The Silver Butterfly Page 13

  CHAPTER XIII

  Marcia had been causing Hayden much perturbation and unrest by keepinghim very sedulously at a distance. The glimpses he had had of herrecently had been few and far between, and in response to his pleadingsand reproaches, he was informed that her time was tremendously occupiedand that she was absorbed in a picture she was anxious to finish by acertain time. In consequence, he was inordinately delighted to hear hervoice one morning over the telephone--although the reason she gave forcalling him up occasioned his undisguised surprise, for she informed himthat sometime during the day he would receive an informal invitation fromMrs. Ames requesting him to be present at a luncheon she was giving atthe Waldersee the following day.

  "Mrs. Ames! Inviting me!" Hayden uttered rapid fire exclamations. "Well,it is a foregone conclusion that I shall not accept, of course."

  "Please reconsider your decision before you so hastily decline," Marcia'svoice was full of amusement, "please."

  A dreadful suspicion shot through Hayden's mind. Why was Marcia pleadingthe cause of this old woman who had so abominably used her? Had Wilfredreturned to his allegiance?

  Perhaps Marcia divined some of these thoughts, for she added a littlehastily, "It is in reality a luncheon given for Mademoiselle Mariposa,and both she and Wilfred have begged me to be present. It is really forWilfred's sake that I am going. We have so long been good friends, youknow. When I heard you were to be invited, I suspected at once that youwould refuse."

  "I certainly should have done so," interrupted Hayden grimly, "and youknow why."

  "I do know," she said sweetly, "and it's dear of you; but now that youunderstand things you'll accept, won't you?"

  "Of course I shall, if you wish it," he replied with fervor.

  "Thank you, and--and--I shall not be nearly so busy from now on. I havealmost finished my--my--picture."

  The answer, the various answers that Hayden made were of the usual orderand need not be recorded; but her predictions were speedily fulfilled,for within the hour, Mrs. Ames had called him to the telephone and in thenearest approach to dulcet tones which she could compass was urging himto take luncheon with herself and a few friends at the Waldersee on thefollowing day.

  With Marcia in mind, he promptly, even effusively accepted. He was struckby the fact that his prospective hostess had chosen one of the mostconspicuous hotels in the town wherein to entertain her guests instead ofdoing the thing decently and soberly amid the 1850 splendors of herancestral down-town home. Yes, the eccentric old creature had somethingin the wind, beyond question, and his curiosity was but increased when helearned, some hours later, from Kitty Hampton that neither herself, BeaHabersham nor Edith Symmes were bidden to the feast.

  But not long was he left in suspense, for Mrs. Ames herself hastened toallay his curiosity when she met him the next day in one of thereception-rooms of the hotel, where he arrived promptly on the hour shehad mentioned. He looked about him in some surprise, for although therewere several detached people in the room, the rest of her guests, whoeverthey might be, had not yet arrived.

  "I asked you a bit early, Mr. Heywood, Harden,--oh, what is your name?Well, it doesn't matter--Hayden--oh, yes; because there was something Iparticularly wanted to say to you. You see, this is rather an especialoccasion," she settled complacently a row of dull black bracelets setwith great diamonds on her arm. Hayden reflected on her odd passion fordusty gems. "Can you imagine who my guests are and why I have asked themhere?" she lifted her formidable lorgnon and surveyed him through it, hereyes reminding more than ever of those of some fierce, inquisitive bird.

  "Truly, I can not, dear lady," Hayden assured her in all sincerity. "Yousuggest all manner of unexpected and delightful things."

  "My guests," said Mrs. Ames, smoothing her black bombazine impressivelyand detaching a bit of straw from some tangled fringe, "are, to mentionthe men first, Wilfred, Horace Penfield and yourself, and my women guestsare Marcia Oldham and Ydo Carrothers."

  "Really!" was all Hayden could think of to exclaim, and he uttered thatsomewhat feebly.

