On an afternoon in October, or the beginning of November⁠—a fresh watery afternoon, when the turf and paths were rustling with moist, withered leaves, and the cold blue sky was half hidden by clouds⁠—dark grey streamers, rapidly mounting from the west, and boding abundant rain⁠—I requested my young lady to forego her ramble, because I was certain of showers. She refused; and I unwillingly donned a cloak, and took my umbrella to accompany her on a stroll to the bottom of the park: a formal walk which she generally affected if low-spirited⁠—and that she invariably was when Mr.