the hour of nine
She bade me good night and left the room . Doubtless it was the outraged , departed spirit of that golden time which was haunting the old squire . A Bible lay on the table near me and I sat reading it for an hour or so . A tall clock in a corner solemnly tolled the hour of nine . In came the tall woman and asked in the brogue of the Irish : `` Would ye like to go to bed ? '' `` Yes , I am tired . '' She took a candle and led me up a broad oaken stairway and into a room of the most generous proportions .