CHAPTER VIII
Kitty was as good as her word and telephoned her cousin the address ofMademoiselle Mariposa that evening,--a fact that rather surprised Hayden,as he had a sort of indefinable idea that she would conveniently forgether promise.
On his part, he lost no time in seeking the Mariposa, calling at herapartment the next morning, only to be informed by a particularly trimand discreet maid that her mistress received no one save by appointment.Therefore, bowing to the inevitable with what philosophy he could summon,he went home and wrote a note to the seeress, requesting an earlyinterview and signing an assumed name. He was gratified to receive ananswer, dictated, the next morning in which Mademoiselle Mariposa statedthat she would be pleased to receive him at three o'clock in theafternoon, on the following Thursday. Thursday, and this was Tuesday. Twodays farther away than he desired, but there was nothing to do but curbhis impatience, and he set about occupying his mind and incidentally histime until Thursday.
Fortunately, he discovered in glancing over his list of engagements thata number of events dovetailed admirably, thus filling up the hours, andamong them was Edith Symmes' luncheon on Wednesday. He heaved a sigh ofrelief that there were enough things on hand to give time wings, even ifartificial ones, when it seemed bent on perversely dragging leaden feetalong the ground. In consequence he betook himself to Mrs. Symmes' houseon Wednesday with more eagerness than he would otherwise have shown hadhe not regarded her luncheon as a time-chaser.
Mrs. Symmes had been early widowed. Her experience of married lifeincluded a bare two years, her husband living a twelve-month longer thanthe friends of both had predicted. He was, so it was rumored, a charmingfellow of rare artistic taste and discrimination, a dilettante, and aconnoisseur of all things beautiful. So sensitively was he organized thatinharmonies or discords of color, or any lack of artistic perceptionaffected him acutely, often to the verge of illness, and alwaysirritation. Although he permitted his wife no voice in the decoration andfurnishing of either town or country house, almost desperately withheldit from her in fact, he could not control or even influence her taste indress, and there were those who did not hesitate to whisper that Edith'scostumes alone were quite sufficient to have caused his death.
After that event, Mrs. Symmes endured the low-toned harmonies of herhusband's faultless taste for six months, and then declaring herenvironment depressing to her spirits, she refurnished the house fromgarret to cellar, perpetrating crimes in decoration which made thehorrors of her toilets seem mere peccadillos.
Hayden was soon to realize this, for on arriving at her home on Wednesdayhe was shown to a drawing-room large in size but crowded with furniture.Little tables, chairs, footstools, anything which would serve as astumbling-block, seemed to be placed in the direct path of the guestadvancing toward his hostess.
Robert, seeing that it behooved him to walk as delicately as Agag,reached Mrs. Symmes without misadventure, and after exchanging the usuallight-weight coin of conventional greeting, looked about him for afamiliar face. Most of the people he knew only casually; but presently,he spied Mrs. Habersham and made his way toward her as rapidly as themanifold objects in his path permitted.
She was, as usual, in one of the shades of American Beauty, which she somuch affected, and which were admirably suited to her, giving depth andopulence, the rich restfulness of color to her too sharply defined andrestless beauty. Upon her breast was her silver butterfly and theenameled chains were about her throat.
"I have walked twice across this room," said Hayden triumphantly, aftershaking hands with her, "and I haven't fallen once. If I came here oftenI should bring an ax, notch the furniture and then clear a path. Theregoes some one!" as a heavy stumble was heard. "I did better than that."
"Don't boast. Remember that it's the wicked who stand in slipperyplaces," said Bea, with meaning. "But indeed, I am glad you got here.There is some distorted, goggle-eyed Chinese monster at my elbow, and onthe table before me is an ornament which chills the marrow of my bones. Idare not look up."
Hayden gazed bravely about him. "I don't think I ever saw such a hideousroom in my life," he said slowly and with conviction.
"There is only one room in the world uglier," Bea assured him, "and thatis the dining-room; but they do say that the wall-paper in her bed-roomis of a bright scarlet, with large lozenges representing green and blueparrots swinging in gilded cages."
Hayden laughed and shivered. "It takes strong nerves," he said. "Do yousuppose there are people who come often?"
"Oh, dear me, yes," returned Mrs. Habersham. "One would dine in Infernoif the food were good. Her table is as perfect as her house and gowns aredreadful, and then Edith herself is very clever and amusing. Here shecomes."
"The cause of this delay," smiled Mrs. Symmes in passing, "is Mrs. Ames.I'll give her just one minute more."
Bea smiled perfunctorily, and then turned on Hayden an alarmed face. "Inever would have come to-day--never, if I had fancied she would bepresent. She will be sure to launch out on Marcia Oldham before luncheonis over. She never misses an opportunity. She has a mania on thesubject."
Hayden glanced toward the door with curiosity. "Where is this pepper andvitriol old dame?" he asked, with elaborate carelessness.
