The Silver Butterfly Read online

  CHAPTER III

  Hayden wasted no time, the next morning, in putting an advertisement inthe "Lost and Found" columns of the various newspapers, signing his fullname and address. Two lagging days passed, and then, just as hope wasbeginning to fade, he received a letter written in the third person,stating with what seemed to him rather cruel succinctness, that if Mr.Robert Hayden could find it convenient to be at the restaurant of theGildersleeve Hotel that evening, the owner of the ornament described inhis advertisement, namely a silver butterfly, would be there dining alonebetween the hours of eight and nine and would thus be able to receive herproperty in person.

  With a vague feeling of disappointment through all his elation, Haydenturned the note over in his hand. At the head of the page was embossed asilver butterfly, but beyond this clue there was nothing to indicate thelady's identity; no name, no address. Again he read the brief wordswritten in a clear, upright hand, which so plainly showed strength ofcharacter and unusual self-control, but gained no new light.

  What an odd happening! He felt indefinably chilled. Why this appointmentfor a meeting at one of the large hotels? Curious. Why this mystery,anyway, he thought irritably; why this excess of mystery? And yet, afterall, he was forced to confess to his inmost soul that, mystery though itwas, he did not find it any the less delightful for that, rather the moreso.

  He had never known so slow a day. The minutes lagged unaccountably, thehours crawled forward at the most snail-like pace, and his impatience atthis was tempered to a satirical amusement by the fact that the entireworld of his friends seemed banded together in a conspiracy to engage hissociety for that particular evening.

  He had, as night drew on, a breathless and excited sense of eluding andescaping them, and dressed with the emotions of the criminal who realizesthat the sleuths are hard upon his trail. It is unnecessary to say thathe was early at the Gildersleeve, and managed to secure a table whichcommanded a view of the entire room. He had an hour and a half beforeeight o'clock, and he put as much of it in as possible in ordering acarefully chosen dinner, taking an incredible time over it, for, as thefever of his anticipation ran high, his manner became the more cool andleisurely, a temperamental trait of his.

  He ate his soup as slowly as possible, and glanced about at the tablesnow rapidly filling up with all the laughing groups of men and women whowould be going on to the theater and the opera a little later. The musicwas charmingly subdued; a whiff of fragrance from the flowers on histable reached him. He liked the atmosphere of this hotel, quiet, restful,and handsome after a restrained and sober fashion; and then, all at once,the surroundings, the groups at the tables, the waiters passing to andfro, the appealing music, the noise and hum of conversation lost life andmotion and color, and became the mere tapestry against which she alonemoved.

  It was about half-after seven when the vigilant eye which Hayden had keptso persistently on the door was rewarded; but to his disappointment, shewas not alone, but was accompanied by an elderly, gray-haired man.However, his spirit was somewhat restored by the fact that they took atable immediately within the line of his vision. She wore black to-night,gauzy and diaphanous black. A small black toque with some upstandingsilver trimming rested on her hair, and the silver butterfly on herbreast seemed to flutter its delicate, shining wings; but depending fromit almost to her waist and encircling her neck, was an exquisite chain ofsmall, enameled butterflies. They were in all shades of yellow andorange, with touches of black, and were held together by tiny, jeweledlinks. Butterflies, more butterflies! Could it be? Was it a possibility?Hayden cautioned himself lest his imagination ran away with him.

  He could not fail to notice that here, as at the opera, she was again anobject of interest. Every one in the room seemed to be either openly orfurtively gazing at her. In this, he reflected, there was nothing verypeculiar, as her beauty, which was sufficiently marked to compel interestanywhere, was not more noticeable than the unique and remarkablybeautiful ornaments she was wearing.

  The man with her, unobtrusive and gray enough in all conscience to escapeany attention whatever, yet made a peculiar impression on Hayden. As hesat, apparently ordering dinner in haste, with his watch in his hand, soto speak, Hayden was struck by the deference he displayed to the lady heaccompanied, and the lack of ease in his manner. He was like a man whohad been unwittingly drawn into a situation which rendered him extremelyuncomfortable, and he was distinctly not of her world. On the other hand,the lady of the silver butterfly, as Hayden was forced to call her, inlieu of any other name, exhibited her usual calm, unruffled composure.

