de'il.'

Searching about in the dark, he found the one article unsold by the
landlord, a stool, with but two of its natural three legs. On this
he balanced himself and waited--simply for what Robert would do; for
his faith in Robert was unbounded, and he had no other hope on
earth. But Shargar was not miserable. In that wretched hovel, his
bare feet clasping the clay floor in constant search of a wavering
equilibrium, with pitch darkness around him, and incapable of the
simplest philosophical or religious reflection, he yet found life
good. For it had interest. Nay, more, it had hope. I doubt,
however, whether there is any interest at all without hope.

While he sat there, Robert, thinking him snug in the garret, was
walking quietly home from the shoemaker's; and his first impulse on
entering was to run up and recount the particulars of his interview
with Alexander. Arrived in the dark garret, he called Shargar, as
usual, in a whisper--received no reply--thought he was
asleep--called louder (for he had had a penny from his grandmother
that day for bringing home two pails of water for Betty, and had
just spent it upon a loaf for him)--but no Shargar replied.
Thereupon he went to the bed to lay hold of him and shake him. But
his searching hands found no Shargar. Becoming alarmed, he ran
down-stairs to beg a light from Betty.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Betty's nose as much in the
air as its construction would permit. For a hook-nosed animal, she
certainly was the most harmless and ovine creature in the world, but
this was a case in which feminine modesty was both concerned and
aggrieved. She showed her resentment no further, however, than by