midnight
She thought of her guardian and his skeptical misanthropy . He had explored every by-path of speculation , and after years of study and investigation had given up in despair , and settled down into a refined pantheism . Could she hope to succeed better ? Was her intellect so vastly superior to those who for thousands of years had puzzled by midnight lamps over these identical questions of origin and destiny ? What was the speculation of all ages , from Thales to Comte , to the dying girl she had just left ? Poor Beulah ! For the first time her courage forsook her , and bitter tears gushed over her white cheeks .