It was growing late, and the sunset shadows were already creeping into the Hollow when Rose bade Annie good-bye, promising to come again ere long, and wondering, as she took her homeward way, whence came the calm, quiet peace which made Annie Graham so happy, even though her husband were far away in the midst of danger and death. Rose had heard that Annie was a Christian, and so were many others whom she knew, but they were much like herself,—good, well-meaning people, amiable, and submissive when everything went to suit them, but let their husbands once join the army and they would make quite as much fuss as she, who did not profess to be anything. And then, for the first time in her life, Rose wished she, too, could learn from Annie’s teacher, and so have something to sustain her in case her husband should go. But he wouldn’t go,—and if he did, all the religion in the world could not make her resigned,—and the tears sprang to Rose’s eyes as she hurried up the handsome walk to the piazza, where _Will_ sat smoking his cigar in the hazy twilight. She told him where she had been, and then sitting upon his knee told him of Annie, wishing she could be like her, and asking if he did not wish so too. Will made no direct reply. His thoughts were evidently elsewhere, and after a few minutes he said, hesitatingly: “Would it break my darling’s heart if I should join Tom at Washington?” There was a cry of horror, and Rose hid her face in her husband’s bosom. “Oh, Will, Will, you shan’t, you can’t, you mustn’t and won’t! I didn’t know you ever thought of such a cruel thing. Don’t you love me any more? I’ll try to do better, I certainly will!” and Rose nestled closer to him, holding his hands just as Annie Graham had once held her husband’s. “You could not be much better, neither could I love you more than I do now, Rosa, darling,” Mr. Mather replied, kissing her childish brow. “But, Rosa, be reasonable once, and listen while I tell you how, ever since the fall of Sumter, I have thought the time would come, when I should be needed, resolving, too, that when it came, it should not find me a second _Sardanapalus_!” The sudden lifting of Rose’s head, and her look of perplexed inquiry, showed that notwithstanding the fanciful ornament styled a _Diploma_ lying in her writing-desk, Sardanapalus had not the honor of being numbered among her acquaintances. But her heart was too full to ask an explanation, and her husband continued: “Besides that, there was a mutual understanding between Tom and myself, that if one went the other would, and he has gone,—nobly laying aside all the party prejudice which for a time influenced his conduct. Our country needs more men.” “Yes, yes,” gasped Rose; “but more have gone. There’s scarcely a boy left in town, and it’s just so every where.” Mr. Mather smiled as he replied: