"Wear this for me."
The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than
gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served
on Miss Hetty's pretty china.
Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with
frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were
very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was
the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a
disposition to laugh at the jokes.
It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one
remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her
on her favorite topic of the cream-jug and sugar-dish that exactly
matched her teapot and should have been hers.
This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and
the will.
"My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters," Miss Betty
explained, "and when their father and mother died the family silver was
divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of
the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's
sister."
"Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?" asked Rosalind.
"Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your
relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was
Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge."
"Rosalind looks puzzled," said Belle, laughing.
Rosalind laughed too. "I never knew about relations before. Does father
know all this?"
"I should hope so; this is not much to know."
"Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind
would like to hear it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?" asked Belle.
Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around
the table, remarked, "I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to
have me, and Jack will sit up."
"Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does," Belle
suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire
suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling.
"As some of you know," Miss Betty began, "the ring belonged to Miss
Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your
great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far
from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are
spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were
beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia
Gilpin was a really beautiful woman."
"Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring," said Charlotte.
"It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was
engaged was killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a
short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made
for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death
at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this
for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and
she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly
admired; but she never forgot her lover."
"Did she live in Friendship?" Rosalind asked.
"During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old
Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic
summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's
arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion,
seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the
arbor, looking out upon the river.
"It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be
only a story.
"After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited
Cousin Anne in the old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and
hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately
and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had
borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say
more than that for anybody."
"That is what Cousin Louis says," remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice.
"But you haven't told us what the ring was like," put in Charlotte.
"I never could tell a straight story," replied Miss Betty, laughing.
"Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and
beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire
of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of
little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin
Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never
wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I
have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will;
but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It
was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve,
Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of
them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she
hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody."
"Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?" asked Jack.
"Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and
Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the
Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is," she
explained; adding, "As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went
to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money
was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be
sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children,
except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The
first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair."
"To Uncle Allan?" asked Rosalind, greatly interested.
"Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an
inventory, the ring was not to be found."
"And they haven't the least idea what became of it," remarked Maurice.
"I think it was stolen," said Miss Betty, "although I acknowledge there is
something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of
heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair
before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had
left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in
this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at
once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be
found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have
been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed
the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness
entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring
was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value
in the safe, which were not disturbed."
"Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?" Charlotte
asked Rosalind.
"In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of
his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I
hardly think he had Rosalind in mind," Miss Betty said, smiling.
"Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!"
"Like a story, isn't it?" said Belle.
"Have they looked everywhere for it?" continued Rosalind.
"Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect."
The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that
went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin
came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not
feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a
few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very
bright indeed.
Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall.
"Have you had a pleasant time?" Mrs. Whittredge asked.
"A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty--I
mean Cousin Betty--told us about the lost ring and--was she my
aunt?--Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?"
"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She
died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to
resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood."
Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half
reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark
leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair.
"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said.
Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is
that?"
"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble
her," her mother replied.
Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although
she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said.
"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that
Miss Patricia--Aunt Patricia--looked as if she didn't care about anything.
She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do
that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her
dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it
to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered.