To the hour of its coming
he had been of shrewd and humourous disposition. He had married late in
life, and his wife had died, leaving him one child--a girl. She grew to
womanhood, bringing him daily joy. She was beloved in the settlement;
and there was no one at Bamber's Boom, in the valley of the Madawaska,
but was startled and sorry when it turned out that Dugard, the
river-boss, was married. He floated away down the river, with his rafts
and drives of logs, leaving the girl sick and shamed. They knew she was
sick at heart, because she grew pale and silent; they did not know for
some months how shamed she was. Then it was that Mrs. Lauder, the sister
of the Roman Catholic missionary, Father Halen, being a woman of notable
character and kindness, visited her and begged her to tell all.

Though the girl--Nora--was a Protestant, Mrs. Lauder did this: but it
brought sore grief to her. At first she could hardly bear to look at
the girl's face, it was so hopeless, so numb to the world: it had the
indifference of despair. Rumour now became hateful fact. When the old
man was told, he gave one great cry, then sat down, his hands pressed
hard between his knees, his body trembling, his eyes staring before him.

It was Father Halen who told him. He did it as man to man, and not as
a priest, having travelled fifty miles for the purpose. "George Magor,"
said he, "it's bad, I know, but bear it--with the help of God. And be
kind to the girl."

The old man answered nothing. "My friend," the priest continued, "I hope
you'll forgive me for telling you. I thought 'twould be better from me,
than to have it thrown at you in the settlement. We've been friends
one way and another, and my heart aches for you, and my prayers go with
you."

The old man raised his sunken eyes, all their keen humour gone, and
spoke as though each word were dug from his heart. "Say no more, Father
Halen." Then he reached out, caught the priest's hand in his gnarled
fingers, and wrung it.

The father never spoke a harsh word to the girl. Otherwise he seemed to
harden into stone. When the Protestant missionary came, he would not see
him. The child was born before the river-drivers came along again the
next year with their rafts and logs. There was a feeling abroad that it
would be ill for Dugard if he chanced to camp at Bamber's Boom. The
look of the old man's face was ominous, and he was known to have an iron
will.

Dugard was a handsome man, half French, h