f Broussard had saved the
life of a child of their own.

Colonel Fortescue was a soldier and recovered himself and walked
bravely with Mrs. Fortescue in the moonlight to their quarters,
Broussard and Anita riding ahead as if nothing had happened, when
everything had happened. At the door Broussard left Anita; both had to
dress for the ball.

In the office, his City of Refuge, Colonel Fortescue sat in his chair
and trembled like a leaf. Mrs. Fortescue, with tender words and soft
caresses, comforted him.

"Stay with me, dear wife," he said, "I tell you as truly as if I were
this moment facing a firing squad that I never knew what fear was until
this night, and yet I thought I knew it and could feel my heart
quivering as I cheered my men to the charge. Betty, I love our child
too much, too much!"

"No," said Mrs. Fortescue, kissing his cheek, "you don't love her half
as much as you love me. Suppose I had been there in our child's place."

The Colonel put his arm over his face.

"Don't, Betty--I can't bear it," he cried.

"But you must bear it; you must go to the ball in twenty minutes."

The Colonel, with bewildered eyes, looked at her as if to ask what were
balls, and where?

Mrs. Fortescue said no more. Presently they heard Anita's light step
on the stairs. She flitted into the office and looked, in her ball
gown of shimmering white, as pure and sweet as one of her white doves.

"I'm ready for the ball, dad," she said, smiling and kissing the
Colonel and her mother, "I am a soldier's daughter, and I can't let a
little thing keep me from my duty--which is, to go to the ball."

Colonel Fortescue caught her in his arms.

"What a spirit!" he cried brokenly, "You have the making of ten
soldiers in you, my daughter, my little daughter!"

Mrs. Fortescue rose and drew her beautiful evening cloak around her.
Colonel Fortescue noticed for the first time how pale she was, but
there was a smile on her lips and the fine light of courage in her eye;
it was partly from her that Anita inherited her brave spirit.

Colonel Fortescue rose, too; he could not be less brave than his wife
and daughter. Anita kissed him tenderly; a soft-hearted deserter
always takes an affectionate leave of his comrades when he is about to
desert.

At the ball Colonel and Mrs. Fortescue were composed, smiling,
graceful; Anita was less shy, more laughing than usual. When Broussard
entered the ball-room he was greeted with a great roar