been told to read from the book merely to make myself acquainted with
the pains and penalties attendant on such an indiscretion, for to call
it a "detestable crime" seemed to me a very great abuse of language.

"If I have offended," was my answer, delivered with little humility, "I
can only plead my ignorance of the customs of the house."

"No man," he returned, with increased severity, "is so ignorant as not
to know right from wrong. Had the matter come to my knowledge sooner, I
should have said: Depart from us, for your continued presence in the
house offends us; but we have made a compact with you, and, until the
year expires, we must suffer you. For the space of sixty days you must
dwell apart from us, never leaving the room, where each day a task will
be assigned to you, and subsisting on bread and water only. Let us hope
that in this period of solitude and silence you will sufficiently repent
your crime, and rejoin us afterwards with a changed heart; for all
offenses may be forgiven a man, but it is impossible to forgive a lie."

"A lie!" I exclaimed in amazement. "I have told no lie!"

"This," said he, with an access of wrath, "is an aggravation of your
former offense. It is even a worse offense than the first, and must be
dealt with separately--when the sixty days have expired."

"Are you, then, going to condemn me without hearing me speak, or telling
me anything about it? What lie have I told?"

After a pause, during which he closely scrutinized my face, he said,
pointing to the open page before him: "Yesterday, in answer to my
question, you told me that you could read. Last evening you made a