ten o'clock
At North Point he found a bundle of letters , two from his mother , and another from Doctor Johnston , enclosing the note which Katrine had written him after her father 's death . He opened the doctor 's first , and at sight of the enclosure his heart , in the homely old phrase , came to his throat . It was a sad letter , thanking the doctor for all he had tried to do , speaking of her father 's suffering at some length , parsimonious of detail concerning her own life or future plans . It was ten o'clock in the hunting-hutch . The night outside was starless , the lamps flickered irregularly , the guides lay heavily asleep in their blankets on beds of pine boughs in the corner . It was a strange place for the birth of a man 's soul , but as Frank Ravenel read the letter a tenderness , a selfless tenderness , for the sad little writer of it came to him . He had already protected her from himself -- `` somewhat late , '' he confessed , with bitterness , and there had been some effort `` not to do the worst . ''