nine o'clock
My lady would not consent to undress till nearly three o'clock in the morning , when the last lingering peal of thunder had died away among the distant hills . Until that hour she lay in the handsome silk dress in which she had traveled , huddled together among the bedclothes , only looking up now and then with a scared face to ask if the storm was over . Toward four o'clock her husband , who spent the night in watching by her bedside , saw her drop off into a deep sleep , from which she did not awake for nearly five hours . But she came into the breakfast-room , at half-past nine o'clock , singing a little Scotch melody , her cheeks tinged with as delicate a pink as the pale hue of her muslin morning dress . Like the birds and the flowers , she seemed to recover her beauty and joyousness in the morning sunshine . She tripped lightly out onto the lawn , gathering a last lingering rosebud here and there , and a sprig or two of geranium , and returning through the dewy grass , warbling long cadences for very happiness of heart , and looking as fresh and radiant as the flowers in her hands . The baronet caught her in his strong arms as she came in through the open window .