There was a cry of horror.
“He is down—no, no, by Jove, he clings there with one hand. See how bravely he exerts himself—as cool as a cucumber through all. Now he seizes a new support; he will slide down the pole. Hurrah! both are safe, thank heaven.”
Then Joe turned to Marian.
“What do you think of that man?” he asked.
“He is a hero—I love him,” she said impulsively.
“Good! I shall let him know that fact some day. Here he comes now with the child on his shoulder, his face blackened, his hair scorched, but, thank God, the same Eric as of old.”
The man passed them by—it was Eric Darrell!
Marian turned white and then rosy red.
“Joe,” she said almost fiercely, “if you ever repeat my words, I’ll—go back to Chicago.”
Whether Joe repeated them or not no one ever knew, but Eric heard enough to encourage him to renew his suit, and when Marian did return to Chicago it was as Mrs. Darrell.