one in the morning
I wish that the whole thing were done or had never been begun . What was that ? It was not the wind , for it never makes that sound here , and it was not the rain , since the rain has ceased its surging for a moment ; nor was it the howling of a dog , for I keep none . It was more like the crying of a woman 's voice ; but what woman can be abroad on such a night or at such an hour -- half-past one in the morning ? There it is again -- a dreadful sound ; it makes the blood turn chill , and yet has something familiar about it . It is a woman 's voice calling round the house . There , she is at the window now , and rattling it , and , great heavens !