aw ceased to be the master of his own powers!

The noise of the bird scared the steed. He dashed headlong forward, and
saved the life of his rider!

Yet Ralph Colleton never dreamed of his danger--never once conjectured
how special was his obligations to the interposing hand of Providence!
And so, daily, with the best of us--and the least fortunate. How few of
us ever dream of the narrow escapes we make, at moments when a breath
might kill us, when the pressure of a "bare bodkin" is all that is
necessary to send us to sudden judgment!

And the outlaw was again defeated. He had not, perhaps, been scared. He
had only been surprised--been confounded. In the first cry of the bird,
the first rush of his wings, flapping through the trees, it seemed as if
they had swept across his eyes. He lowered the pistol involuntarily--he
forgot to pull the trigger, and when he recovered himself, steed and
rider had gone beyond his reach.

"Is there a devil," he involuntarily murmured, "that stands between me
and my victim? am I to be baffled always? Is there, indeed, a God?"

He paused in stupor and vexation. He could hear the distant tramp of the
horse, sinking faintly out of hearing.

"That I, who have lived in the woods all my life, should have been
startled by an owl, and at such a moment!"

Cursing the youth's good fortune, not less than his own weakness, the
fierce disappointment of Guy Rivers was such that he fairly gnashed his
teeth with vexation. At first, he thought to dash after his victim, but
his own steed had been fastened near the cottage, several hundred yards
distant, and he was winded too much for a further pursuit that night.

Colleton was, meanwhile, a mile ahead, going forward swimmingly, never
once dreaming of danger. He was thus far safe. So frequently and
completely had his enemy been baffled in the brief progress of a single
night, that he was almost led to believe--for, like most criminals, he
was not without his superstition--that his foe was under some special
guardianship. With ill-concealed anger, and a stern impatience, he
turned.

CHAPTER XXV.

SUBDUED AGONIES.

The entrance of Guy Rivers awakened no emotion among the inmates of the
dwelling; indeed, at the moment, it was almost unperceived. The young
woman happened to be in close attendance upon her parent, for such the
invalid was, and did not observe his approach, while he stood at some
little distance from the couch, surveying the s