—“Forgive me!” said she, when after two or three hours our endeavours to relieve her had produced some little effect; “I wished to rescue myself from captivity, and had nearly brought the same fate on you, under which I am now groaning. But long suffering is the mother of despair!”— Shortly after she seemed to be nearly delirious; she counted the years which she had already past in this dreary dungeon, and those during which she expected to be detained in it by her tyrant; then she raved about her son, for whose arrival she had so long waited in vain, and she entreated him to hasten to the rescue of his unfortunate mother! Towards midnight she declared, that all pain had entirely left her. With an appearance of gaiety she thanked us for our attentions, and entreated to know the names of those, to whom she was so much indebted. The Countess revealed herself, and the captive in return bestowed upon her a look of interest and compassion. —“Edith of Mayenfield?” repeated the invalid; “oh! I know your story well: you too have suffered much; not so much, its true, as _I_ have suffered, yet enough to know what it is to incur a villain’s hatred.—And your name, gentle lady?” she continued, addressing herself to me. —“I am Urania of Carlsheim and Sargans,” was my answer. —“Urania of Sargans!” shrieked the stranger in a dreadful voice, while she clasped her hands violently together; “Urania? Ethelbert’s beloved Urania? Oh, Fortune, this blow was still wanting to make me completely miserable.—Away from my sight, abandoned woman! away, and leave me to die! But with my last breath I swear to be revenged! Even from my grave will I shriek to Heaven for vengeance! Tremble, detested girl; thou shalt not triumph over my corse unpunished!”— I stood like one petrified near the bed of the sufferer; astonishment and terror almost deprived me of my senses, and nothing but the consciousness that she spoke in the heat of frenzy, could have preserved me from sinking on the earth. —“Noble lady,” I said as soon as I could recover myself, at the same time advancing towards her, and offering to take her hand; “recollect yourself, for pity’s sake! I never saw you till now, and can never have offended you. You surely cannot have heard me aright. I am Urania, the unfortunate Urania Venosta, who rejected by a cruel husband, and undeservedly branded with shame, have been condemned in this Castle to wear eternal fetters, which the flames of last night in vain attempted to break.”— —“Ha!” said the stranger in a gentler tone, “is it so?—Are you then Ethelbert’s _rejected_ wife?—Unfortunate, let me clasp thy hand in mine; we are sisters in calamity.”—