twelve o'clock
As he paused in the dark hallway and listened till he heard the breathing of her who had called him DEAR -- the only one in the world who ever had or ever would call him DEAR -- he had glimpses of that old self which made him question if his self-tutoring on the violin , and the restless ambition which had driven him out of the ways of his ancestors into strange attempts for which he was not prepared by any previous discipline , had brought him happiness or improved his manhood . He was forced to acknowledge that the sleep of those far-distant nights of his busy boyhood was sweeter than the wakefulness of these later days , and that it would have been better for him , and infinitely better for her , if he had remained at the carpenter 's bench and been satisfied with a repetition of his father 's existence . His mother was the only person sharing that small house with him , and once assured that she was asleep , he lighted a lamp in the empty kitchen and sat down . It was just twelve o'clock . This , to anyone accustomed to this peculiar young man 's habits , had nothing unusual in it . He was accustomed to come home late and sit thus by himself for a short time before going up-stairs . But , to one capable of reading his sharp and none too mobile countenance , there was a change in the character of the brooding into which he now sank , which , had that mother been awake to watch him , would have made every turn of his eye and movement of his hand interesting and important .