CHAPTER XII
With his heart high with hope, Hayden lost no time in taking his way toYdo's apartment the next afternoon. It was Sunday, a day on which shereceived no clients, and the maid showed him into neither theconsulting- nor reception-rooms, but in a small library beyond them whichwas evidently a part of her private suite.
In coloring the room suggested the soft wood tones that Ydo loved, greensand browns and russets harmoniously blended. The walls were lined withbook-cases, crowded with books, a great and solacing company: Montaigne,Kipling, Emerson, Loti, Kant, Cervantes. These caught Hayden's eye as hetook the chair Mademoiselle Mariposa indicated. There were roses, deepred roses in tall vases, and the breeze from the half-opened window blewtheir fragrance in delicious gusts about the room.
"'The rose-wind blowing from the South,'" quoted Hayden smilingly as heclasped the hand Ydo extended to him from the depths of her chair. Then,clapping his hand to his heart, he bowed exaggeratedly before her."Senorita, I throw my heart at your feet."
"It did not touch the ground, senor. I caught and am holding it for aransom," she answered, with the same elaborate and formal courtesy.
He shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "It is not worthy a ransom,senorita. I beg you, if you will pardon my presumption in offering sobeggarly a gift, to deign to keep it."
"Senor, you overwhelm me. It is I who am unworthy to receive so pricelessa token, and only upon one condition can I do so, and that condition is,that you will in return accept mine."
They both laughed like children at play, and Hayden again threw himselfin the easy chair and took one of the cigarettes Ydo pushed toward him.
"Well, gallant knight, who have found Eldorado," she said, "I have adisappointment in store for you. One of the rightful heirs has suddenlybeen called away on business and will not be in town for ten days or so,but he will communicate with me immediately upon his return and I shallwave my wand, in other words, take down the telephone receiver and summonyou to a conference."
"He!" Hayden felt a sharp sense of disappointment. Then, after all,Marcia was not the sole owner, even if she were one at all. He wonderedimpatiently why he clung so tenaciously to that idea. Her father hadprobably never bought the property, or if he had, it had, no doubt,passed entirely out of her hands.
"Senorita," he implored, "do tell me who these owners are; how many ofthem are there--something, at least, about them. It is only fair to me,do you not think so? What possible reasons are there for secrecy andmystery?"
"He asks me, a professional fortune-teller, to discard secrecy andmystery!" cried the Mariposa. "Who ever heard the like? No. I have my ownreasons for conducting this affair in my own particular and peculiar way,and, as far as I can see, senor, there is nothing for you to do butacquiesce. But listen! 'Tis the professional voice of MademoiselleMariposa which you hear now. Do not fear. You may set your house in orderand do your wooing with an easy mind. It is all over. Poor brother of theroad, you have found Eldorado and won Cinderella. Ah, the cruel gods!"She lifted her eyes to the ceiling.
"Won Cinderella!" He wondered sharply how much she knew, if anything, anddecided she was probably speaking on the authority of recent rumorgleaned from Horace Penfield.
"You seem to imply that the gods are offering me nectar in a hemlockcup."
She nodded several times, each nod becoming more emphatic.
"Ah, happy he who gains not The love some seem to gain."
"Senorita," he protested politely, "your hyperbole is no doubt fraughtwith wisdom, but it is a wisdom beyond my dense understanding."
"You've forgotten," she replied. "'Twas a lesson we learned 'when you werea tadpole and I was a fish,' It is a bit of wisdom that lies deep in ourhearts; but we shrink from it and refuse to heed it, clinging blindly toour illusions."
"You always moralize so unpleasantly." He looked so desperate that shelaughed her silver, ringing laughter that shook the rose-petals fromtheir calyxes.
"Well, to change the subject, when you have Cinderella and Eldorado whatare you going to do with them?"
"Enjoy life!"
"Child! The rashest of statements! Life resents nothing so much as takingher for granted. When she hears her mariners cry: 'Clear sailing now,'she invariably tosses them a storm. When they exclaim with relief: 'aquiet port,' she laughs in her sleeve and presents them with quicksand.Now I will tell you something, prophesy, without crystal, your palm orany astrological charts. See, I am always the fortune-teller. Listen."Her voice sank into deep, rich tones. "On your throne in Eldorado, withCinderella beside you in her gold crown, there will come a day, an hour,when in the twinkling of an eye, all the shimmer, the shine, the purpleand gold, the pomp and pride will grow dim before your eyes, and fadequite away, and you will see instead the long, brown path with the pineson either side marching up the hillside, on and on, up and up, and beyondthem the snowy tips of the mountains, and you will hear the music thathas never been written, the song of the road; all of its harmonies of thewind in the trees and the beat of the surf upon the shingle. It willhaunt you until you will sicken for it; and at night, no matter how softyour bed and how silken your coverlets, you will toss and turn and dreamof the hemlock boughs and the fern, the smell of the deep, deep woods!"
"Don't!" he cried sharply. "Stop it! It is too realistic. Anyway, I canalways go back."
