the hour of
seven
Another flash of light -- the man was surely gathering wild flowers from the rain-drenched grass . `` Surely the man must be mad , '' thought Daisy , with a cold thrill of horror . Her limbs trembled so from sheer fright they refused to bear her slight weight , and with a shudder of terror she sunk down in the wet grass , her eyes fixed as one fascinated on the figure under the tree , watching his every movement , as the lurid lightning illumined the scene at brief intervals . The great bell from the turret of Whitestone Hall pealed the hour of seven , and in the lightning 's flash she saw the man arise from his knees ; in one hand he held a small bunch of flowers , the other was pressed over his heart . Surely there was something strangely familiar in that graceful form ; then he turned his face toward her . In that one instantaneous glance she had recognized him -- it was Rex , her husband -- as he turned hastily from the spot , hurrying rapidly away in the direction of Whitestone Hall . `` Why was Rex there alone on his wedding-night under the magnolia-tree in the terrible storm ? ''