rs and their bosses sauntered at its
doors, or hung over the railing of the wall, as they talked and smoked.

The glory of the Bridge House suddenly declined. That was because
Finley, the owner, a rich man, came to hate the place--his brother's
blood stained the barroom floor. He would have destroyed the house but
that John Rupert, the beggared gentleman came to him, and wished to rent
it for a dwelling.

Mr. Rupert was old, and had been miserably poor for many years, but he
had a breeding and a manner superior to anyone at Bamber's Boom. He was
too old for a labourer, he had no art or craftsmanship; his little
money was gone in foolish speculations, and he was dependent on his
granddaughter's slight earnings from music teaching and needlework.
But he rented an acre of ground from Finley, and grew vegetables; he
gathered driftwood from the river for his winter fire, and made up the
accounts of the storekeeper occasionally. Yet it was merely keeping off
starvation. He was not popular. He had no tongue for the meaningless
village talk. People held him in a kind of awe, and yet they felt a mean
satisfaction when they saw him shouldering driftwood, and piling it on
the shore to be dragged away--the last resort of the poor, for which
they blush.

When Mr. Rupert asked for the House, Finley knew the chances were he
would not get the rental; yet, because he was sorry for the old man, he
gave it to him at a low rate. He closed up the bar-room, however, and it
was never opened afterwards.

So it was that Mr. Rupert and Judith, his granddaughter, came to live
there. Judith was a blithe, lissome creature, who had never known
comfort or riches: they were taken from her grandfather before she was
born, and her father and mother both died when she was a little child.
But she had been taught by her grandmother, when she lived, and by her
grandfather, and she had felt the graces of refined life. Withal, she
had a singular sympathy for the rude, strong life of the river. She was
glad when they came to live at the Bridge House, and shamed too: glad
because they could live apart from the other villagers; shamed because
it exposed her to the curiosity of those who visited the House, thinking
it was still a tavern. But that was only for a time.

One night Jules Brydon, the young river-boss, camped with his men at
Bamber's Boom. He was of parents Scotch and French, and the amalgamation
of races in him made a striking product. He was coo