about three o'clock
My religion too was in some peril , for if , by any mischance things should not go as I expected ; if , as certainly occurred to my mind as one possibility in ten , I had completely mistaken Rumbald , and he had spoken the truth for once -- it was not the King only who would perish , but the Catholic heir also , and then good-bye to all our hopes . Yet , I declare that even this did not affect me so much as the thought that it was the man whom I had learned to love that was in peril -- to love , in spite of his selfishness and his indolence and his sins . It was all but an intolerable thought to me that that melancholy fiery man who had so scolded me -- whom , to tell the truth , I had scolded back -- that this man might , even in imagination , be mixed up with the horror of the firing of guns and the plunging of the wounded horses -- should himself be shot at and murdered , there in the lonely Hertfordshire lane . At about three o'clock I could bear it no more . God knows how many prayers I had said ; for I think I prayed all the time , as even careless men will do at such crises . There was the grim house behind me , the leafless trees overhead , the lane stretching up northwards beyond the gate . All was very silent , except for the barking of a dog now and again .