  "Yes," the old lady nodded her head, all the jet ornaments on her rustyblack bonnet jingling together. "Yes, I've been so nasty about MarciaOldham that I want to make some public reparation." She drew herself upand spoke virtuously; but Hayden doubted the entire sincerity of thestatement. That might be her reason, in part, but he felt convinced ofsome deeper motive. She might feel that she no longer had cause foractive opposition to Marcia; but the girl did not appeal to hertemperament and never could. At best, she could regard a woman of MarciaOldham's type with but tepid interest. "And she's been gracious enough tosay she'd come. At first, she refused point blank, but I got Wilfred topersuade her. He and she have always been good friends. Miss GipsyFortune-teller was also inclined to balk; but she too will be here. Thewild thing!" she chuckled delightedly. "I do hope she'll marry Wilfred.Why, Mr. Hayden, she'd make something of him. Wilfred's not a fool by anymeans; but he's so dreadfully lazy. She'll be whip and spur to him. Whatdo I care for her fortune-telling and all her wild escapades! I like 'em.They make my old blood tingle. There's a girl after my own heart!"

  "Dear me! Who is that?" peering through her glasses. "Maria Sefton and aparty! Good!" She went into a series of cackles that positively made herbones rattle. "Every one in town has heard of Wilfred's infatuation forthe Mariposa by this time, and there is just one question asked: 'Howwill that old witch of a mother of his behave now?'" Again she broke intopeals of her shrill, cackling laughter. "What will they say to this? Lookhow I've fooled them! Marcia on one side of me, the Mariposa on theother! They won't know which it is or why the other dear charmer's here,or what it all means." She wiped away the tears laughter had brought toher eyes. Hayden saw now laid bare her underlying motive in urging Marciato be present. It was really to mystify her world.

  "Ah, Mr. Hampton--Henderson--I can truthfully say that through a longlife, I've never yet done the thing people expect of me."

  "I can well believe that," Hayden assured her. He looked about him, downthrough the vista of the rooms with their differing and garish schemes ofdecoration, at the groups of people moving to and fro, at the wholekaleidoscopic, colorful picture. "Lots of people here to-day," he said.

  "Oh, dear me, yes," replied the old lady. "This is undoubtedly one of thegreat hotels of the world. Everything passes through here sooner orlater, except perhaps, the law of righteousness. Here comes Horace, he'snot bearing it, I am sure. How do you do, Horace?" Penfield, admirablydressed, slim, self-possessed and alert, bent over her hand, and noddedto Hayden.

  "I've just been granted an inspection of the new gown Edith Symmes hasordered for Bea Habersham's ball," he said. "We've been at herdressmaker's and she drove me here on her way home."

  "I thought you looked pale," said Mrs. Ames, viewing him through theinevitable lorgnon. "Go on, tell me all about it."

  "I'm afraid the details are too harrowing," said Horace mildly. "The bodyof the gown--isn't that what you call it--? the ground-work, you know--"

  "Yes--yes, that's all right," nodded Mrs. Ames. "Go on--the body of thegown--"

  "Is of a sort of sickly, mustard-colored satin with chocolate-coloredtrimmings, and wreaths of pink stuff and coral ornaments that look likelobster-claws. Really, it gives you quite a turn just to see it; andthen, she has some kind of a grass-green weeping-willow tree that she isgoing to wear in her hair. Really, the whole thing is pretty shuddery.Haunts you, you can't throw it off." Penfield looked a trifle blue aboutthe mouth and so depressed that Hayden could not help laughing.

  "Edith is going beyond herself," commented Mrs. Ames. "Some one ought tomarry her and reform her. Why not you, Horace?"

  "'She killed a boy, she killed a man, why should she not kill me?'"quoted Horace gloomily.

  "Well, we'll have some luncheon and then you'll feel better," consoledhis hostess. "Here come the girls now."

  Master of facial expression as he was, Horace could no more have helpedhis jaw dropping than he could his
eyes blinking as Marcia and theMariposa, followed by Wilfred Ames, came toward them. Hayden wasparticularly struck by the fact that as the two girls walked down theroom laughing and talking, there was no suggestion in the manner ofeither of their being strangers or even formal acquaintances. There wasthe easy manner of old friendship between them, and he recalled again the"Ydo" that Marcia had inadvertently spoken that day in the Park, andpondered afresh.

