midnight
Her correspondence was one of the sweetest trials of her existence . She took weeks of silent reflection between her busy spells to plan out what she would write before she was satisfied to take up her pen , and then her trouble began in earnest . This night it was next to impossible to compose her thoughts , as young John Keene 's affairs had been thrust before her with startling vividness . The midnight hour passed , and still she sat by her little table , with pen lying flat on the paper and a great daub spreading outward from its point . Her head dropped upon her arm , and she was dreaming of Corney . The disturbance of the party breaking up in the adjoining room made her eyes open , and she listened intently , for she had a premonition that she had not seen the last of them . The men were talking in low tones , but with evident suppressed passion .