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.