Forrester alone contrived to be less selfish than those about him, and
our hero found his attentions at times rather troublesome. Whatever in
the estimation of the woodman seemed attractive, he studiously thrust
into the youth's plate, pressing him to eat. Chancing, at one of these
periods of polite provision on the part of his friend, to direct his
glance to the opposite extreme of the table, he was struck with the
appearance of a man whose eyes were fixed upon himself with an
expression which he could not comprehend and did not relish. The look of
this man was naturally of a sinister kind, but now his eyes wore a
malignant aspect, which not only aroused the youth's indignant retort
through the same medium, but struck him as indicating a feeling of
hatred to himself of a most singular character. Meeting the look of the
youth, the stranger rose hurriedly and left the table, but still
lingered in the apartment. Ralph was struck with his features, which it
appeared to him he had seen before, but as the person wore around his
cheeks, encompassing his head, a thick handkerchief, it was impossible
for him to decide well upon them. He turned to Forrester, who was busily
intent upon the dissection of a chicken, and in a low tone inquired the
name of the stranger. The woodman looked up and replied--

"Who that?--that's Guy Rivers; though what he's got his head tied up
for, I can't say. I'll ask him;" and with the word, he did so.

In answer to the question, Rivers explained his bandaging by charging
his jaws to have caught cold rather against his will, and to have
swelled somewhat in consequence. While making this reply, Ralph again
caught his glance, still curiously fixed upon himself, with an
expression which again provoked his surprise, and occasioned a gathering
sternness in the look of fiery indignation which he sent back in return.