After a few hours of dancing, the girl accepted Henry Boyle's invitation to walk out around camp awhile, and together they traversed the small valley. As they passed their own camp-fire, where sat her sister-in-law, Rachel Winthrop, chatting with Aunt Clara, she suddenly wondered where John Stevens had been all the evening.
"Have you seen John, this evening?" she asked Rachel.
"Yes, he has been here, once or twice, getting some cakes and milk for himself and partner, I guess, for he took two plates."
"I thought I was his partner up here," said Diantha, in a somewhat injured tone.
"Haven't you seen him this evening?" queried Aunt Clara Tyler.
"Oh, yes, but I have been dancing so hard, I forgot all about him."
"You may find some day, Dian, that two can play at the forgetting game," said Aunt Clara, with a tenderness that robbed the speech of any bitterness.
"I wish they would," answered the girl indifferently.
Nevertheless her vanity was touched, a few moments after, when she and her companion passed a rustic bower of boughs, twined and twisted into a lovely green retreat, where there was a small camp-fire smouldering in front, and a low couch inside, covered with softest buffalo robes, whereon sat her dearest friend, Ellen Tyler; and stretched out with his long legs to the fire, his arm supporting his head, and his face turned very intently to the young girl near him, was that recreant, John Stevens, who ought just now to be suffering all the torments of a discarded lover.
It was annoying to say the least. Dian acted as if she did not see them at all, and whispered with much animation to her companion, as they passed the light of the fire.