Gertrude had received some plain hints, that the compassionate servants of an inhuman mistress were disposed to shut their eyes to any thing, which she might undertake in favour of the captive. Walter Forest’s mother had accompanied her to Ravenstein; these two kind-hearted women raised the unconscious Adelaide in their arms, and not without much difficulty conveyed her from the dungeon. The guards appointed to watch the door appeared to be buried in sleep, while the fugitives past them; and they reached a narrow portal in the back part of the fortress without meeting any impediment. The good porter turned the lock for them in silence, and (conscious that the veil of darkness would conceal his benevolent action from the queen, who would not easily have been persuaded to pardon it), he assisted Gertrude to place her rescued friend in the litter, which waited for them at a few paces from the Castle-gate. Swiftly did they now descend the mountain-pass, and it was not long, before the Castle of Ravenstein was left far behind them. The good peasants, to whom Gertrude applied for shelter and concealment, granted it without hesitation: but many days elapsed, before they succeeded in snatching Adelaide from the shadows of the grave, towards which her unbroken stupor appeared to be conducting her. On the fourth day, she discovered the first symptoms of consciousness; she started up suddenly, and asked several hurried questions, which were faithfully answered. Adelaide again sank back upon her couch, and remained for some time silent, with her eyes staring wildly, and directed towards Heaven. —“Then it was not a dream!” she said at length aloud; “it was not in a vision, that I saw those dreadful scenes at Ravenstein! it was but yesterday, that all this happened, and yet it seems to me, as if since then there had past half a century!”— —“Pardon me, noble Lady. It is now three days, since you have been in safety: to-day is the first Monday after the Nativity, and....”— —“Monday, say’st thou? the first Monday after ... Rodolpho! oh! Rodolpho!”— She attempted to quit her bed, but Gertrude prevented her. —“Dear Lady,” said she, “recollect your weak condition: the sudden chill or the morning-air would be enough to kill you.”— —“Right, right! then it is only morning yet? oh! yes; I now see myself that it is no more. Look, where the sun rises from behind yonder mountain! ha! how red and how gloomy he burns, foreboding that it will be a bloody day!”— Gertrude comprehended not her meaning, and replied not. Adelaide repeated her request that she might be permitted to rise, with such earnestness that her attendants were compelled to obey her. She suddenly drew her arm from Gertrude’s, and walked a few paces without assistance.