Owen on descending removed the ladder, and, hurrying into the pantry, collected such provisions as he could most easily find, and for the disappearance of which he could account the next day to his mother. He carried them to the fugitive, and then again replaced the ladder in the spot from which he had taken it. Having done this, he returned to the sitting-room and threw himself into a chair, resting his head on his hand. He had performed a generous action, but still he questioned himself whether it was a right one. He was attempting to conceal from justice an undoubted malefactor; it was an act then, as now, too common in Ireland, and was sure to meet with the sympathy of the people should it be discovered. Owen possibly might have partaken somewhat in the feeling general among all classes, that it was a right thing to protect those in distress, whatever their crimes against society. A more generous motive had influenced him, and he might have been less inclined to act as he had done should a person indifferent to him, and equally criminal in the sight of the law, have thrown himself upon his mercy. Owen did not know the full wrong O'Harrall had attempted to inflict upon him; even had he been aware of this, it might not have altered his conduct. Some time passed before his mother returned; during it, he did his best to calm his feelings, for he had determined not to tell her what had occurred, hoping that before the next morning O'Harrall would have disappeared. Shortly after she entered the cottage the old lady urged Owen to go to bed. "You look somewhat pale, my son," she said, holding the light to his face, "and late hours do not suit an invalid." "When you set me the example, I will go and turn in," answered Owen, laughing. As he was speaking, loud shouts were heard, and several people came running up and knocking loudly at the door. "Who is it?" asked Mrs Massey. "Shure, it's Pat Magragh. Are ye safe inside, Mrs Massey, honey?" inquired one of the men from the outside. "And where else should I be?" answered the widow, recognising the voice and going to the door. Owen felt very uncomfortable, for he fully expected that inquiries would be made for the fugitive. "Shure, it's no matther at all, thin," exclaimed the man. "As we got to Molly Hogan's, she told us that ye'd just left the cottage, and it might be the big villain we were hunting might have fallen in wid ye and done ye harm; but if ye didn't see him, it's all right, and we must be joining the rest of the bhoys who ran after him." "Whom do you mean?" asked Mrs Massey. "Brian O'Harrall, to be shure," was the answer; "he's broken out of the Ring Tower, nobody knows how--except he got the help of the devil and his imps." "Thank Heaven I did not meet him! it would have well-nigh driven me out of my wits," said the widow, trembling at the thoughts of the supposed danger she had escaped.