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.”—
Already was I advancing to take the hand which she held out, when Edith uttered a loud scream, and hastily drew me back. She had observed the captive’s countenance change suddenly, and we now saw, that she grasped a poniard till then concealed in her bosom. From that moment the senses of the wretched stranger were irrecoverably lost. Her eyes full of rage were constantly directed towards me; she foamed at the mouth; she loaded me with execrations, and I was compelled to retire, that she might have a chance of regaining some composure.
The meaning of this dreadful scene was to me an absolute enigma. I lamented the poor wretch’s condition; though a secret horror, whenever I recollected her words and manner, took complete possession of my soul. In this painful situation did I pass the night; the morning had scarcely dawned, when the Countess of Mayenfield rejoined me, and informed me that the unknown lady was no more. Edith was quite exhausted by the terrible occurrences of the past night. I enquired, whether she had made no discoveries, which might unravel these mysterious circumstances: but she answered by an assurance, that it was impossible for her to give me any light upon the subject.
In mournful silence did we follow to the grave the corse of our wretched partner in captivity. She was interred in one of the back-courts of our prison; and we were conducted after the burial into a gloomy apartment in a quarter of the Castle, which had escaped the violence of the flames. Our present dungeon was in no respect better, than our former had been; and the small portion of freedom, which we had enjoyed during the few last days, now appeared to our stern jailors too great an indulgence, and we were accordingly deprived of it.
We heard the door barred on the outside; we sank into each other’s arms, and wept bitterly: then we rejoiced, that at least we had been suffered to remain together, and then we wept again. We endeavoured to escape from present miseries by recalling former happiness, and indulging future hopes; but alas! this resource was but of little avail. Yet among all the agonizing reflections which tormented us, nothing was so painful to remember, as the loss of our little darling, Ludolf!
I will not pain your gentle hearts, my children, by dwelling on our sufferings in this forlorn situation, during which our only support was the soothing of mutual pity. A change at length took place in it, but we had little reason to expect, that it would turn out to our advantage! Our guards informed us one day, that the Count of Carlsheim had sent a new Castellan to superintend the government of this half-ruined fortress; and they added, we should soon find cause to regret under our new overseer that treatment, which we had complained of as being so harsh and rigid. We trembled, as we listened to this prophecy. Aversion and spite against this new instrument of Count Ethelbert’s vengeance were plainly exprest in every feature of our former jailors, yet did they scarcely dare to express their dislike of him aloud: what then had we to expect? How dreadful must that man be, who could strike terror even into the flinty hearts of these barbarians!
We had not long been informed of his arrival, when this dreaded Castellan entered our dungeon, accompanied by several of our former guards. We trembled, as we gazed on the gloomy brow of the man, to whose hands our fate was consigned. Walter Forest, for (so was our jailor called) scarcely deigned to honour us with a look, while he informed us, that we must prepare ourselves to quit Ravenstein at midnight, the Count of Carlsheim not thinking the Castle safe enough, since the late fire, for the confinement of prisoners of our consequence. We wished to address a few words to him, imploring better treatment for the future; but he turned away from us rudely, blamed the attendants for having suffered us to remain unfettered, and having caused heavy shackles to be brought immediately, he saw them rivetted before he left the dungeon.
The doors were fastened after him more cautiously, if possible, than before. Yet in spite of his vigilance and positive commands, the former chief of our guards (who seemed to look on his being deprived of his cruel office as an insult) contrived to gain admission to us privately, and to confirm by his warnings the dreadful suspicions, with which our imaginations were but too strongly imprest already.