Hayden's feeling of intense relief at Penfield's departure was succeeded
by an almost numb dejection. The revelations of Horace in regard to
Marcia and the photographs had, to his own horror, occasioned no surprise
in him, and the rest of Penfield's news had sunk into insignificance
beside this confirmation of his suspicions which lay like lead on his
heart and which he had refused to confess even to himself. He seemed to
have known it all the time, to have known it from the moment the
photographs had disappeared. He had no feeling of anger toward her, no
blame for her, it went too deep for that.
It was a gray afternoon, and as it wore on toward evening now and again a
flurry of snow blew whitely from the sullen skies, and the leaping flame
of the fire which had put to rout any lurking shadows was now in turn
defied by them.
"A lady to see you, sir." Tatsu stood at Hayden's elbow.
"A lady to see me? Here?" Hayden roused from his apathy to exclaim.
"Yes, sir."
But before he could make further explanation, or Hayden could give orders
either to ask the lady to enter or to beg that she excuse him, there was
a soft, hesitant footfall, the delicate feminine rustle of trailing
skirts, the faint delicious fragrance of violets, and he sprang to his
feet, his heart pounding. In some mysterious uncannily skilful manner,
Tatsu vanished.
Marcia was very white, her long, dark gown fell about her, her face
gleamed pale as a lily, wistful as regret, from the shadow of her large
black hat.
"Mr. Hayden, Bobby." She made a step toward him. "Why, how tired you
look! You are ill!" she broke off to cry, deep notes of tenderness and
solicitude in her voice.
"I am a little tired," he said, with an effort. "But you, too, look pale.
Do not stand. Come near the fire. Lay aside your furs. I will have some
hot tea brought."
She allowed him to lead her to a chair, her eyes fixed still upon his
face. "Something has worried you, is bothering you still. Isn't it so?"
He dismissed the question. "You must believe me," he said, "when I assure
you that I am quite well, and that everything is all right."
She was still standing, and now she turned to him and laid her hand upon
his sleeve. There was an intensity, almost a wildness in her expression.
"Ah," she cried, "you have missed the photographs. I was afraid of that,
but I couldn't get here sooner. I telephoned twice, but I could not reach
you. You know that I could not have dreamed of coming here, here to your
apartment except for the most urgent of reasons. Bobby"--she burst into
tears and clung to his arm--"it was I--I who stole your papers and
photographs."
"My dear," bending above her, "do not say such things." His voice
trembled. "If you borrowed my photographs you did it for some good
reason, for cause which seemed right and proper to you. That is enough
for me."
"Oh, Robert, Robert!" She was weeping now, her whole figure shaken with
sobs. "Your goodness, your sweetness overwhelms me. It is more than I can
bear. But, Bobby, you mustn't believe the worst things of me. I didn't
take them from the motives you may attribute to me."
"Dear Marcia," he said soothingly, "do not talk of motives. Whatever your
motives were, they were right. But you are going to tell me no more now.
You are going to sit down here and have a cup of tea, and rest quietly a
few moments before you attempt to tell me anything more. Here, you must
lay aside those heavy wraps."
He took her furs, he begged her to remove her hat, then occupied himself
for a moment in fussing over the fire and giving orders for hot tea, and
was rewarded presently by seeing that the color had returned to her lips
and cheeks, and that the frightened, strained expression had faded from
her eyes.
"There," he said, after Tatsu had brought in the tea things, and he had
poured some for her. "Two lumps of sugar, one slice of lemon. You see, I
remember your tastes."
She smiled gratefully at him. "Please, may I tell you all about it now?"
she asked.
His face fell again into the lines of dejection. In spite of the
cheerfulness he had forced himself to assume, and in spite of the
compassion he felt for her weakness, he would have postponed for ever
this confession which must condemn her.
"Why," he asked, "why not bury the incident in a wise oblivion, and never
mention it again? Indeed, indeed, it is better so. One of the best
mottoes in the world is, 'Never explain.'"
His lips smiled, but his eyes pleaded, and his heart passionately
protested:
Must we lose our Eden,
Eve and I?
[Illustration]
Her languor and weariness disappeared in a moment; she drew herself up
now, the pose of her head haughty, her eyes chill. "Never explain?" she
repeated. "It is, as you say, an excellent motto--for those who are best
assisted by a wise silence. But I assure you I am not trying to gain your
pity, or tolerance or forgiveness. I took your photographs and maps
yesterday evening and acted probably on incorrect reasoning and mistaken
impulse, but I should do exactly the same thing again under the same
circumstances; and now, I insist upon your listening to those
circumstances."
She laid aside her cup and with the scarlet still glowing on her cheek
began:
"Yesterday morning I received word from Mr. Carrothers that a man who had
all the charts and photographs of The Veiled Mariposa had been
discovered, and that that man was you. You may imagine my sensations. At
first, I could not grasp it, it seemed too inconceivable and incredible
to be true, and then, as the facts of the case were given me and I was
able to realize it, to take it in, why--I was overcome with joy. Ah,
B---- Mr. Hayden, no one was ever so happy as I yesterday morning. Your
words of a week ago, the afternoon that we had walked in the Park, came
back to me. Your mysterious allusions to the good fortune which was
almost within your grasp--and this was it! And to think that I--I should
be one of the owners of the property! Why, it was like a fairy-story."
