"What is so awfully funny?" inquired Hayden politely, but with an irritation he could not conceal. "I a.s.sure you, it does not seem funny to me."

Ydo had evidently recovered her spirits; the sparkle had come back to her eyes, the color to her cheeks. "Don't bother any more," she counseled blithely. "It's all going to turn out right now. You see."

"I should prefer to know how." Hayden's irritation was increasing instead of diminishing, and he spoke more stiffly than before. "As it is a matter which concerns me primarily and which has caused me much worry I think it only fair that you should share with me the knowledge which seems to justify you in drawing such happy conclusions."

Hayden would never again be nearer losing his temper completely than he was at this moment, for Ydo, after gazing at him for a moment with a sort of whimsical, mock seriousness, again broke into laughter. "Who would ever have dreamed of her doing such a thing?" she apostrophized the ceiling.

"Her!" Hayden felt as if his heart had stopped beating for a moment and then begun again with slow and suffocating throbs. Perhaps Ydo saw or guessed something of his emotion, for she again repeated rea.s.suringly: "It will be all right now within a few hours. You Will see."

"It's going to be dropped," he said in a dull, toneless voice. "It's my affair, Mademoiselle Mariposa, and you are not going to make the least move in the matter. Your suspicions--whichever one of my guests they affect, and I can not even surmise which one you are trying to implicate--are quite beside the mark. This is entirely my own affair, and I tell you, we are going to drop it. Do you hear?"

Ydo leaned forward, her chin upon her hand, and surveyed him with a humorous, unabashed and admiring scrutiny. "Brother in kind if not in kin, little brother of the wild, you are great. But do you mean what you say? Are you really willing to run the chance of giving up a fortune to protect--"

"Nonsense!" he broke in roughly. "Don't go any further. There's no use in talking the thing over." He again sank into somber silence.

But Ydo was apparently unmoved. "There is one thing I meant to ask you this afternoon," she said, "but since I shall probably not have an opportunity to do so I want my curiosity appeased. Why is that mine called The Veiled Mariposa? Did you happen to find out?"

"Yes," he answered, still entirely without interest. "Because, as the maps and photographs show, the only way to reach it is by a little hidden trail just back of a waterfall. You would never suspect it. I happened on it by the merest chance, followed it, and discovered that the mine lay behind this mountain cascade."

"Ah, beautiful!" Ydo clapped her hands. "I remember, I am sure, the very cascade. Although perhaps not, there were many."

"You have been on the ground then?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, with prospectors. But," with a shrug of the shoulders, "we were not so lucky as you."

"The interview for the afternoon is of course off," he said, rising heavily and stretching out his hand for his hat.

"I suppose so," conceded Ydo. She smiled and sighed. "The pretty little coup I had planned is smashed. I have been arranging it for weeks, ever since I learned that you were interested in--But the G.o.ds have decreed it differently and have taken the matter into their own hands. Ah, well!

But I shall hear again from you to-day; and you will hear from me."

CHAPTER XVII

Hayden was half ill when he left Ydo's apartment. He felt a curious stifling sensation, a longing for air and motion and so strong was this feeling that he decided to dismiss the motor and walk home; but he had proceeded only a block or so, when he noticed an electric brougham draw up to the sidewalk. His heart gave a quick throb for he saw that Marcia's chauffeur was driving; but a moment later, his hopes were turned to disappointment, for instead of Marcia's dear face, the somewhat worn and worried countenance of her mother gazed out.

The moment she caught a glimpse of him, she brightened perceptibly and with a quick motion summoned him. Almost mechanically he made his way across the crowded sidewalk and took the hand she extended.

"Oh, Mr. Hayden," with a plaintive quaver in her voice, "won't you drive about a little with me? I must talk to some one. I must have advice and--and the sympathy that I know your generous heart will be only too ready to give. It may be unconventional to ask you, and I may be taking up far too much of your valuable time. You will tell me frankly if this is so, will you not?"

Hayden murmured a polite protest, and expressed his appreciation of the privilege in a few words, scarcely conscious of what he was saying, and then sank into the seat beside her, inwardly lamenting his stupidity that he had so impulsively dismissed his waiting taxicab.

"So unconventional!" again murmured the lady as he took his seat, "but then, I am all impulse and intuition. As Mr. Oldham has so often said to me, 'I would rather depend on your intuitions than on the reasoning of the wisest statesmen.' Very, very absurd of him, and yet so dear and in one sense, true."

"True in all senses," said Hayden with the gallantry expected of him.

This Venus Victrix was not so critical as to cavil at the manifest effort in his tones. Let it be forced or spontaneous, a compliment was a compliment to her.

"Mr. Hayden, Robert, if I may call you so, I am very, very unhappy this morning, and--and I have no one, no one to console or comfort me."

Hayden felt a quick impulse of pity, for there was that in her speech and appearance which convinced him that she really was fretting over something, and he saw that under her careful powder and rouge her face looked worn and worried.

"Dear Mrs. Oldham," he said with the effect at least of his natural manner, "I am sure you are bothering. Will you not tell me why and let me at least try and be of some service to you? You know that I shall be only too delighted to have you make me useful in any way that you can."

He spoke with sincere earnestness, for the small, frail creature beside him, her Dresden-china prettiness all faded and eclipsed, her coquetry extinguished, roused in him a sense of pity and protection.

