about seven o'clock
But not for long , for looking back towards Purbeck , I could see the faint hint of dawn low on the sea-line behind St. Alban 's Head , and so pressed forward knowing I had a full ten miles to cover yet . Thus I travelled on , and soon came to the first sign of man , namely a flock of lambs being fed with turnips on a summer fallow . The sun was well up now , and flushed all with a rosy glow , showing the sheep and the roots they eat white against the brown earth . Still I saw no shepherd , nor even dog , and about seven o'clock stood safe on Weatherbeech Hill that looks down over Moonfleet . There at my feet lay the Manor woods and the old house , and lower down the white road and the straggling cottages , and farther still the Why Not ? and the glassy Fleet , and beyond that the open sea . I can not say how sad , yet sweet , the sight was : it seemed like the mirage of the desert , of which I had been told -- so beautiful , but never to be reached again by me .