eight o’clock
He had meant to stay at Merton , as we know , for the night . Now , his one thought was to get back to Catherine . The urgency of Mr. Grey 's words was upon him , and love had a miserable pang that it should have needed to be urged . By eight o'clock he was again at Churton . There were no carriages waiting at the little station , but the thought of the walk across the darkening common through the August moonrise , had been a refreshment to him in the heat and crowd of the train . He hurried through the small town , where the streets were full of simmer idlers , and the lamps were twinkling in the still balmy air , along a dusty stretch of road , leaving man and his dwellings , farther and farther to the rear of him , till at last he emerged on a boundless tract of common , and struck to the right into a cart-track leading to Murewell . He was on the top of a high sandy ridge , looking west and north , over a wide evening world of heather , and wood and hill .