"She will go," said Blundel, abruptly. "I'll make her. She knows _me_. She will go if I tell her she must. That is what comes of being an old fellow, you see, and not a lady's man." He had not any doubt of his success with her, and, to tell the truth, neither had Colonel Tredennis. He saw that his blunt honesty and unceremonious, half-paternal domineering would prove to her that he was in the right, even if she were at first reluctant; and this being settled, and the matter left in Blundel's hands, the colonel went away. Only before going he said a few words, rather awkwardly. "There would be nothing to be gained by mentioning my name," he said. "It is mere accident that--that I chance to know what I have spoken of. She does not know that I know it. I should prefer that she should not." "What!" said Blundel,--"she is not to know how you have been standing by her?" "She knows that I would stand by her if she needed me. She does not need me; she needs you. I have nothing to do with the matter. I don't wish to be mentioned." When he was gone Blundel rubbed his hair backward and then forward by way of variety. "Queer fellow!" he said, meditatively. "Not quite sure I've exactly got at him yet. Brave as a lion and shy as a boy. Absolutely afraid of women." CHAPTER XXXVII. In less than an hour his card was brought to Bertha as she sat with her children. She read it with a beating heart, and, having done so, put down Meg and her picture-book. "I will go down at once," she said to the servant. In two minutes she was standing in the middle of the parlor, and her guest was holding her hand in his, and looking at her earnestly and curiously. "You didn't expect to see me here, did you?" he said. "No," she answered; "but you are kind to come." "I didn't expect to be here myself," he said. "Where is your husband? Somebody told me he had gone away." "He is in New York," she replied. He gave her one of his sharp glances and drew her toward a chair. "Sit down by me," he said. "You are in no condition to be kept standing. I want to talk to you. You mustn't look like that," he said. "It won't do. You are worn out, but you mustn't give up. I have come to order you to do something." "I will do anything you tell me," she answered. "You will? Well, that's good! I thought you would, too. I want you to take me to this ball that is to be given to-morrow night." She started in amazement. "To the ball!" she exclaimed. "Surprises you, doesn't it? I supposed it would; it surprises me a little, but I want to go nevertheless, and I have a reason." "I am sure it is a good one," she said. "It is," he answered. "None but the best would take me there. I never went to a ball in my life. _You_ are the reason. I am going to take care of _you_." A faint, sad smile touched her lips. "Some one has said something more against me," she said, "and you want to defend me. Don't take the trouble. It is not worth while."