Cartice had a notion that the Butterfly and Prescott loved each other. Being something of which the gods themselves must approve, she could not understand the Butterfly’s reticence on the subject, for the winged creature said not a word in regard to it. In spite of his aggressive character and some other deplorable defects, Prescott was a man to be proud of.
The three were much together. Prescott was the Butterfly’s tireless escort everywhere, and they were usually anxious to have Cartice with them, and often they came together to pass a few hours with her in the evening, as she was invariably alone, Doring finding places more to his taste than the one he called home. Some of Prescott’s friends said more than once that he was growing gentler and kinder, both on paper and off.
One evening the three friends were together in Cartice’s apartment. Prescott’s face was radiant, with a light never seen there before. It refined and softened his rugged features, making his countenance sweet and sunny.
“He has spoken,” thought Cartice, “and this is the light of love that has naught to fear.”
“Children,” he said, after a time, with an unusual sweetness and confidence that became him well, “dear children, I am going to have happiness.”
Both looked at him in affectionate inquiry.
“What kind of happiness?” asked the Butterfly, in a low voice, for there was that in his face which made them feel they were upon holy ground.
“I don’t know! I don’t know! That’s the inexplicable part of it. Yet it seems so near I can almost reach out my hands and grasp it. This feeling has been upon me all day, and grows stronger every moment. I never experienced anything like it before. I don’t know why or whence it comes, nor can I explain it well; but I feel it. Yes, I am very near to something good—near to happiness at last.”
His voice sank low, and its tones had a thrilling sweetness, a holy joy. His companions listened in silence, under a spell, their astonishment too vast for words. This was strange talk to come from him.
As in reverie he went on, after a pause, “All my life I have wondered how it would seem to be happy—really happy—if only for one hour. Misery I know well; but happiness and I have never met. Now, it is so near that I am already in its sunshine.” And he smiled, with the wonderful light on his face, and the smile was strangely sweet and beautiful.