ast, of my sad story; and even if he is not willing, I think I must
tell you a part of it. I owe it to you, Aunt Marian!"

"I shall be at home all day, my dear," I said, kissing the poor, pale
lips with such tender pity as I had never thought to feel for Percy
Lunt.

CHAPTER III.

It was early in September, 1862, and on Sunday morning, the day after I
had received the promise of at least a partial confidence from Percy. We
were to come home together from meeting, and she was to spend the rest
of the day quietly with me. Many a query passed through my mind as I
walked along. I wondered at a thousand things,--at the mysteries that
are directly under our feet,--at the true stories that belong to every
family, and are never known but to the trusted few,--at the many that
are known but to the one heart, whereon they are cut in sharp letters.

As I approached the meeting-house, I saw Mr. Ford talking earnestly with
Colonel Lunt and Mr. Wilder on the porch-step, while the pews were
already full, and the clock pointed to ten minutes past the usual time.
I had myself been detained until late, and had walked rapidly and quite
alone.

The heart of the community was on the _qui vive_ so constantly, that any
unusual sign startled and alarmed every one. A minute more, and Mr. Ford
passed rapidly up the broad aisle, his face pale with excitement.
Instead of the opening prayer, he said to us: "Brethren and sisters!
there has been a great battle,--a terrible battle at Antietam! They have
sent on to the North for aid for the wounded, who are being brought on
as fast as possible to Washington. But they are brought in by thousands,
and everything is needed that any of us can spare."

All of us had risen to our feet.

"I have thought we should best serve and praise our God by ministering
to the sufferings of our brave boys! God knows what afflictions are in
store for us; but all who can aid in this extremity I am sure will do
so, and the blessing of those ready to perish will fall on them."

Mr. Ford ceased speaking. He had two boys with McClellan; and then
Colonel Lunt, in a few words, stated the arrangements which had already
been made by himself and Mr. Wilder, who was a deacon of the church, to
convey any articles that might be contributed to the railroad station
ten miles away. Whatever was gathered together should be brought to the
Common at once, where it would be boxed and put into the wagons.

"Ah, then and there wa