Robert Grantham, his eyes fixed in painful anxiety upon the window, was the first to see the signal. With a gasp of joy he started for the house, and Rathbeal, whose attention just then had been diverted by the figure of Martha crouching by the bridge, hearing his footsteps, turned to follow him. At the moment of his doing so, Martha, seeing them walk away, crept on to the bridge and leaned over. Suddenly she straightened herself, and raising her arms aloft, whispered softly, "I'm coming--I'm coming!" and let herself fall into the water. The heavy splash, accompanied by a muffled scream, reached Rathbeal's ears before he had proceeded twenty yards. Turning to the bridge, and missing the figure of the crouching woman, he instinctively divined what had happened. "Don't stop for me," he cried hurriedly to Grantham. "I'll follow you." Then he ran back to the bridge. Robert Grantham did not hear him, so absorbed was he in the supreme moment that was approaching. Had a storm burst upon him, he would scarcely have been conscious of it. Who was that standing at the window, waving the handkerchief! It was not John Dixon. His eyes were dim, his heart palpitated violently, as he fancied he recognized the form of his wife. If it were so, indeed his hope was answered. He was met at the door by Charlotte, who led him to the room above. Standing upon the threshold he saw his wife looking with wistful yearning toward him--toward her husband who, after these long years, had come to her, as it were, from the grave. They were spellbound for a few moments, incapable of speech or motion, each gazing upon the other for a sign. John Dixon stepped noiselessly to Charlotte's side, and the lovers left the room hand in hand, closing the door gently behind them. Husband and wife, so strangely reunited, were alone. She was the first to move. Bending forward, she held out her arms, and her eyes shone with ineffable love; with a sob he advanced, and fell upon his knees before her. Sinking into a chair, she drew his head to her breast and folded her arms around him. Let the veil fall upon those sacred minutes. Aching hearts were eased, faith was restored, and Love shed its holy light upon Lucy and Robert. "Our child!" he whispered. "Our Clair!" "I will take you to her," she said, and led him to the bed where Clair was sleeping.