eleven o'clock
the sweet words of love and courage that passed between him and his wife and daughters ? These things can not be described ; they can only be imagined . So the night passed . It was after eleven o'clock ; the conversation had almost ceased and all were sitting hushed in a growing silence , when Clara spoke again , so suddenly and clearly that they were all startled and awed by it : `` Father ! mother ! where have I been ? I have had such a dream !