but brought no Mignon. 'He has his reasons,'
answered the Lady Imogene: 'Lothair is never wrong. And soon, right
soon, I hope, we shall need no messenger.' Oh, what a long, long day was
this, the last of her captivity! Will the night never come--that night
she had once so much dreaded? Sun, wilt thou never set? There is no
longer gladness in thy beams. The shadows, indeed, grow longer, and yet
thine orb is as high in heaven as if it were an everlasting noon!
The unceasing cry of the birds, once so consoling, now only made her
restless. She listened, and she listened, until at length the rosy
sky called forth their last thrilling chant, and the star of evening
summoned them to roost.

It was twilight: pacing her chamber, and praying to the Virgin, the
hours at length stole away. The chimes of the sanctuary told her that
it wanted but a quarter of an hour to midnight. Already she had formed
a rope of shawls: now she fastened it to the-lattice with all her force.
The bell struck twelve, and the Lady Imogene delivered herself to her
fate. Slowly and fearfully she descended, long suspended in the air,
until her feet at length touched a ledge of rock. Cautiously feeling her
footing, she now rested, and looked around her. She had descended about
twenty feet. The moon shone bright on the rest of the descent, which was
more rugged. It seemed not impracticable--she clambered down.

'Hist! hist!' said a familiar voice, 'all is right, lady--but why did
you not answer us?'

'Ah! Theodore, where is my Lothair?'

'Lord Branchimont is shaded by the trees--give me thy hand, sweet lady.
Courage! all is right; but indeed you should have answered us.'

Imogene de Charolois is in the arms of Lothair de Branchimont.

'We have no time for embraces,' said Theodore; 'the horses are ready.
The Virgin be praised, all is right. I would not go through such an
eight-and-forty hours again to be dubbed a knight on the spot. Have you
Mignon?'

'Mignon, indeed! he has not visited me these two days.'

'But my letter,' said Lothair-'you received it?'

'It was thrown in at my window,' said the Lady Imogene.

'My heart misgives me,' said little Theodore. 'Away! there is no time
to lose. Hist! I hear footsteps. This way, dear friends. Hist! a shout!
Fly! fly! Lord Branchimont, we are betrayed!'

And indeed from all quarters simultaneous sounds now rose, and torches
seemed suddenly to wave in all quarters. Imogene clung to the neck of
Lothair.