"And are you really one of the owners?" he interrupted her to cry.
"Indeed, yes. But let me go on. I was also told that your information
would be in our hands within twenty-four hours, and then, I learned that
Ydo was conducting the negotiations. That was the rift within the lute. I
immediately became frightened. I did not know what it meant. What I did
know was that Ydo stops at nothing to gain her ends. And of course, she,
being interested, too--"
"How is she interested?" he interrupted again. "I have not discovered
that."
"I will explain later. I want to go on with this part of my story now.
But, as I say, knowing Ydo, her daring, her indifference to anything but
her own game, her powers of resource--"
"Oh, come, you are unjust to her," he exclaimed, forgetful of his own
base suspicions.
"Oh, I know it, but believe me, I am not"--again her head was haughtily
lifted--"I am not trying to gain your sympathy by criticizing her; I am
merely trying to make you understand the case as it appeared to me. As I
say, I was frightened. It was all my own superstition. Indeed, I know
that it was; but I got in a panic, and could not reason clearly. No," as
he strove to take her hand, "please wait. And then, last night when
Horace Penfield asked you to show the photographs I saw a confirmation of
my fears, and when Ydo entered I was still more frightened. I suspected
an arrangement, a plot between them. There were the photographs and maps
on that little table where you had carelessly thrown them; any one could
take them; and then when Ydo was going through her nonsense over that
glass ball and had every one's attention fixed on her Horace crept around
and stood so near the table that I was sure he was going to seize them,
so I took them myself. I twisted the gauze scarf which was about my neck
around them and carried them out that way. No one noticed. And here they
are." She lifted the package from her muff, still wrapped in the scarf,
and held it out to him. "No one has even glanced at them; not even
myself."
"And you did this to save me! Oh, Marcia, Marcia!" He was more moved than
he could express.
"Wait!" She lifted her hand imperatively. "I haven't finished. There are
lots of things to tell you yet."
"Postpone them!" he cried ardently. "Forget them until to-morrow! Ah,
dearest, you are tired. You have borne too much strain already."
"No, no!" she cried. "It grows late, and I must, must tell you these
things before I leave you."
"Leave me!" he cried. "Try it. When you go I go with you."
They both laughed. "But listen, Bobby," she pleaded; and at that "Bobby"
his heart glowed, he was surely forgiven. "Don't you want to know how I
happened to be the largest owner of the vast Mariposa estate?"
"Oh, indeed I do!" he said. "Are you the largest owner?"
"Yes," she nodded. "You see, at the height of his prosperity, my father
bought it from a Mr. Willoughby, whose wife inherited it. No one knew it,
but even at that time my father's mind was affected, and before long his
disease, a softening of the brain, had fully manifested itself. His
greatest interest in life had always been business, and after this change
came upon him he got all kinds of strange ideas in his head, among them a
perfect mania for destroying papers. It is principally for that reason,"
with a slight shrug of her shoulders, "that we were left almost
penniless. But he had a head clerk, a Mr. Carrothers, Ydo's father, by
the way, who saw how things were going, and who, by various ruses,
succeeded in saving some of the papers, among them those relating to the
Mariposa estate. These were intact.
"After my father's death, as you have probably heard, there was
practically nothing left, nothing for my mother and myself to live on. So
I decided to go into business. I am," with a little smile, "both a
designer and manufacturer of quaint jewelry, ornaments and things; but
there wasn't any money. But Mr. Carrothers, who had more or less, was
crazy about the Mariposa property. He had looked up the history of the
Willoughbys and found that everything that Mr. Willoughby claimed was
true, and he wanted an interest in the estate, so he offered to finance
my little venture if I would give him a third interest in the property.
"I was glad enough to do so, and he and I went into partnership. It has
been a success. We have made money, but it left little time for anything
else. Nevertheless, Mr. Carrothers has never lost his enthusiasm in
regard to The Veiled Mariposa, and that has kept up my flagging interest.
We have not been idle about it either; but have kept prospectors down
there almost all the time. Ydo went over the ground two or three years
ago. But this year, we had decided to make a special effort. We were to
send down some great expert and a seasoned old prospector or two who
could positively smell ore on the rocks.
"I sent out my little messages in the shape of the jeweled butterflies,
and Ydo, who had not been in this country for several years, decided to
tell fortunes under the name of The Veiled Mariposa, and to carry out the
idea in her disguise. It was a clever idea because she could advertise,
and any one who had anything to communicate about the mine would
naturally connect her with it and seek her out. And sure enough, this has
proved our lucky year, for you, you discovered it--The Veiled Mariposa."
She smiled happily at him.
