I was but a boy when these events took place.

All the village remember the story, and tell of Rosamund Gray, and old blind Margaret.
I parted from Allan Clare on that disastrous night, and set out for Edinburgh the next morning, before the facts were commonly known--I heard not of them--and it was four months before I received a letter from Allan.
"His heart," he told me, "was gone from him--for his sister had died of a frenzy fever!"-- not a word of Rosamund in the letter--I was left to collect her story from sources which may one day be explained.
I soon after quitted Scotland, on the death of my father, and returned to my native village.

Allan had left the place, and I could gain no information, whether he were dead or living.
I passed the _cottage_.

I did not dare to look that way, or to inquire _who_ lived there.

A little dog, that had been Rosamund's, was yelping in my path.