the hour of eight
Ah , what a terrible storm was raging outside ! What a wild night it was ! The snow drifted in great white mountains against the window-panes , and as far as her eyes could reach , the great white snow-drifts greeted her sight . The bronze clock on the mantle struck the hour of eight in loud , sonorous strokes . With a guilty thrill of her heart , she thought of Jessie Bain . Hastily excusing herself , she hurried to her room . Of course the girl would be there -- there was no doubt about that .