“You see I was only a young butterfly-hunter then,” said Laleham, “I have learnt wisdom since.”
“Well, it led me on in this way for quite two hours, till we came to the end of the wild country, and suddenly dropped down into a small village. You will laugh at what follows, though it had its sad side for me. We had come on the village at the end where there stands the parish church....”
“I know the village,” said Mariana, absently, as if she were saying nothing. Laleham shot a troubled look at her, but continued.
“The churchyard was filled with a throng of people gaily dressed as for a wedding. What should my butterfly do but dash amongst them, and I after it, for it was too precious to lose. Soaring over the heads of the crowd, it dashed for shelter into the church, and I again after it, forgetting all but my butterfly--and there were two young people kneeling at the altar. My abrupt entrance naturally made a sensation which brought me to myself, and, dropping on my knees in a pew, I watched my butterfly flicker up the aisle till it settled itself on the clasped hands of the kneeling bride. In surprise, she turned her head, and....”
“Quite a fairy tale,” said Mariana, after a pause. “Now tell me about the second time you saw your butterfly.”
“I hardly care to speak of it, Mariana--unless you care very much to hear.”
“Yes, speak of it--to me,” said Mariana gently.
“It is a very short story, Mariana--almost the same, excepting the end; for, three years afterwards, once more my butterfly rose out of the reeds in almost exactly the same spot, and once more it coquetted with me for miles, and once more it dashed into that little churchyard ... but this time it did not vanish into the church, but went from grave to grave, as you say the soul perhaps wanders from star to star, and presently it stopped at one of the graves. I thought that now it was surely mine, and raised my net to strike, but, as I did so, I read a name upon a stone....”
In the darkness Mariana reached out her hand and took Laleham’s, and, after a silence, she said:
“I know the grave,” and, after another silence, she said:
“I have heard that she was very beautiful.”
Then the two sat on, saying no more in the starlight, and all the while, though neither knew of it till they returned to the library lamps, a little blue butterfly had been hiding in Mariana’s hair.