ten o'clock
John was on his knees ; she heard his voice -- a far-off , awful voice -- the voice of the soul and not of the body . So she went back , and with bowed head sat down on the edge of her bed and waited . Very cold was the winter morning , but she feared to make a movement . She knew it was long past the breakfast hour ; she heard footsteps passing , the shouts of the fishers , the cries of the sea-birds ; she believed it to be at least ten o'clock . But she sat breathlessly still . John was wrestling as Jacob wrestled ; a movement , a whisper might delay the victory or the blessing . She almost held her breath as the muttered pleading grew more and more rapid , more and more urgent .