They remained on the farm during the summer season, and at the cabin on the Shinglekill during the trapping season. A few days after they had moved on the Milford farm, Amy and Drake, at the edge of evening, went fishing in the Delaware river. Up to this time, nothing had been said to Amy about her home or former friends. Drake had long wished to hear her story, but out of delicacy had refrained from questioning her. Amy often spoke of the loss she had sustained in the death of her mother, but went no further. She seemingly wished to conceal from the world her parentage. The water was bubbling at their feet. The wind whistled through the branches of the trees. The birds sang. The squirrels chattered, but Drake and Amy remained silent. Now and then they would exchange glances toward each other, as much as to say: “Why don’t you speak?” Some time before this, Drake had resolved to go in search of his parents, but now he felt it his duty to stay and protect this orphan child. _Duty_, is that all? don’t _I love her_? he said to himself in an undertone, but loud enough to be heard by Amy. Love who? Who do you love? she remarked with a blush. Drake blushed, but could think of nothing to say to cover his confusion. Amy placed her arm about his neck, seized his hand, and gazed intently into his eyes. You love somebody. I know you do. Do you feel just as I do. Do you love some one? asked Drake. Yes, she replied, laying her hand on his breast. Yes, brother, I do love, I did love, I ever shall love, and bursting into tears, she cried like a child, and it was several minutes before she could control her feelings to finish the sentence. Drake could not understand this. At first he thought that she had reference to him. But the language “I do love, I did love, I ever shall love,” indicated, that young as she was, she had not escaped cupid’s dart. Calm yourself, Amy, perhaps I can assist you. Is it Tom that you love? and are you crying because he would rather be with the Indians than with you? No brother, I like Tom, but I don’t love him. What difference is there between liking and loving? asked Drake. Oh, I don’t know, brother, but it seems to me that I feel different toward Walter than I do toward Tom and you or any one else. I don’t know what makes me. I only know that I do. Who is Walter? and where does he live? asked Drake. He was Walter Wallace, and lived by us on the Callicoon. But where is he now? I don’t know—probably dead. Yet something tells me that he is alive and that I shall see him again. When did you see him last? Drake inquired. I saw him last standing on the bank of the Callicoon, but he could not get to us. Mother and I and the cat were on the raft, and the river was running between us. He acted as if he was trying to tell us something, but the water made such a noise we could not hear him. He probably thinks you were drowned, replied Drake.