Away over the broad face of the earth, out from such peace as this, might there, if one could look--unroll some vision of horrible contrast? Were blood, and wrath, and groans, and thunderous roar of guns down there under that far, fair horizon, stooping in golden beauty to the cool, green hills? Faith walked down the field path, presently, to meet her husband, coming up. He held in his hand an open paper, that he had brought, just now from the village. There was news. Rout, horror, confusion, death, dismay. The field of Manassas had been fought. The Union armies were falling back, in disorder, upon Washington. Breathlessly, with pale faces, and with hands that grasped each other in a deep excitement that could not come to speech, they read those columns, together. Down there, on those Virginian plains, was this. And they were here, in quiet safety, among the clover blooms, and the new-cut hay. Elsewhere, men were mown. "Roger!" said Faith, when, by and by, they had grown calmer over the fearful tidings, and had had Bible words of peace and cheer for the fevered and bloody rumors of men--"mightn't we take our wedding journey, now?" All the bright, early summer, in those first months of their life together, they had been finding work to do. Work they had hardly dreamed of when Faith had feared she might be left to a mere, unworthy, selfish rest and happiness. The old New England spirit had roused itself, mightily, in the little country town. People had forgotten their own needs, and the provision they were wont to make, at this time, each household for itself. Money and material, and quick, willing hands were found, and a good work went on; and kindling zeal, and noble sympathies, and hearty prayers wove themselves in, with toil of thread and needle, to homely fabrics, and embalmed, with every finger touch, all whereon they labored. They had remembered the old struggle wherein their country had been born. They were glad and proud to bear their burden in this grander one wherein she was to be born anew, to higher life. Roger Armstrong and his wife had been the spring and soul and center of all. And now Faith said: "Roger! mayn't we take our wedding journey?" Not for a bridal holiday--not for gay change and pleasure--but for a holy purpose, went they out from home. Down among the wounded, and war-smitten. Bearing comfort of gifts, and helpful words, and prayers. Doing whatsoever they found to do, now; seeking and learning what they might best do, hereafter. Truly, God left them not without a work. A noble ministry lay ready for them, at this very threshold of their wedded life. In the hospital at Georgetown, they found Nurse Sampson. "I told you so," she said. "I knew it was coming. And the first gun brought me down here to be ready. I've been out to Western Virginia; and I came back here when we got the news of this. I shall follow round, wherever the clouds roll." In Washington, still another meeting awaited them.