  Hayden could not notice, watch her as closely as he would, that sheshowed even curiosity as to whether or not he was in the room. Not oncedid he succeed in surprising the smallest glance in his direction.Instead, for the most part, she talked earnestly to the man opposite, whohad evidently ordered his dinner of dishes ready to be served, and washastily consuming them, while she had given more time to her order, anddid not really begin her dinner until her vis-a-vis had disposed of his.Then, with a final and hasty glance at his watch, the gray and elderlyman arose, bowed awkwardly and formally to her and left the room.

  The first course of the lady's dinner had just been placed before her,and Hayden could not fail to admire the way in which she bore herself.Although, as at the opera, she must have been conscious of the manyadmiring eyes cast in her direction, she gave no evidence of it, and hewas almost equally piqued by the fact that she manifested no apparentinterest in his presence. Not once did she turn her head toward the door,not once did she incline her eyes in his direction.

  She had just finished her soup when, the clock indicating one minute ofeight, Hayden took a last sip of his black coffee, the last whiff of hiscigarette, and walked down the room toward her. As he reached her tableand stood before her, she looked up with a charming smile, which yet helda touch of shyness, an embarrassment she struggled to conceal, and noddedtoward the chair so recently vacated by her elderly companion. To hissurprise, Hayden saw that she was younger than he had at first thoughther, and wondered afresh at her apparent isolation.

  "Won't you sit there, please? You are very prompt. It is just eighto'clock."

  He seated himself opposite her. "A proof of my desire to escape theresponsibility of your ornament," he replied, taking from his pocket thebox enclosing the silver butterfly and holding it out toward her.

  "Oh, thank you." She laid it on the table beside her without opening it."It is extremely good of you to forgo any engagement you may have hadmerely to return this to me with your own hands." But although her wordsshowed composure, her voice, the color that came and went, exhibited anagitation she could not wholly overcome.

  "Good! Not at all," he returned. "There may have been several reasonswhich would make me wish to deliver the buckle to you in person--itsbeauty and value for one thing; but to be perfectly frank, let me confessthat there was one overmastering reason, that my interest in this matterhas been enormously increased by one of the most potent of factors; afactor that might be called the greatest stimulant in the world to even atepid interest."

  She looked up at him with surprise, even, he fancied, a slight alarm."What can you possibly mean?" she asked coldly.

  He had leaned his arms upon the table, and now he smiled up at her like amischievous, cheeky school-boy. Even the most prejudiced person could butacknowledge that Hayden had a most delightful smile.

  "Mystery," he replied.

  Her eyelashes lay on her cheek, long, black eyelashes on a cheek ofcream, with the faintest, the very faintest stain of carnation. She wasdrawing designs on the tablecloth with her fork. She started slightly,but if she felt any perturbation of spirit, she gave no sign further ofit, and yet Hayden knew intuitively that he had said just the thing heshould have been most careful to avoid.

  "Ah, yes," she said at last slowly. "I dare say it does look like that. Idid not think of it in that way. I'm afraid I was thinking only ofexpediency."

  "And expediency to you apparentl
y spells mystery to me," he said.

  She made an impatient gesture. It struck him now that she was reallyannoyed. "I can not help it if you see it that way." She strove to makeher voice icy.

  "Wouldn't any one?" he persisted.

  "Perhaps." She appeared to waver.

  "You must admit," he continued, perversely pursuing the subject, "thatyou are rather mysterious yourself. Why, you appeared so suddenly andnoiselessly beside me at the opera the other night--"

  "My mother was to meet me there," she interrupted him, "but shedisappointed me."

  "And then as suddenly and noiselessly you disappeared, that truly, if Ihad not found the buckle of your shoe, I should never afterward have beensuccessful in assuring myself that you had really been there."

  She looked at him now with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes, and heexperienced a quick sense of delight that violet eyes could be merry.

  "Perhaps I was not really there at all," she laughed. It was evident thatshe had thrown aside the distrust and distress of a few moments before."Listen"--leaning forward and speaking with more animation and assurancethan she had yet shown--"I will construct a romance for you, a romance ofmystery, since you seem determined to have mystery. Can you not fancy awoman, young, eager, interested in all sorts of things, and shut off fromthem all, living somewhere in the depths of the woods and consumed withlonging for the intense and changing life of the city, whose variedphases only seem the more vivid and interesting when heightened bydistance; and she dreams of this--this lonely girl--until her longingbecomes so great and so vast and overmastering that her thought goesslipping away--away from the gloomy woods to enjoy stolen, brief, brightglimpses of the world? Is that beyond your imagination?"

