midnight
There was a strange expression in his own eyes . `` Curse you for a cold-hearted priest , '' thought the young steward , with bitterness . Then he wheeled his horse sharply round , and , without any other word , rode off towards his home in the glistening white light , to stable his weary horse , and to saddle another to ride into the larger village of Sant ' Arturo . It was past midnight ; he could do no good ; he could see no one ; but it was a relief to him to be in movement ; he felt that it would choke him to sit and sup and sleep and smoke as usual in his quiet house among the magnolias and the myrtles , whilst the love of his life lay alone in her misery . All gladness which would at any natural death of Tasso Tassilo 's have filled his soul was quenched in the darkness of horror in which her fate was snatched from him and plunged into the mystery and the blackness of imputed crime . He never actually suspected her for a moment ; but he knew that others would no doubt do more than suspect . `` Perhaps the brute killed himself , '' he thought , `` that the blame of the crime might lie on her and part her from me . ''