CHAPTER XVIII.
Those aggressive impulses inherited from the pre-social state--those tendencies to seek self-satisfaction regardless of injury to other beings, which are essential to a predatory life, constitute an anti-social force, tending ever to cause conflict and eventual separation of citizens.--Herbert Spencer, _Synthetic Philosophy._
Nina Lindon had by no means given up the pulse-stirring and secretdrives with Geoffrey. The only thing she had given up was saying toherself that in the future she would not go any more. The result of thisfrequent yielding to inclination was that she was miserable enough whenaway from him and not particularly contented when with him. Between herand Margaret Mackintosh a coolness had arisen. Margaret was anunsuspicious person, but her affections had developed her womanhood, andin some mysterious way she had divined that Nina cared to be withGeoffrey more than she would confess. There was no jealousy onMargaret's side. She simply dropped Nina, and perhaps would have foundit hard to say on what grounds. In such matters women take theirimpressions from such small occurrences that their dislikes often seemmore like instinct even to themselves.
As for Nina, she had liked Margaret only with her better self, and nowshe had become conscious of a growing feeling of constraint when in herpresence. The increasing frigidity with which the taller beauty receivedher seemed to afford ground for private dislike. She was unconfessedlytrying to bring herself to hate Margaret, and was on the lookout for areasonable cause to do so. To undermine a detested person treacherouslywould be far more comfortable than undermining a friend. The difficultylay in being unable to hate sufficiently for the hate to become asupport.
Later on in June a ball was given at Government House. The usual rabblewas present. Margaret did not go, as her father happened to be ill atthe time. Nina was there in full force. Geoffrey appeared late in theevening with several others who had been dining with him at the club. Asthe host he had been observing the hospitalities, and it took severaldances to bring his guests down to the comfortable assurance that theyreally had their sea-legs on. They looked all right and perhaps feltbetter than they looked; but during the first waltz or two there seemedto be unexpected irregularities in the floor that had to be treated withcare.
After a few dances, which Geoffrey found kept for him as usual, Nina andhe disappeared--also as usual. Nina was not among the dissolving viewswho do nothing but dissolve. She was fond of her dancing as yet, and, asa rule, only disappeared once in the course of the evening. This soundsvirtuous, but there is perhaps more safety in a plurality ofdisappearances.
The next day she telegraphed to some friends in Montreal, from whom shehad a standing invitation, that she was coming to see them. They wiredback that they would be charmed to see her. Then she telegraphed again:"Had arranged to stop at Brockville on my return from you, but have justheard that they go away in ten days. Would it be all the same if I wentto you about Monday week?"
The answer came from Montreal: "That will suit us very well--though weare disappointed. Mind you come." Then Nina wrote and posted to herMontreal girl friend a note, in which she said: "If any letters shouldcome for me just keep them until I arrive. I will go to Brockville now."
Jack Cresswell saw her off by the evening train, bought her ticket toMontreal, and secured her compartment in the sleeper. Her two largevalises were carried into the compartment. She said she preferred tohave her wearing apparel with her and not bother about baggage-checks.
When everything was settled in the compartment she said in a worriednervous way to Jack: "And I suppose you will be wanting me to write toyou?"
"When you get a chance, Nina. It is not easy, sometimes, to get away, ata friend's house, to write letters. Don't write till you feel like doingso and get a good chance."
This was his kind, self-controlled way of taking her vexatious remarks.But to-day it seemed as if kindness was what she least wished to receivefrom him.
"If I waited till I wished to write to you I don't think I would everwrite again."
"You don't quite mean that, Nina. You are worried and anxious to-night.It makes you unkind and fretful."
"Well, perhaps so," said Nina. "I think I danced too much last night.And this stupid affair of ours worries me. I want a change, and I amgoing to have it. No. I shall not write for at least ten days--perhapstwo weeks, and you had better think over the advisability of gettingsomebody else to wear down to a shadow with a long engagement."
The bell was ringing for departure. Jack tried to make the best of it,and to excuse her inconsiderate remarks. "Remember," she repeated, "Ishall not write for at least ten days, and you had better not write fora week or so either. I want a complete change."
This was so very decisive that Jack could hardly repress a sigh as herose and said: "Well, good-by, old lady; I hope you will have a pleasantvisit."
As he lightly kissed her cheek she stood before him as inanimate asmarble. All at once it seemed dreadful to let him believe in her sothoroughly. A feeling of kindness toward him came over her--a moment ofremorse--remorse for everything. The train was moving off now. Shesuddenly put her arms round his neck and burst into tears. Then shepushed him away. "Run quickly now and get off. Go at once--"
"But Nina, darling what _is_ the matter?"
"Never mind--run, or you'll be killed getting off. I'm only worried.Good-by!" And she pushed him through the door.
Nina continued her passage to Montreal as far as Prescott, where sheleft the train with her luggage, and crossed the St. Lawrence toOgdensburg.