of God goes forth to war!
Who follows in His train?"

Florence Nightingale and her band of trained nurses, mainly from the
Roman Catholic Sisters of Mercy, and St. John's Protestant House, was
the instant answer. In six days they were ready and without any
flourish of trumpets, at the dark, quiet midnight, they left England
for Scutari and in that hour the Red Cross Society was born.

"How long is it since they sailed?" asked Rahal.

"A month," answered Ian, "but the controversy about it is still raging
in the English papers."

"What has anyone to say against it?" asked Rahal. "The need was
desperate, the answer quick. What, then, do they say?"

"The prudery of the English middle class was shocked at the idea of
young women nursing in military hospitals. They considered it 'highly
improper.' Others were sure women would be more trouble than help.
Many expect their health to fail, and think they will be sent back to
English hospitals in a month."

"I thought," said Ragnor, "that the objections were chiefly
religious."

"You are right," replied Ian. "The Calvinists are afraid Miss
Nightingale's intention is to make the men Catholics in their dying
hour. Others feel sure Miss Nightingale is an Universalist, or an
Unitarian, or a Wesleyan Methodist. The fact is, Florence Nightingale
is a devout Episcopalian."

A pleasant little smile parted Ragnor's lips, and he said with an
Episcopalian suavity: "The Wesleyans and the Episcopalians, in
doctrine, are much alike. We regard them as brethren;" and just while
he spoke, Ragnor looked like some ecclesiastical prelate.

"There is little to wonder at in the churches disagreeing about Miss
Nightingale," said Rahal, "it is not to be expected that they would
believe in her, when they do not believe in each other." As she spoke
she stepped to the fireside and touched the bell rope, and a servant
entered and began to clear the table and put more wood on the fire,
and to turn out one of the lamps at Rahal's order. Ragnor had gone out
to have a quiet smoke in the fresh air while Rahal was sending off all
the servants to a dance at the Fisherman's Hall. Ian and Thora were
not interested in these things; they sat close together, talking
softly of their own affairs.

Without special request, they drew closer to the hearth and to each
other. Then Ragnor took out a letter and handed it to Ian. He was
sitting at Thora's side and her hand was in his hand. He let it fall
and took