Without another word she helped relieve him of his cloak and went with it to the outer kitchen, where she hung it carefully to dry. As she came back, Evan was standing in front of the fire, looking gravely into it. The light danced and gleamed upon the gold buttons on his breast, and touched the gold bands on his shoulders; it was a very stately and graceful figure to Diana's eyes. He turned a little, took her into his arms, and then they both stood silent and still. "I've got my orders," Knowlton repeated in a low tone. "To go soon, Evan?" "Immediately." "I knew it, when I heard your foot at the door." They were both still again, while the storm swept over the house in a fresh burst, the wind rushing by as if it was glad he was going and meant he should. Perhaps the two did not hear it; but I think Diana did. The rain poured down in a kind of fury. "How could you get here, Evan?" she asked, looking up at him. "I must, I had only to-night." "You are not _wet?_" "No, darling! Rain is nothing to me. How are you? and how is your mother?" "She is better. She is getting well." "And you? You are most like a magnolia tree, full of its white magnificent blossoms; sweet in a kind of wealth of sweetness and bountiful beauty. One blossom would do for a comparison for ordinary women; but you are like the whole tree." "Suppose I were to find comparisons for you?" "Ay, suppose you did. What would you liken me to?" said he with a sparkle of the eyes, which quite indisposed Diana from giving any more fuel to the fire that supplied it. "What, Di? You might as well give me all the comfort you can to take away with me. I shall need it. And it will be long before I can come back for more. What am I like?" "Would you feel any better for thinking yourself like a pine tree? or a green hemlock? one of those up in our ravine of the brook?" "Ah, our ravine of the brook! Those days are all gone. I wish I were a green hemlock anywhere, with you a magnolia beside me; or better, a climbing rose hanging upon me! If I could take you, Di!" The pang of the wish was very keen in her; the leap of the will towards impossibilities; but she said nothing and stood quite motionless. "I cannot come back for you at Christmas, Di." "Where are you going, Evan." "Where I would not take you, anyhow. I am under orders to report myself at a post away off on the Indian frontier, a long journey from here; and a rough, wild place never fit for such as you. Of course we young officers are the ones to be sent to such places; unless we happen to have influence at headquarters, which I haven't. But I shall not stay there for ever." "Must you go just where they send you?" "Yes," he said with a laugh. "A soldier cannot choose." "Must you stay as long as they keep you there?"