The place where we are now is only a village, five miles out of the road to Valmont.—Richardson advised me to make this sweep for fear of a pursuit.—He brought us here through cross roads on his own horses. I have sent him back; and the only chaise this little inn maintains is engaged for a two hours airing for some invalid in the village.—Have patience, madam.—Your friend is safe.
Richardson and myself possessed ourselves of the cell at half past nine last night.—Then in our disguises we prowled around the castle till about eleven, and heard the locking of doors, and saw in the upper windows light after light die away as their possessors yielded themselves to rest.
We would not venture too early. I believe it was past two before we left the armoury.—All was hushed.—The stairs!—the gallery!—her apartments!—I seized Richardson by the arm, as he attempted to turn the lock.—It seemed profanation. I feared every thing!—I would have gone back.—Richardson forbade me.
We entered the antichamber. We crossed two others. The door of a third stood open.—In that there was a fire, a candle, and a bed.—The curtains were undrawn; and I caught a glimpse of her face. Instantly, I drew the door so close as only to admit my hand, holding out your letter.—I gasped.—'Speak for me,' I said to Richardson; 'Say, Miss Ashburn.'
'Rise, dear Miss Valmont,' said he, 'Miss Ashburn sends you this.'
I heard her start from the bed.—'Who?—What?'
'Miss Ashburn,' repeated Richardson, 'Miss Ashburn, it is a letter from Miss Ashburn.'
She took or rather snatched the letter; and, as I withdrew my hand, she shut the door hastily.
I heard her utter an exclamation—I could hear her too burst into sobs and bless you.—I heard her also name another.
At length she asked, without opening the door, if I was indeed Mr. Murden, and if I could take her from the castle.