  "It is not at all beyond my imagination," he said modestly, "but if youare trying to impress upon me the fact that you are no more real than myfancy has once or twice suggested, it brings up a nice moral question. AmI justified in handing over to a chilly ghost a valuable and beautifulornament belonging to some one else?"

  She laughed outright, frankly amused. "That is a question you will haveto decide for yourself," she said demurely. "You can't expect me to helpyou."

  "Very well," he replied with equal promptitude. "I refuse any furtherresponsibility and leave it entirely to your conscience."

  "Are you--do you live in New York?" The carnation deepened slightly inher cheek at this personal question.

  "I was born here," he replied. "I've lived here all my life that Ihaven't been away from it." They both burst out laughing at this proof ofhis ancestry.

  "Let's talk on the two most interesting subjects in the world," he said,leaning forward as if struck by a sudden inspiration, "yourself andmyself. I will begin at the beginning and tell you everything I know orhave ever heard about myself and then you do the same."

  "But no one ever knows when to stop when he or she begins to talk abouthimself or herself," she objected, and again the shyness crept into hervoice. "You would occupy a thousand and one nights in the recital, andyou have only"--she glanced at a tiny watch--"you have only ten minutes."

  "Must Cinderella leave the ball exactly on the stroke of nine?"

  "Certainly. Her pumpkin coach awaits her at that hour, and you know whathappens to the pumpkin coach and the coachman and footmen if she keepsthem waiting a minute overtime."

  He sighed. "Well, I see that I must be dreadfully brief in what I have tosay; and this is it. I have asked no reward for returning you yourtrinket, have I? But that does not absolve you from the courtesy ofoffering one; now, it seems to me that it is not at all amiss, in fact itis quite fitting, that I should dictate the terms of it. I am sure thatthis attitude of mine appeals, if not to your generosity, to your senseof justice," He paused politely.

  "I can at least see the position I put myself in if I decline to admitit," she parried.

  "Oh, I am sure of your position," he assured her. "I take that forgranted. No one with a spark of kindly feeling could look at this matterexcept in one way. Now, you must admit that I have behaved beautifully. Ihave made no attempt to surprise your reticence, or even to discover yourname. Truly, I haven't made the faintest effort to entrap you into anyrevelations, have I? Now, I am sure that we must know quantities of thesame people, and all I ask is that you mention some of your engagementsto me for the coming fortnight. Suppose, for instance, you were to say:'I am going to be at the Goddards to-morrow afternoon about five.Wednesday, I am to dine at the Symmeses. Thursday, at the Hamptons.'"

  Did she give a little start, or was it his fancy? At any rate shefollowed him with unmistakable interest, and when he had finished sheleaned back in her chair with a ripple of low laughter.

  "I do not believe we will begin that," she said. "It's like a game and wecould go on indefinitely mentioning names on the strength of finding amutual acquaintance. No, I am something of a fatalist. I think I will letevents take their course. If we are to meet again, why, we are. If not,why, all our poor efforts can not compass it. Ah, it is nine o'clock, onthe very stroke! Good night." She smiled graciously, charmingly. "Andthank you again for so kindly restoring my property."

  It was a very distinct dismissal. Hayden rose at once. "But," heprotested before he took a step to depart, "you can not leave me thisway. The only way I can think of you is as 'The Lady with theButterflies,' and it is too cumbersome a title. It sounds like the nameof a picture. It is such a catalogue-y title."

  "It is really," she agreed with him. "There is no doubt about it. I amsorry," demurely, black lashes again on cheeks of cream, no, carnation.She did not mention her name and Hayden's face fell.

  "I wonder if you know my cousin, Kitty Hampton," he said at a venture.

  "My pumpkin coach!" she exclaimed, moving toward the door.

  "But my reward!" he cried. "I refuse to let you go without bestowing it.It is not honest."

  She sighed and she smiled, she flushed and wavered. "Then take thisassurance," she said, as one driven to a corner. "Believe me when I tellyou that when you wish to see me I shall not be hard to find. I havereason to think that you will find it very easy."