"To lay it at your feet." He caught her hands and drew her up from her
chair. "Ah, Queen of Eldorado, will you take it with my poor heart?"
They were both laughing; but it was laughter that trembled on the verge
of tears. "Sweetheart," she murmured, her arms about his neck, her face
hidden on his shoulder, "my mine, my butterflies and my heart are yours
for ever."
"Ah!" He held her so closely that the violets, crushed upon her breast,
protested in wafts of fragrance.
"There are more things I want to tell you," she murmured.
"You will do nothing of the kind, O Scheherazade! Not, at least, until
you have had something to eat. Ah, we will go to the Gildersleeve, where
we first met, or at least first talked. Come, your hat and wraps, no
delay."
He assisted her into her long cloak, and laid her furs about her
shoulders.
"How can I pin on my hat," she asked desperately, "when you--"
"Yes? When I?" he said encouragingly. "Why are you blushing?"
"Nobody can properly pin on a hat when some one is kissing her," she
protested.
"I am from Missouri," he replied. "You must show me. In other words, I
doubt the assertion. Now, to prove it, you try to pin on your hat and I
will endeavor to kiss you at the same time."
"You will do nothing of the kind," she insisted. "You will go and stand
on the other side of the room. Ah--"
There was no room for further argument, the door was thrown open and Ydo,
brilliant, laughing, gorgeous as a tropical flower, entered. Behind her
loomed Wilfred Ames with all the radiance it was possible for his
stolidity to express.
"Here!" cried Ydo, the music of her laughter filling the room as her eyes
fell on Marcia. "Ah, I knew it! What did I tell you?" turning to Hayden.
"What do you mean?" cried Marcia, startled, flushing.
"I mean this," laughed Ydo. "That he," pointing to Hayden, "came to me
about noon, frantic over the disappearance of his claims on Eldorado.
After he had explained the circumstances to me I knew in a minute that
thou wert the woman. I didn't have to gaze into my crystal or run the
cards to see that. But why, why? I knew that you didn't take them
for--well, reasons that others might have taken them for; but why take
them at all?"
There was no gainsaying Ydo. "Because I thought some one else would take
them if I didn't," faltered Marcia.
"Meaning me!" Ydo's laughter seemed merciless to Marcia's shrinking ears.
"I don't mind the implication. But Wilfred, Bobby, to fancy I would do
anything so clumsy! Who says that women are not cruel to women?"
"Ydo, forgive me," pleaded Marcia, "I am humiliated, ashamed." Her voice
trembled.
Ydo's green eyes twinkled upon her. "Oh, la! la!" with a friendly,
careless little push. "Sweet, dainty lady of the butterflies, I have
nothing to forgive. I comprehend you, and he who understands all forgives
all. It is simply that you do not understand me. Shall the violet
understand the orchid? It is not a thing to think of again, so forget it
for ever.
"And speaking of orchids, Mr. Hayden, may I have a few to wear to-night
from that vase yonder? They will just suit my gown."
She moved with him across the room, leaving Marcia and Ames standing
together; but she did not stretch out her hand to take the orchids he
offered, but stood looking at him with her dazzling smile, sweetened,
softened with some touch of feeling so deep and yet so evanescent that he
could not fathom it.
"Little brother of the wilds, now that you have won Cinderella and
Eldorado, as I predicted, I wish you a divine unrest. It is the best I
Can hope for you. Eldorado and domesticity mean the fishy eye, the heavy
jowl, and the expanded waistcoat; and remember that although the red gods
may be silent so long that you will forget them, yet there will come a
day when they will call and you will hear nothing else. Then, as you
would keep your happiness, get up and follow--follow 'to the camp of
proved desire and known delight.'"
"Advice from one about to settle down--don't settle." He strove to speak
lightly, but failed.
"I settle! Don't harbor any such vagaries. We may meet again, oh, I don't
mean in this sort of a way, I mean where the open road winds on like a
great river, and the pines go marching up and down hill, and the blue
smoke of the tent-fires curls up to the morning skies. We may meet again,
Bobby, on the outward trail that leads from Eldorado to Arcady."
She swept across the room, pausing to kiss Marcia lightly on the cheek as
she passed her. "Come, Wilfred," she cried. "We are _de trop_. Let us see
how quickly we can vanish."
The door closed behind them, but the room still held the faint echo of
her laughter, the lingering breath of evasive and enchanting perfume.
Marcia had thrown her furs about her shoulders and now she picked up her
muff. It fell to the floor, unheeded, as Hayden caught her hands in his.
"What was Ydo saying to you?" she asked.
"She was giving me some geographical information about the relative
situations of Eldorado and Arcady, and condemning the former as a health
resort."
"Bobby! You're fooling! I can tell by your eyes."
"But her knowledge is incorrect," he announced triumphantly. "For
instance, she is not even aware that the towers and treasures of Eldorado
lie in the very heart of Arcady, and that we will dwell there for ever
and a day, my adored lady of the Silver Butterfly."
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Silver Butterfly, by Mrs. Wilson Woodrow