nearly one o'clock in the morning
he murmured . `` Who could have expected it ? '' `` Grief is proud , and makes its owner stout . '' -- _ King John _ It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Mrs. Headley , wrapped in her husband 's loose military cloak and forage cap , once more approached the apartment of Ronayne , situated at the inner extremity of the low range of buildings inhabited by herself . This disguise had been assumed , not because she felt ashamed of the errand on which she was bound , but because she did not wish to provoke curiosity or remark , in the event of her encountering , while going or returning , any of the reliefs or patrols , which she knew orders had been given , for the first time that night , to have changed every half hour . In the extreme darkness of the night , the difference of her height could scarcely be distinguished from that of her husband , and it was not likely that any one would address the supposed commanding officer , whom all would assume anxious in regard to the health of his subordinate , and on his way to ascertain the extent of his malady . The lights were burning dimly in the apartment .