the hour of
twelve
It chanced that the light burned late , on this evening , in Mrs. Arnot 's parlor . The lady 's indisposition had confined her to her room and couch during the greater part of the day ; but as the sun declined , the distress in her head had gradually ceased , and she had found her airy drawing-room a welcome change from the apartment heavy with the odor of anaesthetics . Two students from the university had aided in beguiling the early part of the evening , and then Laura had commenced reading aloud an interesting tale , which had suspended the consciousness of time . But as the marble clock on the mantel chimed out the hour of twelve , Mrs. Arnot rose hastily from the sofa , exclaiming : `` What am I thinking of , to keep you up so late ! If your mother knew that you were out of your bed she would hesitate to trust you with me again . '' `` One more chapter , dear auntie , please ? '' `` Yes , dear , several more -- to-morrow ; but to bed now , _ instanter _ .