"She has not come yet. Did you not hear Edith say that it is she for whomwe are waiting? You will see her in a moment, though. She is always late;but she will come, never fear."
Her words were prophetic, for at that moment Mrs. Ames hurried into theroom, a wiry, spare old woman with a small hooked nose and a jaw like anut-cracker. The skin of her face was yellow and deeply wrinkled, hereyes were those of a fierce, untamed bird, and she was gowned--swathed isthe more suitable word--in rusty black with a quantity of danglingfringes and many jingling chains.
Luncheon was announced immediately after her arrival, and to Hayden'sdismay he found that it was served at small tables and that he was placedbetween Mrs. Ames and Mrs. Habersham, with Horace Penfield oppositesmiling in faint satirical glee at the situation.
"I shall never forgive Edith Symmes for this, never," was Bea's indignantwhisper in Hayden's ear. "But just the same, I shall not give that oldwitch a chance to air any of her grievances. You'll see. With your helpand cooperation I intend to monopolize the conversation."
Robert hastily assured her that she could depend on him to the limit ofhis capacities, and together they seized and held the ball ofconversation, occasionally tossing it from one to the other; but neverpermitting it for a moment to fall into either Penfield's or Mrs. Ames'hands.
Hayden pottered over this incident or that, dawdling through long-windedtales of travel, and when his recollection or invention flagged Mrs.Habersham introduced topics so inimical to Mrs. Ames' frequently airedviews that this lady rose passionately to the fray. Woman's Suffrage,Socialism, the Decline of the Church, Bea, a conservative, flung upon thetable and Mrs. Ames pounced upon them as a dog upon a bone, a radical ofradicals.
Meantime, Horace Penfield had sat enjoying his luncheon with a coolplacidity, and listening with a smile of faint amusement to the argumentswhich surged and eddied about him. He looked for the most partindifferent, although, perhaps, he was only patient.
At last, in an unguarded moment Mrs. Habersham paused for breath, and inthe brief ensuing silence Penfield entered the conversation like a thinsharp wedge.
"What a fad those butterflies are among you lovely ladies," he said toMrs. Habersham. "But yours are paler than most of them, more opaline.Why?"
"Because I wear red so frequently," she replied indifferently. "Thepurple and yellow butterflies would look horrid with my crimson frocks."
"I really think," said Penfield slowly, meeting her eyes with a cool,blank gaze, "that, saving your presence, Mrs. Habersham, Marcia Oldhamhas by far the handsomest set I have seen."
At this red rag, purposely fluttered as Hayden felt before the eyes ofMrs. Ames, that lady sniffed audibly and tossed her head, emitting at thesame moment a faint, contemptuous cackle.
> "Oh, no," Bea assured him with languor, although the scarlet burned inher cheek. "Marcia's are nothing to compare to Mrs. ----," mentioning thename of the London actress.
"Oh, I must differ from you." Penfield was suavely positive. "I amsurprised that you should say that, for Miss Oldham's are quite the mostartistic I have seen."
"Naturally Miss Oldham would have the handsomest set in the market,wouldn't she?" queried Mrs. Ames in what no doubt was intended to be atone of innocent inquiry.
"Marcia's taste is very beautiful," said Mrs. Habersham coldly.
"And very extravagant, I understand." Mrs. Ames was started now; therewas no stopping her. "If one wears beautiful things in these days onemust expect to pay for them."
Mrs. Habersham shrugged her shoulders and turning to Hayden asked himwhen he had last seen his cousin Kitty Hampton; but Mrs. Ames' crackedvoice rose above their low tones.
"I wish some one would explain to me--perhaps you can, Mr. Penfield--justhow a young woman who hasn't a penny to her name can afford a superbnecklace. Such things could not have occurred in my young days; butdifferent times, different manners. Humph!"
Before Penfield could reply, Bea Habersham leaned across the table andaddressed her clearly: "It seems to me that such imaginary and absurdbehavior would be considered as reprehensible to-day as in the remote erayou mention."
Mrs. Ames held her lorgnon to her eyes with one withered, yellow hand,each finger covered to the swollen knuckles with diamonds dim with dust,then she dropped it in her lap with another dry cackle and said with acomplete change of tone, as if reverting to some new topic ofconversation:
"Mr. Penfield was speaking of your friend, Miss Oldham, a moment or twoago, Mrs. Habersham. Perhaps you will be able to tell me the identity ofthe rather elderly, ordinary-looking man with whom I have seen herseveral times lately?"
It seemed to Hayden that Bea's face grew a shade paler, but his momentaryapprehension gave way to a swift admiration for her poise, the casual andcareless indifference with which she answered:
"I am sure I can't imagine, Mrs. Ames. Marcia has many friends, more Ifancy than you dream of." He also felt a swift longing to take HoracePenfield by the scruff of his thin, craning neck and drop him from thewindow instead of permitting him to sit there calmly sipping his liqueurwith that faint, amused smile as of gratified malice about his lips.
