and rain: one of those pretty spots which present themselves on the
road-side in the country, and strike the eye with a pleasing notion of
comfort; especially when, during a summer shower, the cocks and hens of
the little yard are seen by the traveller who takes shelter under it,
huddled up in silence, the white dust quite dry, whilst the heavy shower
patters upon the leaves above, and upon the dark drenched road beside
him.

Under the shade of this sat an interesting girl, aged about seventeen,
named Susan Connor. She was slender, and not above the middle size;
but certainly, in point of form and feature, such as might be called
beautiful--handsome she unquestionably was; but be that as it may, with
this rustic beauty the object of Denis's stolen visit was connected. She
sat knitting under the shade of elder which we have described, a sweet
picture of innocence and candor. Our hero's face, as he approached her,
was certainly a fine study for any one who wished to embody the sad and
the ludicrous. Desperate was the conflict between pedantry and feeling
which he experienced. His manner appeared more pompous and affected than
ever; yet was there blended with the flush of approaching triumph as
a candidate, such woe-begone shades of distress flitting occasionally
across his feature, as rendered his countenance inscrutably enigmatical.

When the usual interchange of preliminary conversation had passed,
Denis took his seat beside her on the grassy bench; and after looking
in several directions, and giving half a dozen hems, he thus accosted
her:--

"Susan, cream of my affections, I may venture to conjecture that the
fact, or _factum_, of my being the subject of _fama clamosa_ today, has
not yet reached your ears?"