midnight
It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh , no ! -- it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe . I knew the sound well . Many a night , just at midnight , when all the world slept , it has welled up from my own bosom , deepening , with its dreadful echo , the terrors that distracted me . I say I knew it well . I knew what the old man felt , and pitied him , although I chuckled at heart . I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise , when he had turned in the bed .