midnight
But , '' said Joe , `` they would giv ' it me ; and one gent , he follered me right up the passage , he did , and sez , ` Ere , you small boy , ' he sez , and he give me a whole ` arf-crown . Whatever for , I do n't know . '' But I knew that must have been Dr. Loring , a celebrated physician , and my husband 's dearest friend . We had told him about Joe 's midnight self-teaching , and he had been much interested in the story . You little thought , Joe , the hand that patted your curly head so kindly that night would one day hold your small wrist , and count its feeble life-pulse beating slowly and yet more slowly , while we , who loved you , should watch the clever , handsome face , trying in vain to read there the blessed word `` Hope . '' And now I must confess to those -- for surely there will be a few -- who have felt a little interest , so far , in the fortunes of J. Cole , that a period in my story has arrived when I would fain lay down my pen , and not awaken the sleeping past , to recall the sad trouble that befell him . I am almost an old woman now , and all this happened many years ago , when my hair was golden instead of silver .