“Then you are expelled, and I desire that you will quit the college to-morrow morning at the very latest.”
An envelope sealed with the college seal was immediately handed to him by one of the Fellows. It contained the sentence of expulsion.
Shelley dashed back to Hogg’s rooms, flung himself down on the sofa, and trembling with rage repeated “Expelled! . . . Expelled!”
The punishment was terrible. It put a stop to his studies; made it impossible for him to enter any other university; deprived him of the peaceful life he so much enjoyed; and drew down on his head his father’s grotesque and inextinguishable anger.
Hogg was as indignant as his friend, and carried away by a youthful generosity, instantly addressed a note to the Master and Fellows, expressing his grief and astonishment that such treatment could have been meted out to such a man as Shelley. He trusted that the sentence was not final.
The note was dispatched. The Conclave was still sitting. In a moment the porter returned with “the Dean’s compliments to Mr. Hogg and would he go down at once.”
The audience was brief.
“Did you write this?”
It was the letter he had just written and he acknowledged it.
“And this?” putting into Hogg’s hand the pamphlet on Atheism.