Meanwhile events in the bloody drama of the war were culminating.
The Union officers were thought to have neither the wisdom to fight
at the right time nor the discretion to retreat when fighting was
worse than useless. In consequence thousands of brave men were
believed by many to have died in vain once more on the ill-fated
field of Bull Run.

One morning, the last of August, Strahan galloped to the Vosburgh
cottage and said to Marian, who met him at the door: "Orders have
come. I have but a few minutes in which to say good-by. Things
have gone wrong in Virginia, and every available man is wanted in
Washington."

His flushed face was almost as fair as her own, and gave him a boyish
aspect in spite of his military dress, but unhesitating resolution
and courage beamed from his eyes.

"Oh, that I were a man!" Marian cried, "and you would have company.
All those who are most to me will soon be perilling their lives."

"Guess who has decided to go with me almost at the last moment."

"Mr. Blauvelt?"

"Yes; I told him that he was too high-toned to carry a musket,
but he said he would rather go as a private than as an officer. He
wishes no responsibility, he says, and, beyond mere routine duty,
intends to give all his time and thoughts to art. I am satisfied
that I have you to thank for this recruit."