# The Midnight Bell/Volume I/Chapter VIII

CHAPTER VIII.
————Patience and sorrow strove
Which should express her goodliest.
Lear
The day had been close and sultry; towards evening the sky began to lower, and the clouds seemed big with an approaching deluge of rain. Lauretta observed them with sensations of melancholy pleasure; the gloom in which all nature was clad seemed in unison with her feelings: she contemplated the scene before her, till, thought rising successively on thought, she became almost insensible to her own situation. Her reflections were at length interrupted by the entrance of Bartha, who brought her a cup of new milk, some fresh gathered fruit, and a slice of coarse bread, of which she entreated her to partake, as Kroonzer and Ralberg purposed proceeding on their journey in half an hour's time.
Lauretta, in order to please her kind hostess, rather than to satisfy the calls of nature, which were blunted by extreme grief, tasted the fruits, and sipped a small quantity of the milk, whilst Bartha again called forth every argument with which she was acquainted, to persuade Lauretta, that, as her husband had said she had nothing to fear, she was sure she had not. But this reasoning appeared to Lauretta, although she attempted not to confute it, too weak to afford her any solid consolation.
The voice of Kroonzer now called upon her to descend. The feeble resistance she could make, she well knew, would be of no avail; ready compliance might conciliate her guards; she therefore instantly obeyed the summons. Ralberg met her at the foot of the stairs, and taking her in his arms, placed her on a horse before his comrade, and then vaulted upon another himself, which the peasant held till he had mounted it.
A thick darkness blackened the horizon, and a dead silence prevailed, save when, at intervals, short gusts of wind announced a rising storm.
In a short time, vivid flashes of blue lightning momentarily illumined the atmosphere, and shot across the lofty mountains; the combating clouds rolled rapidly towards each other, and jarring, burst in tremendous claps, which, from their loudness, seemed immediately over the heads of Lauretta and her companions.
After an hour and a half, as nearly as Lauretta could guess, passed in journeying amidst this dreadful contention of the elements, and in almost incessant darkness, except when, at intervals, the darting flashes of lightning seemed to clothe the furze-grown earth in flakes of fire, the storm which, fortunately for the unhappy Lauretta, had been attended with but little rain, began gradually to subside, and a misty moon-light succeeded.
Their road, she now perceived, lay through a deep glen. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed, "should this be my destined grave!" and, chilled by the apprehensions her own imagination had raised, she insensibly hung down her head and closed her eyes.
A length of time elapsed ere she again ventured to look around her; and she then saw that they were entering upon a forest of lofty trees, thickly planted with underwood.
Ralberg and his companion had been in conversation together since the cessation of the storm; but she had not been able to gather any thing from their discourse that served either to diminish or increase her terrors.
Lauretta, becoming extremely fatigued and exhausted, again closed her eyes; and, notwithstanding the alarm under which she laboured, she struggled ineffectually against the attacks of sleep, which at length overpowered her fainting frame.
Suddenly starting from her involuntary slumber, she shivered violently, a dizziness seized her head; and although the night was become much clearer, she could not for some time distinguish any object.
A turret, which rose above a distant cluster of trees, now caught her gazing eye; and as she proceeded, she discovered that it formed part of a building towards which her guards were advancing.
Her eyes continued fixed on the object before them; and as she approached it, her alarm became extreme: her conductors spoke not, and she waited her doom in anxious silence.
The light of the moon, reflected on the building, showed her that one wing was entirely in ruins, and the whole edifice in a state of decay.
On being lifted from the horse, she was unable to stand; her knees knocked violently; and, almost insensible of her situation, she sunk upon the supporting arms of Kroonzer.
Ralberg having fastened the horses to a broken pillar of the colonnade, pushed back the heavy gate, which creaked loudly on its hinges; Kroonzer then entered the building with Lauretta in his arms, and as he placed her on a seat seemingly formed by a niche in the stone wall, he called to his companion, telling him instantly to strike a light, and chiding him for having waited his bidding. His words were re-echoed from every part of the building, and in sounds so dismally hollow, as caused Lauretta to shudder violently.
Ralberg made no answer, but began striking his flint:—for some moments Lauretta heard the uninterrupted jarring of the steel and flint; and, with a heart beating high with the anxious desire of seeing the joyful ray of light which was to release her from the horrid gloom in which she now trembled, she fixed her eyes upon the spot where the sound informed her Ralberg was stationed, when a flash of light drew them suddenly to the opposite side of the hall; it appeared to her to have proceeded from a lamp on the side on which she was sitting; she immediately turned round her head, and beheld a man who carried a lamp, with his back towards her, enter a door, which he immediately closed after him.
