midnight
At one time death had smilingly pushed ajar the door that opened into eternal peace , and beckoned her bruised soul to follow ; then mockingly barred escape , and left her to renew the battle . From that double window in the second story of the prison , she watched the silver of full moons shining on the spectral white columns that crowned `` Elm Bluff '' , the fire of setting suns that blazed ruby-red as Gubbio wine , along the line of casements that pierced the front facade , a bristling perpetual reminder of the tragedy that cried to heaven for vengeance . She learned exactly where to expect the first glimpse of the slender opal crescent in the primrose west ; followed its waxing brilliance as it sailed out of the green bights of the pine forest , its waning pallor , amid the sparkling splendor of planets that lit the far east . As the constellations trod the mazes of their stately minuet across the distant field of blue , their outlines grew familiar as human countenances ; and from the darkness of her cell she turned to the great golden stars throbbing in midnight skies , peering in through the iron bars like pitying eyes of heavenly guardians . Locked away from human companionship , and grateful for the isolation of her narrow cell , the lonely woman found tender compensation in the kindly embrace of Nature 's arms , drawn closely about her . The procession of the seasons became to her the advent of so many angels , who leaned in at her window and taught her the secret of floral runes ; the mysterious gamut of bird melodies , the shrill and weird dithyrambics of the insect world ; the recitative and andante and scherzo of wind and rain , of hail and sleet , in storm symphonies . The Angel of Spring , with the snow of dogwood , and the faint pink of apple blossoms on her dimpling cheeks ; with violet censers swinging incense before her crocus-sandalled feet , and the bleating of young lambs that nestled in her warm arms .