"Oh, no, you can not," she said. "That will be quite impossible after youhave lived in Eldorado for a while. You'll forget the way." She shook herhead. "You'll never come back."
"Then, I'm willing, glad and proud "--he lifted his head, his eyesshining--"to give it up for her, if she wants Eldorado. Tell me, Ydo,"boldly, "have you never loved?"
"Many times." Her eyes dreamed. "Many times have I loved and unloved andforgotten. For that very reason I quote to you:
"'Ah, happy he who gains not The love some seem to gain.'
"Oh, what an opportunity my scorned profession gives me for knowing thehuman heart. This woman who comes to me cries: 'If I had only married Ishould have known the joy of companionship, of motherhood, and childrengrowing up around me,' And this one wails: 'I have made a mistake. If Ihad not married and been condemned to a humdrum life what a noise I mighthave made in the world with my gifts and my beauty,' There is only onegood, you know, the good we haven't got. They want a life of romance, ofcharm, and they never seem to think that it must be within them." Shestruck the table lightly. "Life is only a reflection of one's self."
"And have you found your choice satisfactory?" he asked curiously.
She gave her quick little shrug. "I have lived after my own nature. Itwould have been impossible for me to do otherwise. Ah, life, life! Therehas never been a moment that good or bad, I have not loved it! It is aplant--life, a beautiful plant; and most people are in haste to cull itsloveliest blossoms and strip it bare of leaves, in the effort to get allit can give, and finally, they even drag up the roots to see if they cannot extract something more; but to enjoy that plant, Mr. Hayden"--shespoke with passionate emphasis--"you must love and tend it. 'To get themost out of life' is a horrible phrase. Life offers nothing to those whoseek her thus; but to all who ask little of her, who stand ready and gladto give, she repays an hundredfold."
"What a preacher you are," he laughed.
Before Ydo could answer, the maid entered with a card and handed it toher. The Mariposa sat silent for a moment or two, gazing intently at thebit of pasteboard, a peculiar smile on her lips.
"Show Mrs. Ames in here," she said at last, with sudden decision.
"Mrs. Ames!" Hayden sat in dumb amazement "Mrs. Ames!" What on earthCould that old woman want with the Mariposa?
But before he could voice his astonishment, the visitor appeared. She wasin her customary rusty, fringed black, jingling with chains, mummified inexpression, and with the usual large showing of dusty diamonds. Shesurveyed Hayden through her lorgnon with both surprise and disapproval,and then acknowledging his bow with a curt nod, turned to Ydo.
But
a change had come over Mademoiselle Mariposa. She was no longer theDreaming Gipsy, but a _grande dame_, a lady with some subtle, exotictouch of foreign distinction, who greeted the older woman with a charmingand reserved grace.
Mrs. Ames seated herself on the extreme edge of a stiff chair."Mademoiselle Mariposa," her thin voice rang authoritatively, "I hadhoped to see you alone for a few moments of private conversation."
"Just so, madame," responded Ydo suavely, "but I have no secrets from Mr.Hayden. He is an old friend, an adviser, I may call him."
"Humph!" Again the lorgnon was turned threateningly on Hayden. "Verywell, since you have brought this on yourself, you may take theconsequences. I will continue with what I have to say. Mademoiselle, Ihave had a recent and most distressing interview with my son. To put itfrankly, I was reproaching him with his devotion to a most ineligibleyoung woman, and he, in a rage, informed me that he cared nothing forher, and proclaimed, openly proclaimed, his infatuation for you."
"Wilfred!" Ydo sat upright, her languid gaze brightening. "Really!"
"Wilfred?" the mother repeated, with a rising inflection.
"Yes, Wilfred; you were speaking of him, were you not?" The Mariposa'sgreen eyes sparkled with mirth. "Well, madame"--she spokenegligently--"what can I do for you? You know I do not receive any oneprofessionally on Sunday."
"Would you regard it as professional if I ask you what you are going todo about my son?"
"Not at all. I think it quite natural that you should wish to know. I canquite appreciate your state of mind, maternal anxiety, and all that. Tohave been in terror for fear your son would marry Marcia Oldham and thendiscover that he is really interested in me! It illuminates that passagein _Paradise Lost_, does it not? It is sometimes considered obscure. Youdoubtless recall it. Something about 'and in the lowest depths a lowerdepth was found.'"
"You seem to have some appreciation of the situation," said the old womangrimly.
"Believe me, I have. Only the mask smiles Comedy at me, and Tragedy atyou. Madame, why do you cluck so over your one chicken?"
"The answer to that," Mrs. Ames tartly replied, "is first Miss Oldham andthen yourself."
"The declining scale! Fancy where he will end!" Ydo murmured.
"It may be a circus-rider yet," admitted his mother.
"I have been one," announced Ydo calmly, and Hayden could not tellwhether she spoke the truth or fiction. "Well"--there was a touch ofimpatience in her tones now--"what do you wish me to do?" She lifted afan from her lap, and rapidly furled and unfurled it, a sure sign ofirritation with her. "Find him a pretty doll with a blue sash and awreath of daisies? You must have urged many a one on him and see to whatthey have driven him."
