With a heart responding to this idea, Arthur suffered his companions each to take an arm, and went on with them to the Globe ball-room. The haggard ghost, the pale figure of warning and remorse, was gone for ever from Arthur's heart.
Wilkins, the moment he discovered who it was he had rescued, gave scarce a thought to the flight of those who had opposed him; but, with a gush of thankfulness in his heart, he drew Blanche's arm within his, and led her back toward her own house.
"How came you to be in the street at this hour, Miss? Do you know it is after midnight, and young girls like you are never safe in these streets at such hours?"
"Oh, sir," said Blanche, bursting into tears, "my grandpapa was taken very ill. I had no one to send, you know, and of course I had to go for assistance myself. I looked all up and down the street, and saw nobody, not even a watch-man; so I put on my cloak, and ran for the doctor. He wasn't home; so I went a little further to see old Elise, who always gives me medicine that helps grandpapa, and she detained me a little while preparing it; and when I came out, they came behind me; I tried my very best to run away, but I fell down, and they caught me. Oh, Mon Dieu! Monsieur! what if you hadn't come just as you did!"
"You would have been a most miserable little girl, without doubt, Miss Blanche."
"I can never thank you enough, Monsieur."
"You can repay me by never going out at such a time again."
"And when another case comes just as extreme, Mr. Wilkins, what can I do? I couldn't let poor grandpapa die, could I?"