noon
A servant-girl had been her mother , and of her father there was nothing known . Madam Conway was one who seldom wept for grief . She had stood calmly at the bedside of her dying husband , had buried her only daughter from her sight , had met with many reverses , and shed for all no tears , but now they fell like rain upon her face , burning , blistering as they fell , but bringing no relief . `` I shall miss her in the morning , '' she cried , `` miss her at noon , miss her in the lonesome nights , miss her everywhere -- oh , Margaret , Margaret , 't is more than I can bear ! Come back to me now , just as you are . I want you here -- here where the pain is hardest , '' and she clasped her arms tightly over her heaving bosom . Then her pride returned again , and with it came thoughts of Arthur Carrollton .