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 of applause, and
when he danced the first dance with Anita once more there was applause
and something in the eyes of the smiling, handclapping crowd that
brought the ever-ready color into Anita's delicately lovely face. It