The Silver Butterfly Part 13

The tone was pleasant, even casual, and yet, Hayden, sensitive, intuitive, had a quick, shocked sense of having blundered egregiously; and worse, he had a further sense of Mrs. Oldham's words being fraught with some ugly and hidden meaning. In her voice there had been manifest an unsuspected quality which had revealed her for the moment as not all frivolous fool or spoiled and empty-headed doll; but a tyrant and oppressor, crueller and more menacing because infinitely weak and unstable.

Marcia did not reply at all to her mother's question, but with her lashes still downcast, continued to b.u.t.ton her gloves; and Hayden stood, miserably uncomfortable for a moment, and then was forced to doubt the correctness of his swift, unpleasant impression; for Mrs. Oldham observed in her usual petulant, inconsequent tones:

"I don't know that I like that necklace with that frock, Marcia. Your turquoises would look better. I do get so tired of always seeing you with some kind of a b.u.t.terfly ornament. You never showed the slightest interest in b.u.t.terflies before your father died, and you don't, in the least, suggest a b.u.t.terfly. I can not understand it."

"Don't try, mother dear," said Marcia. "Good-by." She kissed the orchid and gray lady lightly on the top of the head. "Have a good time with your Hamburg grapes and your last new novel."

She slipped her arms through the long white coat Hayden held for her and, followed by him, left the room.

"Marcia, dear, sweet Marcia," he coaxed, as they whirled through the streets in her electric brougham. "I'm sure, almost dead sure, it's going to be a nice, well-baked, plum-y cake. If it is won't you promise to eat it with me? You know you didn't definitely promise this afternoon, and I never could stand uncertainty."

"No," she said positively, drawing her hand away from his, "I will not. I will never give you a definite answer until you offer me a share in the cake, no matter how it turns out in the baking."

"How can I?" he groaned. "You do not know what sort of a life it would be, the hards.h.i.+ps, the deprivations, the necessarily long separations when I would have to be in some place utterly impossible for you, for months at a time. It's the very abomination of desolation. And fancy your trying to adapt yourself to it! You, used to this!" rapping the electric.

"And this, and this!" touching lightly the ermine on her cloak and the jewels at her throat. "No." He shook his head doggedly. "I won't. I know what it means and you do not. Lovely b.u.t.terfly"--the tenderness of his voice stirred her heart-strings--"do you think that I could bear to see you beaten to earth, your bright wings torn and faded by the cruel storms? Never. But," with one of his quick, mercurial changes of mood, "it's an alternative that we do not have to face. For it's coming out all right in the baking--that cake. The most beautiful cake you ever saw, Marcia, with a rich, brown crust, and more plums than you ever dreamed of in a cake before."

CHAPTER XI

"Bobby," said Kitty Hampton one evening as they sat alone together in her drawing-room, "things are slow, deadly slow. Why do not you do something to amuse your little cousin?"

"My little cousin has far more amus.e.m.e.nt than is good for her as it is,"

returned Hayden. "But while you're mentioning this, let me say that I am anxious to evince some appreciation of all the hospitality you and Mrs.

Habersham and one or two others have shown me; but I don't know just what to do."

Kitty sat up with a marked accession of interest in her expression and att.i.tude. "Dear me! There are quant.i.ties of things you could do," she said. "But, Bobby, do get out of the beaten track; try to think of something original. Of course, it's all nonsense, about feeling under obligation to any one for so-called hospitality, but there is no reason why you should not provide some fun. Now, what shall it be?"

"Anything you say," remarked Hayden amiably. "To tell the truth, Kitty, I've been intending to ask you just what I should do. What can you suggest?"

"It requires thought." Kitty spoke seriously. "But be a.s.sured of this: I'm not going to suggest any of the same old things. If you want something really delightful and have a desire to have us truly enjoy ourselves you must have just a few congenial people. Better make it a dinner, I think. That is it. A dinner at your apartment," catching joyously at this idea, "with some original, clever features."

"I thought whatever it was"--Hayden had reddened perceptibly--"I'd like it to be--a--a--compliment, in a way, to Miss Oldham."

"I do not doubt it." Kitty surveyed him with amused eyes.

"I always think of her in connection with the b.u.t.terflies she wears so much. Would it be a possibility to carry the b.u.t.terfly idea out in some way?" he asked.

Kitty clapped her hands. She was all animation and enthusiasm now. The habitual, sulky-little-boy expression had quite vanished from her face.

"Beautiful! Just the idea! You couldn't have thought of a better one. The b.u.t.terfly lady has had a great fascination for you, hasn't she, Bobby?"

"Which one?" he asked quickly.

"Which one? Hear that!" His cousin apostrophized s.p.a.ce. "Why, I was thinking of Marcia, of course."

