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.
Edith’s endeavours to preserve her little darling were not unsuccessful. He reached the ground in safety; but scarcely had she parted with him, when the increasing heat (for by this time the balconies of the neighbouring buildings were in flames) and the volumes of smoke, which poured into her chamber, overpowered her senses, and she sank without animation on the floor.
My situation was exactly similar. At the moment when I fainted, the only thought, which employed my mind, was the hope of an happy meeting with Edith in another better world; an hope which (I fully believed) was accomplished, when on once more unclosing my eyes, I found myself breathing pure air in a light and spacious chamber, and perceived by my side the friend whom I loved so tenderly, and for whose sight I had so long and so anxiously sighed in vain.
—“Oh! Edith!”—“Urania! my Urania!”—we both exclaimed at once, while we sank into each others’ arms; “What has happened? are we rescued from captivity on earth, or released from the fetters of mortality? Where is it that we meet, in freedom, in captivity, or in the life beyond the grave?”—
Too soon were our doubts removed: too soon were we compelled to feel, that we were rescued from death, but not restored to liberty. The still smoking ruins, which met our eyes from afar, told us but too plainly, that we were still within the walls of Ravenstein; and the unremitting vigilance, with which we were observed, made us well aware, that we had reaped no other advantage from the transactions of the night, except the delight of seeing and embracing a long-lost friend. But alas! what cruel reflections embittered this delight. Edith sorrowed for her son, and reproached herself for having suffered herself to part with him in despair, when had she detained him with her in the dungeon, he would have been preserved as well as his mother.
I felt scarcely less sorrow for the loss of the beloved child, than Edith herself; I would gladly have comforted her, but alas! where was comfort to be found? Even should he have escaped from the flames, which were raging with such violence at the moment when he quitted his mother, how difficult still did his preservation appear! We failed not on the day after the fire to examine the place, whence Edith had caused him to descend. The opening was not situated very high in the tower; but close to the place, where he must have reached the ground, there yawned a tremendous precipice; the depth of which when we vainly endeavoured to measure with our eyes, the flesh crept upon our bones, and cold drops of terror chased each other down our foreheads.
Bitter was our grief, but no one heeded our lamentations; our guards attended to nothing but the adventures of the past night, and we collected from their discourse, that the fire had been kindled by a lady confined in the eastern wing of the Castle. Her object, as they supposed, was to find some means of escaping during the confusion, which her rash action had necessarily produced; she had not only failed in her design, but had suffered so severely by springing from a lofty window, and by the wounds which she had received from the fragments of a falling tower, that she was not expected to outlive the night.