He may think so, but he don’t know it, and as long as he don’t know, he will wait and look for me. He was a brave, bold, good boy. He loved me, and I loved him, and we were to be married. Oh, brother, I think I can see him now, standing on the bank of the river, and looking at me. But Drake, you said to yourself, (but I heard it,) that you “loved her.” Now tell me all about it as plainly as I have told you. We are brother and sister. Neither of us have a mother or relative that we know of. Drake remained silent. Have I offended you? Have I asked too much? If so forgive me. I have nothing to forgive. I have no one to love in the sense you put it. I will be content in liking—not loving. What do you mean, brother? I don’t understand you. Your words imply more than you say. You can trust Amy. Yes, dear girl, I can, and do trust you. When I said “_I love her_,” I meant you. I did not intend it for your ears. I was thinking whether I did not feel different toward you than I would toward a sister. I am glad that you told me you loved Walter Wallace. Now we understand each other. I will still like you. I will still be your brother and friend, and, if possible, I will find your lost lover. Good and generous boy! exclaimed Amy, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. I hope you don’t love me as I do Walter. If you do, how miserable you must feel—how unhappy you must be. How I would feel to meet Walter and he should tell me that he liked me but did not love me—that he loved another. But that can’t be. He loves me. I know it? I feel it here! (placing her hand upon her heart.) Amy, said Drake, you are a good generous girl. Few of your sex would have been so honest. I have promised to find your lover if possible. I intend in a short time to go in search of my own parents, and I will then inquire for your friends. But so far you have said nothing to me about your parents that would assist me in finding them. Are you willing to give me a history of them as far as you know? Yes, as far as I know, but I don’t know much about them. I have heard that my grand-father lived in England, and was very rich. That father married mother against his wish. That he gave father his choice to leave and abandon mother, or leave his house. Father refused, and was disinherited. Then father and mother came to this country and settled in Connecticut, not far from Manhattan, until they moved to Callicoon, and that is all I know about it. That will help me, replied Drake. Now that we understand each other and ourselves, let us return to the house. And placing his arm around her, they returned in silence.