seven o'clock
Just and self-reproving thoughts do not come to us too thickly , even in the purest air , and with the best lessons of heaven and earth ; how should those white-winged delicate messengers make their way to Molly 's poisoned chamber , inhabited by no higher memories than those of a barmaid 's paradise of pink ribbons and gentlemen 's jokes ? She had set out at an early hour , but had lingered on the road , inclined by her indolence to believe that if she waited under a warm shed the snow would cease to fall . She had waited longer than she knew , and now that she found herself belated in the snow-hidden ruggedness of the long lanes , even the animation of a vindictive purpose could not keep her spirit from failing . It was seven o'clock , and by this time she was not very far from Raveloe , but she was not familiar enough with those monotonous lanes to know how near she was to her journey 's end . She needed comfort , and she knew but one comforter -- the familiar demon in her bosom ; but she hesitated a moment , after drawing out the black remnant , before she raised it to her lips . In that moment the mother 's love pleaded for painful consciousness rather than oblivion -- pleaded to be left in aching weariness , rather than to have the encircling arms benumbed so that they could not feel the dear burden . In another moment Molly had flung something away , but it was not the black remnant -- it was an empty phial .