midnight
She saw her ideals dimly enough at best , and she would burst every cord of affection and convention rather than allow them to be submerged in the grey , surrounding murk of materialism . Perhaps it was custom and the subtle pullings of association that drew her feet down the path across the bench to the edge of the stream that gurgled gently in the still night . She stood on the gravel by the water 's edge , packed firm by the wagon-wheels of twenty-five years , and watched her image as it swayed gently in the smoothly running current . There was no moon , but the stars shone down in their midnight brilliance , and the water lay white and glistening against the black vagueness of the bushy banks . She stooped and let it fondle her fingers . It was warm and smooth ... But it was shallow at the ford ... Farther up it was quite deep ... The stars blinked a strange challenge from the sky , as though to say , `` Here is the tree of knowledge , if you dare to drink thereof . '' At length she turned her back on the stream and retraced her steps up the path .