MARY SEAHAM.
CHAPTER I.
Thou hast not rebuked, nor reproached me,
But sadly and silently wept,
And each wound that to try thee I sent thee,
Thou took'st to thy heart to be kept.
C. CAMPBELL.
Six months from the point at which we left our story, a party of gentlemen, who on their way to the Highland Moors, had stopped in Edinburgh for the night, strolled together in the public gardens of the place.
They found little company there besides children and nurse-maids at that time, so that a young lady of quiet, but distinguished appearance, who came towards them and turned down one of the shady walks, with a group of little companions followed by their attendant, more particularly attracted the attention of the strangers.
"What a remarkably pretty, lady-like looking girl, that is; how well she walks," said one.