twelve
o'clock
She thought for a moment , `` God does not absolutely and for ever leave his servants . '' Some thought had struck her . She put on her bonnet and cloak deliberately , even looking into the glass to see if she was tidy enough for where she intended going , and for whom she intended to see . And now this quiet woman is on her way down Broughton Street at twelve o'clock of a cold winter night , which , like her own mind , had only that calmness which results from the exhaustion of sudden biting gusts from the north , and therefore right in her face . She drew her cloak round her . She had a long way to go , but her son was in danger of the gallows ; and thoughtless , and as it now seemed , wicked as he was , he was yet her _ son _ . The very word is a volume of heart language -- not the fitful expression of passion , but that quiet eloquence which bedews the eye and brings deep sighs with holy recollections of the child-time , and germinating hopes of future happiness up to the period when he would hang over her departing spirit .