nearly ten o'clock
The conviction of the hopelessness of his plight was taking a strong hold upon him , and he was growing hungry . He stamped wearily round the top of the tower to warm his chilling body , pondering a hundred futile plans of escape , breaking off to consign to perdition the deceptive angel child , and meditating many different revenges . At the end of an hour he went down the ladder , and flung himself on the pile of heather in a paroxysm of despair . Till nearly ten o'clock he went now and again to the top of the tower , and shouted . He was beginning to grow very hungry . At ten o'clock he buried himself in the heather , and slept for an hour . He awoke cold and stiff , and his sensitive stomach , used to the tenderest indulgence , was clamouring angrily .