s got. That’s your daughter. Now, you’re going to take her!”
“Take her?” echoed the cringing millionaire.
“Take her—that’s what I said. It belongs to her. Now give it to her.”
Barrett misinterpreted Lane’s interest. His face lighted with a sudden thought that to him seemed a happy one.
“Look here, Lane,” he said, eagerly, “I didn’t realize but what the girl was getting on all right. I ought to have inquired. But I didn’t dare to. A man in my position has to be careful. Now she needs some one to take care of her. I’ll admit it. I’m sorry it hasn’t been attended to before. Let this matter rest between us two without any stir. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to act as the girl’s guardian. Take her out of these woods. And I’ll put ten thousand more at interest for her.”
“I take that spawn—I take her?” demanded Lane, beating his thin hand on his breast. “I’d as soon pick up a wood adder! Take her—the living reminder of what’s made me what I am? Do you suppose I hate you any worse than I hate her for being what she is?” But he checked himself; a sudden emotion—a strange emotion—mastered him, and he sobbed as he muttered, “Poor little girl!” Then his anger flamed again. “By ——, Barrett, I ought to kill you now, anyway!” He clutched the irons at his belt. But after a moment, with a wrench of his shoulders, he pulled himself out of his frenzy.
“You are going to take that girl to your home. You are going to acknowledge her as your daughter. You are going to give her what belongs to her.” He was grim now, not frenetic.
Barrett’s whole body quivered. His voice was husky with appeal.