CHAPTER V.
Fair goes the dancing when the sitar's tuned; Tune us the sitar neither low nor high, And we will dance away the hearts of men.
The string o'erstretched breaks, and music flies; The string o'erslack is dumb, and music dies; Tune us the sitar neither low nor high.
_Nautch girls' song.--The Light of Asia._ ARNOLD.
Mr. Lindon did not remain long with his family on the trip which Mrs.Lindon thought was only to last a month or two. On arriving in England,he transacted his business in a short time, and then proposed a run onthe Continent. By degrees he took the family on to Rome, where they madefriends at the hotel and seemed contented to remain for a while. He thenpretended to have received a cablegram, and came home by the quickestroute, having got them fairly installed in a foreign country withoutletting them suspect any coercion in the matter. Afterward he wrote tosay he wished Nina to see something of England and Scotland, and, theproposal being agreeable to Mrs. Lindon, they accepted invitations frompeople they had met to pay visits in different places, so that, togetherwith an art course in Paris and a musical course at Leipsic, theywandered about until nearly two years had elapsed, when they suddenlysuspected that Mr. Lindon preferred that they should be away, upon whichthey returned at once.
Whether Nina came back "in love" with Jack was a question as to which hemade many endeavors to satisfy himself. The ability to live up to theverb "to love" in all its moods and tenses is so varied, and the outwardresults of the inward grace are often so ephemeral that it would behazardous to say what particular person is sufficiently unselfish toexperience more than a gleam of a phase that calls for all the mostbeautiful possibilities. It is not merely a jingle of words to say thatone who is not minded to be single should be single-minded.
Let us pass over the difficult point and take the young lady's statementfor what it was worth. She said, of herself, that she _was_ in love withJack. He had extracted this from her with much insistence, while sheaggravatingly asserted at the same time, that she only made theadmission "for a quiet life," leaving Jack far from any certainty ofpossession that could lead to either indifference or comfort.
Two or three proposals of marriage which she had while away hadevidently not captured her, even if they had turned her head a little.She had seen no person she liked better than Jack or else she would not,perhaps, have come back in the way she did. The proposals, however, ifthey ever had been made, served to turn Jack's daily existence intoalternations of hot and cold shower-baths. One day she would talk abouta Russian she had met in Paris. Then she solemnly gave the history ofher walks and talks with a naval officer in Rome, till Jack's brow wasdamp with a cold exudation. But when it came to the delightfulappearance of Colonel Vere, and the devotion he showed when he took herhand and asked her to share his estates, Jack said, with his teethclinched, that he had had enough of the whole business--and departed. Hethen spent two days of very complete misery, barometer at 28 deg., until shemet him and laid her hand on his arm and said she was sorry; would hestop being a cross boy? that she had only been teasing him, and all therest of it; while she looked out of her soft dark eyes in a way thatleft no doubt in Jack's mind that he had behaved like a brute.
In this way the first week of her return had been consumed, and as yethe had not felt that he could afford to divide her society with anybody.What with the rich Russian, the naval officer, and Colonel Vere--whatwith getting into agonies and getting out of them--it took him prettynearly all his time to try to straighten matters out. So Geoffrey'sintroduction had not been mentioned further by him, except to Nina, whowas becoming curious to see Jack's particular friend and AdmirableCrichton. The opportunity for this meeting seemed about to offer itselfin the shape of an entertainment where all those who remained in Torontoduring the summer would collect--one of those warm gatherings where theoft-tried case of _pleasure vs. perspiration_ results so frequently inan undoubted verdict for the defendant.
The Dusenalls were among those wise enough to know that in summer theycould be cooler in Toronto, at their own residence, with every comfortabout them, than they could possibly be while stewing in an Americanhotel or broiling on the sands of an American seaport. They objected tospending large sums yearly in beautifying their grounds, merely to leavethe shady walks, cool arbors, and tinkling fountains for the enjoymentof the gardeners' wives and children. In the thickness of their mansionwalls there was a power to resist the sun which no thin wooden hotel canpossess; therefore, in spite of a fashion which is somewhat dying out,they remained in Toronto during the hot months, and amused themselves agood deal on young Dusenall's yacht.
Their residence was well adapted for such a party as they were nowgiving, and the guests were made to understand that in the afternoonthere would be a sort of garden-party, with lawn-tennis chiefly in view,and at dark a substantial high tea--to wind up with dancing as long ashuman nature could stand the strain; and if any had got too old or toocorpulent or too dignified to play tennis, they could hardly get toomuch so to look on; or, if this lacked interest, they could walk aboutthe lawns and gardens and converse, or, if possible, make love; orlisten to a good military band while enjoying a harmless cigarette; andif they liked none of these things they could never have been known bythe people of whom this account is given, and thus, perhaps, might aswell never have been born.
