eight o'clock at night
As yet I had no idea as to what to do ; my brain burned with horror and fury ; and I stood there in the dark , clenching my hands again and again , with my whip in one of them . It was enough for me that my Cousin Dolly was in that den of tigers and serpents that was called the Court , and under the protection of the woman once called Carwell . There was not one thought in my brain but this -- all others were gone , or were but as phantoms -- the King , the Duke , Monmouth , the Queen -- they would be so many wicked ghosts , and no more -- before me -- and I would go through them as through smoke , to tear her out of it . I suppose that some species of sanity returned to me after a while , for I found myself presently pacing up and down the terrace by the river , and considering that this was a strange hour -- eight o'clock at night , to be searching out one of Her Majesty 's ladies ; and , after that , little by little , persons and matters began to take their right proportions on them again . I could not , I perceived , merely demand where Mistress Jermyn lodged , beat down her door and carry her away with me safe to Hare Street . Their Majesties of England still stood for something in Whitehall , and so did reason and commonsense , and Dolly 's own good name . I began to perceive that matters were not so simple .