He smiled a little and became momentarily lost in reverie, his chin in the palm of his hand, and dreaming thus, Kitty's old French drawing-room and Kitty herself, her blond prettiness accentuated and enhanced by the delicate pinks and blues of her gown, vanished, and Marcia seemed to stand before him all in black and silver as he had seen her recently at a ball, with violets, great purple violets, falling below the s.h.i.+ning b.u.t.terfly on her breast, her sweet and wistful smile curving her lips and her eyes full of light and happiness.

"Bobby, come back!" Kitty touched him petulantly on the arm. "You've been a million miles away, and you looked so selfishly happy that I feel all s.h.i.+very and out in the cold."

"Kitty," he said, "I will confess, when I said, 'Which one?' I was thinking not only of Miss Oldham, but of the other b.u.t.terfly lady--the Mariposa. You know Mariposa means b.u.t.terfly. Well, it is really the Mariposa who fascinates me."

"Bobby! What on earth do you mean?" Kitty's expression was a mixture of Disappointment and indignation.

"Just what I say. The Mariposa fascinates me; but, Kitty," his face softening, "I love the fairy princess with all my heart. I have loved her from the first moment I saw her."

"How dear! I have thought so, hoped so, for some time." Her face was all aglow. "But you frightened me dreadfully, just now. I was afraid you had gone over to Mademoiselle Mariposa like Wilfred Ames. He is crazy about her, simply crazy. I did not know he could be crazy over anything, except the chance of tearing off to some impossible spot to shoot big game."

"Wilfred Ames! Crazy about the Mariposa!" exclaimed Hayden incredulously; and then he paused, remembering that it was but recently that he had met Ames at the door of Ydo's apartment.

"Yes." Kitty was sulky again. "It's true. And I wanted him for Marcia.

But Marcia was stupid about it and always laughed at the idea. Horace Penfield says that he has completely swerved from his allegiance to Marcia. Just fancy how his mother will behave now. Good for her, I say.

But, Bobby, have you told Marcia?"

"Yes. I couldn't help it, Kitty, but it wasn't fair. I had no right to say a word until I know how things are going to turn out with me and that, thank Heaven, will be settled in a day or so." He drew a long sigh.

"Bobby," Kitty was looking at him curiously, and a rather hard abruptness had crept into her tone, "has she, Marcia, told you anything about these?" She touched the b.u.t.terflies clasped about her throat.

"No." He shook his head. "But I believe I have guessed their significance. And it has made me happier than I can tell you. It has made me feel that our interests are one, as if Destiny had intended us for each other."

"I'm sure I don't see why it should," she said shortly, looking at him in a bewildered, disapproving way. "I didn't know you were that kind. It sounds awfully self-seeking. I do not believe you've guessed right." Her face brightened. "That is it. You've got some idea into your head, and it's evidently far from the correct one. You wouldn't be the Bobby I know if it were."

"Then tell me what the correct one is," he coaxed. "If I am on the wrong track, set me on the right one."

"Not I," she returned firmly. "The thing for us to decide is just what sort of a dinner you are going to have. You want some really interesting features. I insist on that."

He threw wide his arms. "I give you carte blanche, here and now, Kitty.

All that I insist on are the b.u.t.terfly effects. Beyond that, I leave everything in your hands; but I must have them."

Kitty's eyes gleamed with pleasure. She loved to manage other people's affairs. "I'll see to them," she affirmed. "Just give me a little time to think them up. What shall we have afterward? Some music?"

"So commonplace," he objected, "and the place is too small."

"Yes-s-s," she reluctantly agreed. "And you don't want very many people.

Just our own especial little group."

"It will have to be small," he warned her. "My quarters do not admit of anything very extensive."

"Whom shall we have?" Mrs. Hampton began to count on her fingers. "The Habershams, and Edith Symmes, and Horace Penfield, and Warren and myself, and Marcia, and Wilfred Ames, and yourself." She paused, a look of dismay overspreading her face. "We'll have to have another woman. Who on earth shall it be?"

"A b.u.t.terfly dinner without the Mariposa would seem like _Hamlet_ with the Prince left out, wouldn't it?" suggested Hayden.

"Oh!" Kitty gasped joyously. "Mademoiselle Mariposa! Do, do, invite her.

What fun! Do you think she will come? You know Marcia knows her, but she will not talk about her ever, because, she says, Mademoiselle Mariposa has requested her not to. So she will not say where and how she met her.

Mean thing! Of course, I've only seen her in her little mask and mantilla. You do not suppose she would wear them to a dinner, do you? I am dying to see her without them. Horace Penfield knows her very well and he says she is very beautiful and deliciously odd. If it enters into her head to do anything she just does it, no matter what it is. And extravagant!" Kitty lifted her eyes and hands at once. "They say that her jewels and frocks are almost unbelievable. Why, one day when she was reading my palm, I noticed that her gown was drawn up a little on one side, and showed her petticoat beneath, with ruffles of Mechlin, real Mechlin on it. Some people say that she is a Spanish princess, or something of the kind--so eccentric that she tells fortunes just for the fun of it. Oh, Bobby, do, do get her."

"When shall we have this dinner?" asked Hayden, with apparent irrelevance.