“But I am poor myself,” cried I.

“You were,” said he; “and you were liable to be severely punished for it,—­indeed, at the council which was held concerning you, this fact was very nearly consigning you to what I should myself consider a well-deserved chastisement” (for he was getting angry, and so was I); “but the Queen was so inquisitive, and wanted so much to see you, that she petitioned the King and made him give you his pardon, and assign you a pension in consideration of your meritorious complexion.  It is lucky for you that he has not heard what you have been saying now, or he would be sure to cancel it.”

As I heard these words my heart sank within me.  I felt the extreme difficulty of my position, and how wicked I should be in running counter to established usage.  I remained silent for several minutes, and then said that I should be happy to accept the embezzler’s invitation,—­on which my instructor brightened and said I was a sensible fellow.  But I felt very uncomfortable.  When he had left the room, I mused over the conversation which had just taken place between us, but I could make nothing out of it, except that it argued an even greater perversity of mental vision than I had been yet prepared for.  And this made me wretched; for I cannot bear having much to do with people who think differently from myself.  All sorts of wandering thoughts kept coming into my head.  I thought of my master’s hut, and my seat upon the mountain side, where I had first conceived the insane idea of exploring.  What years and years seemed to have passed since I had begun my journey!

I thought of my adventures in the gorge, and on the journey hither, and of Chowbok.  I wondered what Chowbok told them about me when he got back,—­he had done well in going back, Chowbok had.  He was not handsome—­nay, he was hideous; and it would have gone hardly with him.  Twilight drew on, and rain pattered against the windows.  Never yet had I felt so unhappy, except during three days of sea-sickness at the beginning of my voyage from England.  I sat musing and in great melancholy, until Yram made her appearance with light and supper.  She too, poor girl, was miserable; for she had heard that I was to leave them.  She had made up her mind that I was to remain always in the town, even after my imprisonment was over; and I fancy had resolved to marry me though I had never so much as hinted at her doing so.  So what with the distressingly strange conversation with my teacher, my own friendless condition, and Yram’s melancholy, I felt more unhappy than I can describe, and remained so till I got to bed, and sleep sealed my eyelids.