midnight
If she had read it all in a book , years before , she would have said , `` A man could n't do less than love one when fortune had enabled her to do so much for him . '' So she had simply approved of his declaration , down by the run , of affection for which she was not yet ready , and she approved of him all the more fondly because he did not passionately and arbitrarily demand or expect that she should feel as he did , in return . `` I did n't , '' she had said to herself a score of times , `` and that was enough for him . '' When later , for his sake , she faced the darkness of midnight , a peril she dared not contemplate , and the cruel misjudgment which would follow her action if discovered , something deeper awoke in her nature -- something kindled into strong , perplexing life when , in his passionate gratitude , he had snatched her in his arms and , as she had said , `` given her his whole heart because he could n't help himself . '' From that moment , on her part there had been no more merely kind , tranquil thoughts about Scoville , but a shy , trembling , blushing self-consciousness even when in solitude his image rose before her . As she sought to regain composure after the last interview with her cousin , and to think of her best course in view of what seemed his dangerous knowledge , a truth , kept back thus far by solemn and absorbing scenes , suddenly became dear to her . The spirit of all-consuming selfishness again manifested by Whately , revealed as never before the gulf of abject misery into which she would have fallen as his wife .