the hour of twelve
WHEN THE NIGHT IS DARKEST XLVII . DAWN IS NEAR XLVIII . CONCLUSION Late into the afternoon , Farmer Fleming was occupying a chair in Robert 's lodgings , where he had sat since the hour of twelve , without a movement of his limbs or of his mind , and alone . He showed no sign that he expected the approach of any one . As mute and unremonstrant as a fallen tree , nearly as insensible , his eyes half closed , and his hands lying open , the great figure of the old man kept this attitude as of stiff decay through long sunny hours , and the noise of the London suburb . Although the wedding people were strangely late , it was unnoticed by him .