Explore "A Monk of Cruta" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
An early darkness had fallen upon the earth. Black clouds had sailed across the young moon, and the evening breeze had changed into a gale. There was no rain as yet, but every prospect of it near at hand. A mass of lurid, yellowish clouds hung low down over the bending woods, and the wind whistled drearily amongst the fir trees. Paul de Vaux wrapped his cloak tightly around him, and, standing on the turf-covered floor of the ruined chapel, peered forward into the darkness, looking for the man whom he had come to meet. Even then he heard his voice before he could distinguish the dim outline of Father Adrian standing by his side.
"So you have come, Paul de Vaux, and in good time! It is well!"