  Marcia looked to Hayden's eyes more charming than ever. The slightlystrained expression about the mouth and eyes, which always caused him apang, was to-day quite effaced, and his heart throbbed with pleasure ashe caught the dear little smile that she gave him, and he saw that hereyes were full of a soft and radiant happiness. She wore a white clothown, with an immense black hat, the butterflies and her belovedCalifornia violets, a dewy and deliciously fragrant cluster which Haydenhad sent to her that morning. Ydo in rose color was a brilliant andeffective contrast to her.

  "'As moonlight unto sunlight And as water unto wine,'"

  murmured Penfield who was in the mood for quotation.

  Mrs. Ames arose and settling afresh her hideous row of black bracelets,led the way to the dining-room. She had ordered one of the mostconspicuous tables at an hour when the huge room was sure to be crowded,and she viewed with unabated, even increasing satisfaction the whisperedcomments from the tables where any of her acquaintances were sitting. Shehad created the sensation she desired. Fortune favored her.

  "There are enough here to spread this far and wide," she whisperedcomplacently to Hayden, "and Horace is a host in himself on suchoccasions. One may always trust him to see that the good work goesmerrily on. The dear boy!" there was positive affection in her tone."This will be in every one's mouth before night. It is better to haveHorace for a publicity bureau than to get out an 'extra.'"

  "Look at the forest!" said Ydo quizzically calling Robert's attention tothe tall palms grouped about the room and the exotic, incongruous effectof the long fronds, which should properly have cast their shadows ondesert sands, but now must wave above the white surface of small tablesor be outlined harshly against the red and gold panels of the walls."This is very different from the wilds," she continued. "Hardly savors ofthe simplicity of drinking from the wayside spring and munching a bit ofbread and some fruit as one trudges along. Ah-h-h! That must be soon forme."

  "But Wilfred?" suggested Hayden in a low voice. "What are you going to doabout him?"

  She glanced toward the imperturbable, lazy, blond giant, who sat talkingto Marcia, but always with his eyes fixed on Ydo, content merely to be inher presence. Then she lifted her round chin audaciously, "If I decide tolet him come with me, he will be well content. He hates cities and lovesthe open. He will be an excellent _camerado_, I assure you. But, ifWilfred does not care to go voyaging, voyaging, why, then he shall stay;but for myself, I must onward, away for ever from the old tents."

  She had lifted her voice slightly on the last words and Mrs. Ames lookingtoward her had caught them. "Ah, mademoiselle," she broke in, "wheneveryou begin to talk, I've always got to stop and listen. Not because youutter words of wisdom by any means," she gave a hard little chuckle, "butbecause when you talk, I hear again the voice of youth. It rings in yourtones and smiles in your eyes; it's something as effervescent andsparkling as the bubbles that rise in this wine. You are exactly like thenightingale in the old French fable. Just as irresponsible. You rememberhe sang all summer while the ants toiled unceasingly getting in theirwinter stores, and then when winter came, and he pined with hunger, thethrifty ants said: 'Do you not know that winter follows summer, and thatall roads lead to the desert?'"

  Ydo leaned forward all aggression and animation. "But that is a wickedfable," she cried, "for it tells only one side of the question. It nevertells what the nightingale said to the ants. But I know. He said: 'Pouf!Chut! I have sung my beautiful songs all summer and now you foolish antsthink I am going to starve. Stupid, short-sighted little insects! I shallsimply spread my wings, and fly away, not to the desert either, but tothe bounteous South, and there, under the great, yellow moon, among theilex trees, where the air is heavy with the fragrance of flowers, I shallsing as you have never dreamed I could sing. Adieu!'"

  Mrs. Ames chuckled afresh. "They can't beat you--at any rate."

  "By the way," said Hayden suddenly, "isn't that your secretary at thedoor?"

  Ydo looked up surprised. "Certainly, it is Eunice," she said, "Iwonder--"

  Eunice, mournful and repressed, walked primly down the room in the wakeof a waiter and with a murmured word or two with the Mariposa, handed hera telegram. The latter, still with an expression of perplexity, requestedMrs. Ames' permission to open it, acquainted herself with its contents,and then turned to the secretary at her elbow.

