evening, about seven o'clock
she murmured . `` It is too dreadful , and I will not harbor it for a moment . He is good and noble -- his whole life has been grand and above reproach , and I love him with all my heart . '' That evening , about seven o'clock , Mona Montague went down to the elegant drawing-room of her uncle 's residence , exquisitely clad for the opera . Her dress was a fine black lace , of a delicate and beautiful pattern , made over old gold silk , with the corsage cut low and sleeveless , thus leaving her neck and arms to gleam like alabaster through the meshes of delicate lace . The heavy edging at the throat was just caught together with a shell of Etruscan gold , studded with diamonds . Costly solitaires gleamed in her ears , while her dainty wrists were encircled with Mr. Dinsmore 's gift of the morning .