midnight
She was gone . In a minute or so I heard the trampling of a horse : and then , with a scurry of hoofs , Joan was off on the King 's errand , and riding into the darkness . Little rest had I that night ; but lay awake on my bracken bed and watched the burning peat-turves turn to grey , and drop , flake by flake , till only a glowing point remained . The door rattled now and then on the hinge : out on the moor the light winds kept a noise persistent as town dogs at midnight : and all the while my wound was stabbing , and the bracken pricking me till I groaned aloud . As day began to break , the old man picked himself up , yawned and lounged out , returning after a time with fresh turves for the hearth . He noticed me no more than a stone , but when the fire was restack 'd , drew up his chair to the warmth , and breakfasted on oat cake and a liberal deal of liquor . Observing him , the black cat uncoil 'd , stretch 'd himself , and climbing to his master 's knee , sat there purring , and the best of friends .