The Rector's black marble clock struck one.
David shivered. One hour had already passed of the day on which he had promised to give Diana his decision; yet, after hours of deliberation, he was no nearer arriving at any definite conclusion.
"My God," he prayed, "give me light. Ah, give me a clear unmistakable revelation of Thy will!"
The hours from one to two, and from two to three, are apt to hold especial terrors for troubled souls—for lonely watchers, keeping vigil. This is the time of earth's completest silence, and the sense of the nearness of the spirit-world seems able to make itself more intimately felt.
The cheerful cock has not yet bestirred himself to crow; the dawn has made no rift in the heavy blackness of the sky.
The Prince of Darkness invades the world, unhindered. The Hosts of Light stand by, with folded wings; their glittering swords close sheathed. "This is your hour, and the hour of darkness." Murder, robbery, lust, and every form of sin, lift their heads, unafraid.
Christian souls, waking, shudder in nameless fear; then whisper:
"Keep me, O keep me, King of Kings,
Beneath Thine Own almighty wings!"