"Poor fellow," he said, almost as sadly as if he had known the
man. "Ah! poor fellow!"

He went next to the window. The night was black, and he could see
nothing from it. The rain still pattered heavily agai nst the
glass. He inferred, from hearing it, that the window was at the
back of the house, remembering that the front was sheltered from
the weather by the court and the buildings over it.

While he was still standing at the window--for even the dreary
rain was a relief, because of the sound it made; a relief, also,
because it moved, and had some faint suggestion, in consequence,
of life and companionship in it--while he was standing at the
window, and looking vacantly into the black darkness outside, he
heard a distant church clock strike ten. Only ten! How was he to
pass the time till the house was astir the next morning?

Under any other circumstances he would have gone down to the
public-house parlor, would have called for his grog, and would
have laughed and talked with the company assembled as familiarly
as if he had known them all his life. But the very thought of
whiling away the time in this manner was now distasteful to him.
The new situation in which he was placed seemed to have altered
him to himself already. Thus far his life had been the common,
trifling, prosaic, surface-life of a prosperous young man, with
no troubles to conquer and no trials to face. He had lost no
relation whom he loved, no friend whom he treasured. Till this
night, what share he had of the immortal inheritance that is
divided among us all had lain dormant within him. Till this