The storm continued, and between five and six in the morning was still raging. Rejoicing in the din, the confusion, and the prospect of prolonged darkness it afforded, Mr. Edwards wended his way through its fury towards the gates of the gaol. He entered, and proceeded to the condemned cell. From his coming so early it was supposed that he meant to pray and converse with the prisoner for some hours. In a much shorter time, however, than was expected, the porter saw him, as he supposed, approaching, with a somewhat hasty step, along the passage, to take his departure. It was Alfred: but the disguise was perfect; and the porter had no suspicion. A moment more and he must have passed safely out--when a sudden cry was heard--"Stop the prisoner! Stop the prisoner!" And the turnkeys, running and breathless, appeared in pursuit. CHAPTER XIII. During a night of such awful importance, fear and hope both, as its hours advanced, mounting towards their climax, it will be readily believed that Lady Arden had not attempted to seek repose. Regardless of the searching wind and driving rain which beat against her face and bosom, the blinding flashes of the lightning, and the thunder's deafening roar, she leaned from the open window of her sleeping-apartment, and though the darkness was still impenetrable, continued to gaze with intense anxiety, now in the direction of the town of Arden, and now in that of the ruined castle; while Mrs. Dorothea, Lady Darlingford, and Madeline stood behind her, trembling with the combined effect of fear and cold, and shrinking from each fresh accession of the storm's fury, against which they were less defended by the panoply of a fevered mind. If Lady Arden was at all conscious of the raving of the tempest, it was rather calculated to yield her satisfaction than otherwise, for it was highly favourable to the attempt she knew was even then being made for Alfred's escape. The window at which she now stood, was the same from which, with an almost prophetic melancholy, she had looked on the night of the festival for the coming of age of her sons. "The pitiless pelting of the storm," too, was such as it had been on that night--but here the parallel ceases: changed indeed was all beside! From time to time she inquired the hour--waited--inquired again--again waited--and again inquired. "Go, my dear child, go, at any rate," she said at length, looking anxiously at Madeline, who immediately left the room; but in about a quarter of an hour returned, accompanied by Mr. Cameron. He was dripping with wet--covered with mud--and out of breath. Madeline during her short absence, bad been watching for him at a glass door which opened from a little boudoir into the lawn; she had just admitted him, and led him up stairs by a back way. On his entering the apartment, the door was cautiously closed by Mrs. Dorothea. Lady Arden laid her hand on his arm and looked in his face. "He is safe," he replied, "quite safe for the present."