about nine
o'clock in the evening
_ ONCE more , suddenly and unlooked for , the lord of Burleigh appeared at the gates of his deserted hall ! and again the old housekeeper and her satellites were thrown into dismay and consternation . Amidst blank and welcomeless faces , Maltravers passed into his study : and as soon as the logs burned and the bustle was over , and he was left alone , he took up the light and passed into the adjoining library . It was then about nine o'clock in the evening ; the air of the room felt damp and chill , and the light but faintly struggled against the mournful gloom of the dark book-lined walls and sombre tapestry . He placed the candle on the table , and drawing aside the curtain that veiled the portrait , gazed with deep emotion , not unmixed with awe , upon the beautiful face whose eyes seemed fixed upon him with mournful sweetness . There is something mystical about those painted ghosts of ourselves , that survive our very dust ! Who , gazing upon them long and wistfully , does not half fancy that they seem not insensible to his gaze , as if we looked our own life into them , and the eyes that followed us where we moved were animated by a stranger art than the mere trick of the limner 's colours ?