midnight
cried she , shaken with new dreams , `` what would I not give to the man who would strike a blow for our house ? '' Then she recalled what day it was . A year of miracles and changes had sped over her life ; if she desired new miracles , this was the night to ask them . So close on midnight Proud Rosalind once more crept up to Rewell Wood ; and on its beechen skirts the white hart came to her . It came now as to a friend , not to a stranger . And she threw her arm over its neck , and they walked together . As they walked it lowered its noble antlers so cunningly that not a twig snapped from the boughs ; and its antlers were as beautiful as the boughs with their branches and twigs , and to each crown it had added not one , but two more crockets , so that now its points were sixteen .