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."