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.