Ten o'clock
`` And eighty-four years old ! Oh , why -- why -- could not my old darling Mrs. Picture live only three years more ? ... Only three years ! '' * * * * * Ten o'clock . The time was again at hand for those last arrangements we all know so well , when one watcher is chosen to remain by the sick man 's couch , that others may sleep ; each one to be roused from forgetfulness and peace to the sickening foreknowledge of the hour of release for all , when the life he has it at heart to prolong , if only for a day , shall have become a memory to perish in its turn , as one by one its survivors grow few and fewer and follow in its track . A night comes always when Oblivion becomes a terror , and we dare not sleep , from fear of what our ears may hear on waking . It had come at Strides Cottage for Granny Marrable and Gwen , and even Ruth was conscious of a creeping dread of Death at hand , waiting on the threshold .