"Wait," said the old lady, laying one bony, yellow hand stiff with rings,dusty diamonds in dim gold settings, on Ydo's arm. "Why do you take itfor granted that I have come to you to do the tearful mother, imploringthe wicked adventuress to give up her son? They do those things on thestage, and I've never regarded the stage as a mirror of life. I haveheard more about you than you think, mademoiselle. Horace Penfield sitsin my ingle-nook. Now, what I came to find out is what you want withWilfred, if indeed you want him at all."
"You flatter me," said Ydo. "More, you interest me. Now, just why do youwish to know?"
"Are you going to marry him?"
"It is evidently cards on the table with us." Ydo had recovered her goodspirits. "Truly, I have not decided. You see, madame, your Wilfred is abig, good-natured fellow. He is like a faithful, loyal, devoted dog. Youand I being cats need neither his assistance, advice nor sympatheticcompanionship. I can also say truly that his ancient name and his moneyare nothing to me. But he has something I want." She rested her cheek onher fan, a wistful note had crept into her voice, a shadow lay in hereyes. "Ah, madame, do you not understand that we, to whom all things comeeasily, are often very lonely? Life's spoiled and petted darlings, we areof necessity isolated. We live at high pressure, absorbed in ourenthusiasms and interests, but there come moments of weariness when wewould droop on the heart that really loves us, when we would rest in thatmaternal and protecting love which never criticizes, never judges orcondemns, never sees the ravages of time or the waste of beauty, neverputs upon us the crowning indignity of forgiveness--only loves. Loves,madame, as Wilfred loves me. 'Tis the rarest thing in all the world."
"And what would you give the poor dog in exchange for this?" Mrs. Ames'voice was dry to sarcasm. But Ydo was unmoved.
"My brains, madame, my knowledge of men, women and the world. Mydiplomacy, my power of attack. Wouldn't it be a fair exchange?"
Mrs. Ames clasped her stiff hands together and dropped the lorgnonon the floor. "By George!" she cried. "You're a man after my ownheart. Look at me! I'm a withered, haggard old woman, fierce as acat and ugly as sin. Why? Because all my life I've been baffled. Iwas born as wild a bird, my dear, as yourself; but I never knew howto get out of the cage and I was always getting into new ones. Ilacked--what-d'-y'-m'-call-it--initiative; and all this longing in me forfreedom"--she clutched the dangling fringes on her breast--"and life andthe choosing of my own path never had an outlet. It turned sour andcurdled, and became malice and all uncharitableness.
"Well, when I began to realize that Wilfred would probably give me acompanion in the cage I got sick. I could bear the cage myself, I'dlearned to do that; but I didn't want another she-bird molting around.And then when it looked as if it would be Marcia Oldham I got sicker. Itdrove me wild to think of that milk-faced chit of a girl, with a fool ofa mother that I've always despised! I tell you what you do, Miss GipsyFortune-teller!" She rapped the arm of Ydo's chair emphatically. "MarryWilfred! Sure if you do," peering at her suspiciously, "that you won'telope with some one else?"
"I may," said Ydo coolly. "Only I have had the experience twice before,and it doesn't amuse me." Again, for the life of him, Hayden could notdecide whether this were the embroidery of fiction or the truth. "Thefirst man used scent on his handkerchief, and the second ate garlic withhis fingers. I couldn't endure either of them for a week."
"You rake!" chuckled Wilfred's mother, clapping the Mariposa on theshoulder. "Marry Wilfred, do now! Make him president, at any rate aforeign ambassador." She rose. "You've given me fresh hope. I feel twentyyears younger. Well, Mr. Heywood--Harden--whatever your name is, we'vetreated you as if you were a piece of furniture."
"Regard me instead as a wall," said Hayden pleasantly, "which has earsbut no tongue. Won't you vouch for my discretion, Mademoiselle Mariposa?"
"As I would for the chairs and tables to which Mrs. Ames so amiablycompares you," smiled Ydo.
When Hayden returned from putting the old lady in her carriage he showedall the elation of one who has scored heavily.
"Aha!" he cried. "Warning me one moment with serious argument against theInevitable ennui induced by settling in Eldorado and all the timepreparing to build your own castles there!"
"But not for permanent residence," she protested, "and I assure you, Ihave not even decided whether or not to build there at all. My real homeis for ever in Arcady. Do you think, seriously think, that there isanything in Eldorado which can hold me when I see the beechwoods growinggreen, and hear the fifes of June in my ears and get a whiff of thewild-grape fragrance? Then I know that there's nothing for me but Arcady;and it's up and away in the wake of the clover-seeking bee. But you're aman, Bobby, who has--what is that awful phrase?--oh, yes, 'acceptedresponsibilities,' and you'll stay there in Eldorado, bound by white armsand ropes of gold."
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