As the ruinous state of the building had not left Lauretta the least room to doubt that it was uninhabited, she immediately concluded the man she had seen to be Kroonzer, although she knew not whence he had procured the light, and again turned her eyes towards Ralberg; when, to her great astonishment, she saw them both approaching towards her with their lamp lighted. A shriek, which she endeavoured to suppress, burst involuntarily from her lips, and she immediately perceived the same door partly opened, and the arm and visage of a man, whose features she could not distinguish, appear within it. Theodore instantly recurred to her imagination; the recollection of him shot like a bolt of ice across her heart, and she sunk lifeless on the ground.
On the return of her senses, she was lying upon an uncanopied bed, and a dim lamp, which was burning in the apartment, showed her Ralberg standing by her side; she immediately cast her eyes round in search of Theodore;—the apartment was large, and the light thrown out by the lamp insufficient to convince her that he whom she dreaded was not within it;—raising herself upon the bed, she seized the hand of Ralberg, and, bursting into tears, conjured him "to save her,—to protect her from Theodore."—In as softened accents as his rough voice would permit him to articulate, he bade her be composed, and banish her apprehensions.—With a look of doubt, she again fixed on him her streaming eyes, and grasping more strictly the hand she had before held, she exclaimed, "May heaven reward you as you pity my misfortunes."
The sound of footsteps now called her attention to another part of the chamber. Kroonzer entered: he brought with him a cup of wine, some fruit, and bread; and, having taken the lamp from the ground, he placed them on a table near the bed; he then invited Lauretta to rise and taste them; she answered him only with her tears; he repeated his invitation; she endeavoured to speak, but her sobs prevented her utterance.—Springing from the bed, she threw herself at his feet, and clasped his knees; he pushed her from him, and beckoning to Ralberg to follow him, they left the apartment; and she heard the door locked and bolted after them.
The violent agitation of her spirits being somewhat abated, she took up the lamp, and walked round the apartment, in order to be certified whether any one was secreted within it.—Its form was circular; the roof high and vaulted; the walls of stone; the casements small, and many feet raised from the ground; and the entire appearance led her to conjecture, that she was now in that turret which had attracted her notice while journeying through the forest.
She then set down the lamp, and taking from her bosom a small ivory crucifix, which she placed on the table, she knelt, and, having fervently declared her gratitude for the sufferings of him in memory of whom she wore the sacred remembrancer now before her, she proceeded to implore of him fortitude, to enable her to bear up under the calamities which surrounded her, and his divine aid, against the evil designs of those whom she dreaded more than death; concluding by a declaration of her faith in his beneficence, and her unfeigned submission to his will.
Rising, and replacing in her bosom the crucifix, she felt a composure proceeding from her confidence in that power she had just addressed, which she little imagined she should have experienced; still, however, by no means sufficiently free from alarm to endeavour to compose herself to rest, she placed herself in a chair which stood near the bed, and, as from the stillness of the scene her terrors became gradually abated, she grew more collected, and better able to ruminate on the occurrences of the night.
The figure of the man whom she had seen was unremittingly before her eyes; and the feelings of her mind naturally assigning to him the person of Theodore, her fears began to return as strongly as ever; she sighed deeply, and the tears ran swiftly down her burning cheeks;—she rose, and walked slowly about the apartment, stopping at intervals and fixing her swollen eyes on the ground in mournful reflection on the past, and poignant anticipation of the future.
Faint and exhausted with fatigue of body, and anguish of mind, she again seated herself in the chair.—In a short time, the languor which hung upon her increased almost to inability, her eyes became dim, and big drops of perspiration started from her forehead;—shivering, she extended her trembling arm, and grasped the cup of wine; with difficulty she raised it to her head, and then, for some moments, her quivering lips refused admittance to the reviving cordial;—having twice swallowed a small draught of the liquor contained in the cup, the trembling which had seized her began to subside, the blood began again to circulate in her veins, and life seemed newly warmed within her heart; she again sipped a small quantity of the wine,—a glow succeeded the shivering fit, and a drowsiness, which she endeavoured in vain to shake off, stole gradually upon her, and lulled her into a profound sleep.