  "That is all right, Eunice. There is no answer." Then she leaned acrossHayden and spoke to Marcia, "Nothing of any importance," with a faintshrug of the shoulders, "I dare say you will get one also. He merely saysthat he will not be home quite so soon as he expected."

  "He!" "He!" Hayden knew a pang of jealousy, like a stab of a stiletto.What "he" was of such interest to Marcia that he should send hertelegrams announcing his return home, or his failure to come? And whyshould this person, whoever he might be, also telegraph Ydo? His thoughtsreverted involuntarily to the gray-haired man "that ordinary, middle-agedperson," who had accompanied her the night she had dined at theGildersleeve, the night that he, Hayden, had returned to her her silverbutterfly. Who was this shadowy creature, a sinister and skulking figurealways in the background? Doubts and fears assailed him. He suffered ahades of suspicion, a momentary and temporary hades--and then, he lookedat Marcia. She was talking across the table to Horace Penfield, andHayden noted the purely drawn oval of her face, the sensitive, delicatemouth, the sweet, wistful eyes, and all the incipient doubts which hadmade such an onrush upon his consciousness vanished, were routed and putto flight, and Marcia looked up to meet his gaze and suddenly, shyly,sweetly blushed. Again the world was his and his heart was flooded withsunshine.

  Mrs. Ames, well-pleased with the notice her party had attracted, wascomplacently arranging her bracelets preparatory to rising, when her eyewas evidently caught by the iridescent sheen of Marcia's butterflies. Sheheld up her glasses, the better to view them.

  "There is no manner of doubt about it, Miss Oldham," she said in a ratherdry and grudging fashion, "that your butterflies are exquisite. I'm ajudge of jewels. I know. What's the reason, Miss Gipsy, that you haven'ta set? Not economy, I warrant."

  Ydo glanced at her from under her eyes, a slow, audacious smile formingabout her lips, "I mean to have a set," she said composedly, "but I wantmine copied from one Mr. Hayden has in his collection."

  Marcia turned surprised eyes on Hayden. "I did not know that you were acollector of butterflies," she said.

  "Oh, he is so modest!" Ydo's laughter rang out like a chime of bells,full of elfin malice. "But I am going to tell you a secret. He is thedistinguished discoverer of a rare and wonderful specimen of almostfabulous value. A specimen which collectors have supposed to be quiteextinct."

  Marcia's eyes were as round as saucers, and Mrs. Ames was surveying herunexpectedly distinguished guest with a respectful surprise of whichRobert would never have dreamed her capable.

  "Why have you never mentioned it to me?" cried Marcia, and there wasreproach in her tone.

  Hayden, annoyed at first, determined to out-match Ydo in her audacity,"But I have," he cried, his eyes alight with fun, "only I called it by adifferent name."

  "A different name!" she puzzled.

  "One of the names in the vernacular," explained Robert with gravemendacity, "is _the_ _cake_! I have often spoken to you, Miss Oldham, of'the cake.' Of course, it has also its imposing Latin name."

  It was Ydo's turn to look puzzled now; the conversation seemed to beslipping away from her into channels that she could not follow. "Truly,"she cried, "I want a string of those lovely butterflies, so I will makeyou an offer, Mr. Hayd
en. I'll buy that butterfly. Name your price."

  "Believe me, mademoiselle, as I have told you before, there is no priceyou could name which would tempt me to sell outright." His jaw lookedvery square and his gray eyes gazed very steadily into her dancing greenones.

  The Mariposa made a little face, a combination of lifted brows andtwisted mouth. "Just so," she said spreading out her hands, "about what Iexpected; but even if you can't be tempted to sell outright, I dare sayyou do not mind showing the photographs?"

  Hayden smiled grimly. "That is ingenuous, senorita. Of course, I have noobjection to showing the photographs--at the proper time."

  Mrs. Ames picked up her gloves and rose. "I don't know what you'retalking about. It's all Greek to me," with her strident cackle, "but thisI do know, Hurlburt--Hammerton--and that is she'll get ahead of you, thisGipsy girl. Never doubt that."

  Marcia had grown slightly paler during the conversation, and now sheturned surprised, almost frightened, yes, frightened eyes from Hayden toYdo.