sew. How the wind roared! She
must trim her fire too, or the room would be full of smoke. She made
the fire up; and then the snare of its leaping flames and glowing coal
bed drew her from her work; she sat looking and thinking, in a fulness
of happiness to which all the roar of the storm only served for a foil.
She heard the drip, drip of the rain; the fast-running stream from the
overcharged eaves trough; then the thunder of the wind sweeping over
the house in a great gust; and the whistle of the elm branches as they
swung through the air like tremendous lithe switches, beating and
writhing and straining in the fury of the blast. Looking into the
clear, glowing flames, Diana heard it all, with a certain sense of
enjoyment; when in the midst of it she heard another sound, a little
thing, but distinguishable from all the rest; the sound of a foot upon
the little stone before the door. Only one foot it could be in the
world; Diana started up, and was standing with lips apart, facing the
door, when it opened, and a man came in enveloped in a huge cloak,
dripping at every point.

"Evan!" Diana's exclamation was, with an utterance between joy and
dread.

"Yes," said he as he came forward into the room,--"I've got orders."

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 w