Oh! had I but found her still in existence on my arrival at Ravenstein, what might we not have hoped from her friendly aid! what would have been too difficult for three women to accomplish, of whom the one possessed power, the second prudence, and the third resolution! Surely it would have been easy for us to have obtained our freedom; at least, I should not have been so long deprived of the happiness of clasping my faithful Edith to my bosom. Often in our epistolary conversations did we lament over the great loss, which we had sustained in being deprived of this worthy creature! yet the Countess comforted herself with the pleasure of knowing, that I was near her and in a place, where she looked upon me as enjoying both more happiness and more safety, than would have been my lot in the arms of Count Ethelbert.—As for myself, I wept, and prayed for better times. And better times arrived! We had long suspected, that we were not the only unfortunates confined at Ravenstein; and in the truth of this suspicion we now were fully confirmed, though our curiosity was by no means fully satisfied. The Castle, as I before stated, was built on the summit of a lofty rock, whose point appeared designed as a mark for the assaults of all the four winds of heaven. Storms here were frequent and tremendous. In the middle of a tempestuous night, when the whirlwind was raging with its greatest violence, suddenly a remote wing of the Castle burst into flames! the wind set towards our quarter; the sparks flew in at our grated windows; our danger increased with every moment, and every human being seemed to have totally forgotten us. No one had consideration enough to unlock our dungeons; no one showed the slightest disposition to come to our assistance. The general attention was directed towards the eastern wing of the fortress, which was entirely in flames. Our terror is not to be described; yet certainly mine was far inferior to that of Edith, who had not to fear for herself alone. The preservation of a life, which was infinitely dearer to her than her own, occupied all her thoughts; she trembled for the life of her son! She was desperate; she felt, that his destruction was inseparably united with her own, and resolved to dare every thing to preserve him. In the wall of her dungeon was an opening, barely large enough to suffer the child to pass through; she fastened her bed cloaths together; she resolved to let him down by them to the ground, and charged him, as soon as he should have reached it, to release himself and fly, or else to find some hiding place, where he might remain till the danger was past. The risque was dreadful; nothing but despair could have induced her to adopt such a resolution.