The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb

. All the village remember the story, and te

nburgh the next morning, before the facts were commonly known-I heard n

of a phrensy fever!"-not a word of Rosamund in the letter-I was le

returned to my native village. Allan had left the place, and

og, that had been Rosamund's, was yelping in my path. I laughed aloud like one mad, whose mind h

ten years since these events took place, and I sometimes think of them as unreal. Allan Clare was a dear friend to me-but