midnight
LETTER I. _ Dear and Beloved Constance _ , -- What shall I say to you ? Here I sit , in a strange room , in a strange land , -- and my life lies behind me . It is close upon midnight , and very dark . I can see nothing out of window . The air is hot and heavy , the moths flutter round my candle ; I can not save them all . I am trying to write you a letter -- do you understand ?