"Ah, Mr. Hayden, Robert,--you gave me permission to call you Robert, did you not?--you are too, too kind," She leaned her head back against the cushions and carefully dabbled her eyes with her handkerchief.

"Now please, do not think of that," he urged; "just consider what a pleasure it is to me to be of service to you."

"Ah," she threw aside all pretense now, and turning to him clutched his arm, "the most terrible things have been happening and I have had to bear them all alone. Marcia," petulantly, "has left me to bear all things alone. She did not come home at all last night, but Kitty Hampton telephoned quite late, after I had gone to bed, that she would spend the night at her, Kitty's, home. Fancy! Rousing me from my sleep like that!

And then, early this morning, Marcia telephoned herself and said that she could not possibly be at home before evening. Imagine! The thoughtlessness, the heartlessness of such a thing!

"But that," resignedly, "that was a mere drop in the bucket. I wish her father were alive! How he would tower in indignation at the thought of my being so neglected and ignored, and by my own daughter, too,--a girl on whose education he lavished a fortune! Why, Mr. Hayden, forgive me, Robert, he would turn in his grave, literally turn in his grave, and"--in a burst of fitful weeping--"he may be quite aware of it, for all we know, and he may be turning in his grave at this very minute."

"Dear Mrs. Oldham," the late and ever lamented Oldham himself, could not have been more sympathetic, "you must have been very lonely indeed, and very much bored, I can quite understand that, but surely, you are not making yourself unhappy over this--this seeming neglect on the part of your daughter. Believe me, you will find that she has some good reason for this action. Surely that is not the only thing that is worrying you."

"Certainly not," The little lady tossed her head and spoke with emphasis.

"Marcia's selfishness and thoughtlessness and indifference toward one who should be the dearest thing on earth to her is very hard to bear, very; but I am not made of the stuff that could break under an affliction of that kind. Mr. Oldham used so often to say that he never saw such fort.i.tude and courage, never dreamed that such qualities existed in women until he knew me, and saw the way I met trouble. Oh, no indeed," again dabbling her eyes, "that is not it at all. No, my only feeling about Marcia's conduct is that I have been left to bear intolerable grief and Insult alone."

"Intolerable grief and insult alone!" Hayden really roused himself. "My dear Mrs. Oldham, those are strong words. What can possibly have happened?"

"That is just it. It is a case requiring strong words," she said firmly.

"Who do you think paid me a visit this morning? Why, Lydia Ames, who hasn't darkened my doors since Wilfred became interested in Marcia. The idea!" overcome by indignation. "What did she want? A princess of the blood? Apparently not! She wants instead a fortune-teller, a madcap like Ydo Carrothers. She spent the whole time this morning telling me how charming and fascinating Ydo was and what a fillip she gave to life. I told her frankly that I had been very thoroughly acquainted with Miss Ydo Carrothers from her youth up, and that she would be a handful for any one. I'd as lief undertake to chaperone a cyclone. She only chuckled in that disagreeable way of hers and spoke of Wilfred's admiration for that Gipsy. When, Robert--you see I was able to say it that time--when every one has been talking, for the past year of Wilfred's devotion to Marcia.

Such a dear fellow and so rich! I loved him like a son; and now, now they Will say that he has jilted her, jilted Marcia, and you know, Robert, a girl never recovers from that sort of thing.

"And then, Lydia Ames, horrid thing, said, oh, how can I tell it, that she was anxious to present Ydo, Ydo Carrothers, forsooth, with a set of b.u.t.terflies as beautiful as Marcia's. Oh, Mr. Hay-- Robert, did you, did you ever hear of anything so cruel? Oh, I tried not to think she had any particular reason for saying it, when in walked Edith Symmes, Edith Symmes of all people, and do you know, Robert, she began to get off the same thing."

She paused to let the enormity of this sink into his consciousness. The tears were streaming down her face, a mask of tragedy, and Hayden could only gaze at her in profound perplexity.

"I'm afraid, I don't know quite what you mean," he said slowly.

So absorbed was she with her grief that she did not appear to have heard him. "You know how malicious they both are," she wailed, "and both of them coming at the same time meant something. 'Talking of b.u.t.terflies'?

Edith Symmes said in that way of hers, 'Well, Mrs. Oldham, you needn't put on such airs because Marcia has the loveliest set in town; nor you, Mrs. Ames, because you're thinking of ordering a set, for I'm going to have a set myself,' Oh, you see, it meant something."

"Mrs. Oldham," said Hayden with the calmness of desperation, "will you not kindly tell me just what you mean? I am utterly and entirely at sea."

"They mustn't know the secret of those detestable b.u.t.terflies," she answered miserably.

"What secret, Mrs. Oldham?"

"Why, the way Marcia is involved. Oh," weeping afresh, "it's too, too much. Oh, if Mr. Oldham were only here!"

It was impossible to get a coherent explanation from her, and Hayden felt as if he could bear no more. He had only one desire, one longing, to escape, to be alone, to sit down in some quiet spot, and try to pull himself together sufficiently to think things out.

"Dear Mrs. Oldham," he said gently, "I am convinced that you are worrying yourself unnecessarily. Won't you go home now and rest, and let me see you this evening or to-morrow? I am sure you will then take a calmer view of the matter. I am going to leave you now. I have some business matters which must be attended to at once. Good-by."