Then he drew a breath of relief. Every one was rising.
"You were magnificent," he whispered as he drew aside for Bea to pass.
She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank goodness, it's to be bridge now andnot conversation."
A few minutes later they were all seated at the card-tables and exceptfor the occasional low-toned voicing of the conventions of the game, agrateful silence reigned.
But at the close of the afternoon, just as they were leaving, Bea askedHayden if he would not drive down-town with her and let her drop him athis apartment. He accepted gladly, hoping in the brief intimacy of thedrive homeward together that she would speak of Marcia.
But for a season, Mrs. Habersham cared only to discuss the scene they hadjust left; the fortunes of the game; the excellencies of this player, theatrocities of that; the eccentricities of their hostess and herapparently ineradicable passion for ugliness.
"It is true," she assured him, "about the red paper and the green andblue parrots in gilt cages; a woman who has seen it swore upon herhonor."
They had by this time turned into the Park, and Bea leaned forward toinhale the fresher air. Night was falling fast; the spreadinglawn-spaces, the dense shrubbery, the irregularly disposed trees were nolonger distinct, but melted together, indistinguishable and unfeaturedblurs in the deepening twilight.
Bea drooped her brow on her hand and sat in silence for a few moments.Then she turned to Hayden, her lips compressed, her hands clasped tightlytogether.
"Isn't it awful! Isn't it dreadful!" she cried. "To think of that oldwitch of Endor saying all those horrible untrue things about poor lovelyMarcia, and worse, spreading them broadcast?"
Hayden lifted his chin in quick determination. "Mrs. Habersham, I can notbe ignorant of what you refer to. I have, to my annoyance"--he hesitatedand then deliberately chose another word--"to my pain, heard varioushints and innuendoes before of the same kind. Now, why is this? Justmalice, envy, jealousy? Why"--his indignation vibrated through hisvoice--"should one so lovely, so above reproach, as Miss Oldham, be thevictim of that sort of thing?"
"Because," said Bea bitterly, "Marcia attends strictly to her ownbusiness and does not request any advice or permit any interference. Oh,Mr. Hayden, it is useless to tell you what a dear she is. I know fromwhat you have just said that you do, you must admire her. No one couldhelp it," she added, with a simple and loyal conviction. "So you mayunderstand how difficult it is for us who love her, for the very few ofus who are in some measure in her confidence, to have to accept the factthat there are certain things in her life which appear odd, which arenot--" She broke off, looking at him uncertainly.
"Mrs. Habersham--" Hayden had turned about in his seat so that he couldgaze more directly at her, and now, although his face had grown pale, hesmiled down upon her his charming smile. "Mrs. Habersham, let me gofurther and tell you that I have never met a woman in my life toward whomI have felt as I do toward Miss Oldham. Why not put it frankly and tellyou the exact truth? I love her."
Bea's eyes brightened delightedly and then grew a little sad. "Isuspected as much," she said gently, "and yet, I hardly knew whether youhad the courage or not. Now," impulsively moving nearer to him, "I willbe as frank as you have been. Nothing in all the world, nothing wouldplease me half so much as for you and Marcia to love each other. I don'tknow you awfully well, Mr. Hayden, and yet," she laughed, "I do in a way.True, we have only met a few times; but for many years I have been wellacquainted with Kitty's 'Bobby,' But," and her dark eyes smiled on himwith a soft shining in their depths, "I think that just now when there isall this unkind whispering it is a beautiful and courageous thing for youto love Marcia, and I want to assure you that all the support I can giveto your cause is yours."
Her ungloved hand lay on her knee, and Hayden lifted it and lightlykissed it. "Dear lady," he began, his voice a little broken.
"Oh, wait!" She lifted the same hand in admonition. "My support may notamount to anything. Reserve your gratitude. Marcia is extremely reticentabout her own affairs, but, nevertheless, I can give you a crumb ofcomfort. No matter what every one says, I am sure that she and WilfredAmes are not engaged and that she does not begin to see as much of him aspeople think; and I do know"--again her voice was shaken withindignation--"that there wouldn't begin to be as much of this unpleasanttalk if it were not for his mother's wicked, frantic fears. Why, whatdoes she wish? She might be glad, proud to have such a daughter-in-law asMarcia. Oh, Mr. Hayden, I can't talk about it. It makes me too angry."
"Mrs. Habersham"--Hayden spoke with that quiet, forceful determinationwhich was under all his impulses the real key-note of his character--"Idesire nothing so much in the world as to be of assistance to MissOldham. Can't we"--his smile had never been more winning--"can't we clearaway these cobwebs of mystery which surround her?"
"Ah," cried Bea Habersham, tears in her eyes, "we who love her all longto do that."
"Then you will help me?"
"Oh, you give me hope that it is a possibility," with one of her radiantchanges of mood. "But," and she fell again into depression, "I can nothelp you. You must do it all, all yourself."
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