ten o'clock
During Tuesday morning Electra seemed to have recovered her consciousness , but in the afternoon she relapsed into incoherent muttering of `` Cuyp , '' `` Correggio , '' `` Titian 's Bella , '' and `` my best great picture left in Florence . '' Irene was sitting at her bedside , rolling bandages , when the sudden , far-distant , dull boom of cannon , followed by the quick rattling of the window-panes , gave intimation that the long contest was fiercely renewed . A courier had arrived from Malvern Mill with intelligence that here the enemy 's forces were very strongly posted , were making desperate resistance ; and though no doubt of the result was entertained , human nature groaned over the carnage . At ten o'clock , having given a potion , and renewed the folds of wet linen on Electra 's head , Irene stole back to the window , and , turning the shutters , looked down the street . Here and there an anxious group huddled on the corners , with ears strained to catch every sound , and , while she watched , a horseman clattered at a hard gallop over the paving-stones , reined up at the door of the boarding-house , swung himself to the sidewalk , and an instant after the sharp clang of the bell rang startlingly through the still mansion . `` Oh , my God ! it has come at last ! ''