his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was
burning. The carpenter did not hesitate a moment. He took a handful of
the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the
small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. A pane of glass was
shivered by each stone. The signal of distress was evidently understood.
The light disappeared. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope
ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down.

Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this
unexpected means of escape. The ladder was now within reach. Both
advanced towards it, when, by the light of the lantern, Wood beheld, in
the countenance of the stranger, the well-remembered and stern features
of Rowland.

The carpenter trembled; for he perceived Rowland's gaze fixed first
upon the infant, and then on himself.

"It _is_ her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the
howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me.
Its parents have perished. And shall their wretched offspring live to
blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he
grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to
the very verge of the platform.

All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the
bridge. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the
storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones.

When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely
knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. The fatal