d as if it were something he
loved to say. I have wondered whether he once cared a great deal for
some one whose name was Rose.--What do you think, Hugh? and she died,
and that is why he has never married. There! I have never spoken of this
before, not even to Peggy. Don't tell any one, will you?"

She looked anxiously in her cousin's face, and met the grave, sweet look
that always made her feel safe and quiet; she did not know how else to
express it.

"Tell any one? No indeed, my dear little cousin. It is a young girl's
fancy, and a very sweet and graceful one."

"Then you don't think it may be true?" asked Margaret, disappointed.

"Certainly it may be true; I should think it highly probable that
something of the sort had happened, to keep a man like Uncle John single
all his days; but--well, I don't see that anything can be done about it
now, do you?"

"Hugh, I am afraid you are practical, after all!" said Margaret. "And I
was hoping you would turn out romantic."

Hugh only laughed, and asked her if she had chosen all the silver she
wanted. This question put a stop at once to Margaret's romantic visions.
Enough? but, she had only just begun, she said. Did he think she was
going to take one pitcher and leave all the rest of these enchanting
treasures?

"And we have not explored the boxes yet!" she cried. "See, they all
have dear little ivory labels. Do reach me down that fat square box,
please! 'Col. Montfort's Tankard, 1814.' Oh, that was our
great-great-grandfather, Hugh! Do let us open this!"

The black leathern box, being opened, revealed a stately glass-bottomed
tankard, with a dragon's curling tail for a handle. On the front was an
inscription, "Presented to Col. Peter Montfort, in token of respect and
affection, by the officers of his mess, July, 1814."

"His portrait is up in the long gallery," said Margaret. "Don't you
remember, with the high ruffled stock? I don't see how he could speak,
with his chin so very high in the air. Now I must have that oval green
case; I am sure that is something interesting. 'General Washington's
Gift.' Oh, Hugh!"

This time Hugh was as much interested as she, and both bent eagerly over
the box as Margaret opened it. The case was of faded green morocco,
lined with crimson satin. Within was an oval cup or bowl, of exquisite
workmanship; it was what is called a loving-cup, and Margaret looked in
vain for an inscription.

"There must be one!" said Hugh. "_Papa Patriae_