About one o'clock
The moon , which was at the full , was shining out of a cloudless field of sky upon my window . I longed for fresh air , and freedom , and motion ; for a distance between myself and my dear old home -- that home which I was about to plunge into troubled waters . The peacefulness oppressed me . About one o'clock I opened my door as softly as possible , and stole silently downstairs -- but not so silently that my mother 's quick ear did not catch the slight jarring of my door . The night-bell hung in my room , and occasionally I was summoned away at hours like this to visit a patient . She called to me as I crept down the stairs . `` Martin , what is the matter ? ''