among the boughs which tells the approach of a summer shower. The light branches of the ash were tossed aside by the wind, and a few heavy drops fell almost one by one. A large black cloud darkened the sky, and a burst of distant thunder rolled upon the air.
"To be caught in the rain will give me my death of cold," exclaimed Charles, almost unconsciously hurrying forward. For a moment he hesitated whether he should not wish the rain to cease; but the remedy was worse than the disease—so on he went. Luckily, a sudden turn in the lane shewed him a place of shelter; he soon reached the stone porch of a small cottage, and paused there, gaining breath and resolution to ask admission. Built in a heavy Gothic style of architecture, the cottage looked as if it had formerly been the lodge of some park. In one of the windows sat a girl: her head was bent on her hand, and her fair hair, simply parted on the forehead, was covered by a square cap, or rather coif. Surely he knew her face! She looked up, and their eyes met; another instant, and the door stood open;—it was Ellen Cameron! Such a smile and such a blush, such a beautiful agitation as that with which he was welcomed! She recognised him at the first glance, as he did her at the second.
"My mother will be so glad to see you!” was her exclamation; and he was shewn into the prettiest little room that ever was crowded with
