eight o'clock
Wisha , your reverence might have a copper about you to help a poor lone widow ? '' I must say this subtle flattery did not raise my drooped spirits . I went home , sat down by my little table , and gave myself up to gloomy reflections . It must have been eight o'clock , or more , for the twilight had come down , and my books and little pictures were looking misty , when a rat-tat-tat rang at the door . I did n't hear the car , for the road was muddy , I suppose ; but I straightened myself up in my arm-chair , and drew my breviary towards me . I had read my Matins and Lauds for the following day , before dinner ; I always do , to keep up the old tradition amongst the Irish priests ; but I read somewhere that it is always a good thing to edify people who come to see you . And I did n't want any one to suspect that I had been for a few minutes asleep .