"Can't tell. I may. It depends on what is doing, and how much I am wanted. Probably I may have to stay two years at least; perhaps three."
"But you can get a furlough and come for a little while, Evan?" said
Diana; her voice sounded frightened.
"That's the worst of it!" said Knowlton. "I don't know whether I can or not."
"Why, Evan? don't they always?"
"Generally it can be done if the distance is not too great, and you are not too useful. You see, there are seldom too many officers on hand, at those out-of-the-way posts."
"Is there so much to do?" said Diana, half mechanically. Her thoughts were going farther; for grant the facts, what did the reasons matter?
"There's a good deal to do sometimes," Evan answered in the same way, thinking of more than he chose to speak. They stood silent again awhile. Diana was clasped in Knowlton's arms; her cheek rested on his shoulder; they both looked to the fire for consolation. Snapping, sparkling, glowing, as it has done in the face of so many of our sorrows, small and great, is there no consolation or suggestion to be got out of it? Perhaps from it came the suggestion at last that they should sit down. Evan brought a chair for Diana and placed one for himself close beside it, and they sat down, holding fast each other's hands.
Was it also the counsel of the fire that they should sit there all night? For it was what they did. The fire burned gloriously; the lamp went out; the red lights leaped and flickered all over floor and ceiling; and in front of the blaze sat the two, and talked; enough to last two years, you and I might say; but alas! to them it was but a whetting of the appetite that was to undergo such famine.
"If I could only take you with me, my darling!" Evan said for the twentieth time. And Diana was silent at first; then she said,
"It would be pleasant to go through hardships together."