about eleven o'clock at night
I was , in the meantime , and while these love matters were going on , engaged in the pursuits of my profession . I knew nothing of them , but wished them happy , and thought all was right . I was sitting , after a day 's labour , in my study . It was about eleven o'clock at night . I was startled by the artist 's old housekeeper , who burst in upon me in great terror . Her eyes were absolutely starting from their sockets ; and she stood before me with her mouth open , but without being able , for a time , to utter a syllable . `` What is the matter ? ''