Read "The Postmaster of Market Deignton" by E. Phillips Oppenheim online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Once more I stand on the borders of the grove and watch her cross the meadow towards me. Before, I have seen her in daylight and sunshine; now, the gathering dusk is deepened by the dark, low-flying clouds driven across the sky by a wild west wind. Above my head the tree-tops bend, and the leaves come down in showers. The noise of the wind and the creaking of the pine-boughs fill the wood, and I have listened to them during my swift walk here with a certain exultation and uplifting of spirit. This is no time for soft breezes and gentle sunshine. To-night, though I carry my life in my hand, I am going to fight my way out of this dark miasma of mystery. I am weary of scheming, and wondering, and plotting. I know now where to strike, and no power on earth shall hold me back another hour. If Katherine bid me wait, I will point to my wounded arm. There is more danger in delay than in prompt and decisive action.
Nearer and nearer she comes, and faster and faster beats my heart. Her eyes are downcast, and it is the sound of my voice which first tells her of my presence.