d himself for a meeting with him,
as an occasion which might prove fatal to either. These threats, not
sparingly bandied by those who felt little inclination to do battle on
their own account, had become so frequent, that many looked for Owen's
reappearance as for an event of some moment.

Old Larry often heard these reports, and well knowing Owen's ardent
disposition and passionate temper, and how easily he became the tool of
others, when any deed of more than ordinary hazard was presented to him,
grieved deeply over the consequences such promptings might lead to; and
thus it was, that he received him with that outburst of sorrow for which
Owen was little prepared.

If Owen was shocked as he listened first to the tale of anarchy
and bloodshed the old man revealed, a savage pleasure came over him
afterwards, to think, what terror these midnight maraudings were making
in the hearts of those who lived in great houses, and had wealth and
influence. His own wrongs rankled too deeply in his breast to make him
an impartial hearer; and already, many of his sympathies were with the
insurgents.

It was almost day-break ere he could close his eyes; for although
tired and worn out, the exciting themes he was revolving banished every
thought of sleep, and made him restless and fretful. His last words to
Larry, as he lay down to rest, were a desire that he might remain for
a day or two concealed in his cabin, and that none of the neighbours
should learn anything of his arrival. The truth was, he had not courage
to face his former friends, nor could he bear to meet the Joyces: what
step he purposed to take in the mean while, and how to fashion his
future course, it is hard to say: for the present, he only asked time.

The whole of the following day he remained within the little hut; and
when night came, at last ventured forth to breathe the fresh air and
move his cramped limbs. His first object, then, was to go over to
Joyce's house, with no intention of visiting its inmates--far from it.
The poor fellow had conceived a shrinking horror of the avowal he should
be compelled to make of his own failure, and did not dare to expose
himself to such a test.

The night was dark and starless: that heavy, clouded darkness which
follows a day of rain in our western climate, and makes the atmosphere
seem loaded and weighty. To one less accustomed than was Owen, the
pathway would have been difficult to discover; but he knew it well in
every