GRIMM. You do not look at us! Your faithful followers.
CHARLES. Woe to ye, if ye are faithful to me!
GRIMM. The last farewell from your servant Schweitzer!—
CHARLES (starting). Then ye have not found him?
SCHWARZ. Found him dead.
CHARLES (leaping up with joy). Thanks, O Sovereign Ruler of all things! —Embrace me, my children!—Mercy be henceforward our watchword!—Now, were that too surmounted,—all would be surmounted.
Enter ROBBERS with AMELIA.
ROBBERS. Hurrah! hurrah! A prize, a splendid prize!
AMELIA (with hair dishevelled). The dead, they cry, have arisen at his voice—My uncle alive—in this wood—Where is he? Charles? Uncle!—Ha? (She rushes into the arms, of OLD MOOR.)
OLD MOOR. Amelia! my daughter! Amelia! (Holds her tightly grasped in his arms.)