The men, of course, played in their flannels, which a few of themafterward changed in Charley Dusenall's rooms when there was asuspension of hostilities for toilets. Most of them went home to dinnerand appeared later on for the dancing. People came in afternoon-dressand remained for tea and through the evening in that attire, or elsethey dropped in at the usual time in evening-dress. It did not matter.It was all a sort of "go-as-you-please." Some girls danced in theirlight tennis dresses, and others had their maids come with ball dresses.Of course the majority came late--especially the chaperons, the heavyfathers, starchy bank-managers, and such learned counsel as scorned notto view the giddy whirl nor to sample the cellars of the Dusenalls.
Mrs. Lindon arrived with her daughter late in the evening, wheneverything was whirling. Jack had his name down for a couple of dances,and a few more were bestowed upon eager aspirants, and then she had nomore to give away--so sorry!--card quite filled! She told dancing fibsin a charming manner that seemed to take away half the pang ofdisappointment. This was a field-day, and the discarded ones couldreceive more notice on some other, smaller occasion.
To see Jack and Nina dancing together was to see two people completelysatisfied with themselves. As a dancer, Jack "fancied himself." He hadan eye for calculating distances and he had the courage of his opinionswhen he proposed to dance through a small space. As for Nina, she wasthe incarnation of a waltz. Her small feet seemed as quick as the pat ofa cat's paw. In watching her the idea of exertion never seemed topresent itself. There is a pleasure in the rhythmic pulsations of thefeet and in yielding to the sensuous strains of the music (which aloneseems to be the propelling power) that is more distinctly animal than agood many of our other pleasures; and Nina was born to dance.
At the end of Jack's first dance with her, Geoffrey came idling throughthe conservatory, and entered the ball-room close beside the place whereMrs. Lindon was seated with several other mothers. As the last bars ofthe waltz were expiring, Jack brought up at what he called "themoorings" with all the easy swing and grace of a dancer who loves hisdance. The act of stopping seemed to divide the unity in trinityexisting between his partner, himself and the music, and it wastherefore to be regretted, and not to be done harshly, but lingeringly,if it _must_ be done, while Nina, as he released her, came forwardtoward her mother with her sleeveless arms still partly hanging in theair, and with a pretty little trip and slide on the floor, as if shecould not get the "time" out of her feet. Her head was slightly thrownback, the eyelids were drooped, and the lips were parted with a smile ofrecognition for Mrs. Lindon, while her attitude showed the curves of hersmall waist to advantage; so that the first
glimpse of Nina thatGeoffrey received was not an unpleasant one. She seemed to be movingnaturally and carelessly. She was only endeavoring to make the othermothers envious, when they compared her with their own daughters. Suchwiles were part of her nature. When feeling particularly vigorous,almost every attitude of some people is a challenge--males with theirbravery, females with their graces--and, whatever changes the future maydevelop in the predilections of woman, there may for a long time be someleft to acknowledge that for them a likable man is one who is able toassert, in a refined way, sufficient primitive force to make submissionseem like conquest rather than choice.
Jack at once introduced Geoffrey--his face beaming while he did so. Hewas so proud of Nina. He was so proud of Geoffrey. Nina was blushing athaving Hampstead witness her little by-play with her mother at theconclusion of the dance--but not displeased withal. Jack thought he hadnever seen her look so beautiful. And Geoffrey was such a strapper. Jacksurveyed them both with unbounded satisfaction. He slapped Hampstead onthe arm, and tightened the sleeve of his coat over his biceps, pattingthe hard limb, and saying warmly: "Here's where the secret lies, Nina!This is what takes the prizes."
"So you are Jonathan's David, are you?" said Nina, smiling, as theytalked together.
"Well, he patronizes me a good deal," said Geoffrey. "But don't youthink he looks as if he wished to find his next partner? Suppose we givehim a chance to do so; let us go off and discuss his moral character."
He went away with Nina on his arm, leaving Jack quite radiant to seethem both so friendly.
When they arrived in the long conservatory adjoining, Geoffrey held outhis hand for her card. He did not ask for it, except perhaps by a look.Having possessed himself of it, he found five successive dancesvacant--evidently kept for some one, and he was bold enough suddenly toconclude they had been kept for him. He looked at the card amused, andas he scratched a long mark across all five, he drawled, "May I have thepleasure of--some dances?" And then he mused aloud as he examined thecard, "Don't seem to be more than five. Humph! Too bad! But perhaps wecan manage a few more, Miss Lindon?"
Nina was accustomed to distribute her favors with a reluctant hand andwith a condescension peculiarly her own, and to hear suppliant voicesaround her. She would be capricious, and loved her power. Even Jack didnot count upon continued sunshine, and took what he could get with somethanksgivings. She was a presumptive heiress, and had not escaped theinflation of the purse-proud. But, on the other hand, since her returnshe had heard a good deal about the various perfections of his friend,and how well he did everything; and from what her girl friends said, shehad gleaned that Geoffrey was more in demand than would be confessed. Hewas not very desirable financially, perhaps, but hugely so because hewas sought after. This much would have been sufficient to have made heramused rather than annoyed at his cool way of assuming that she woulddevote herself to him for an unlimited time, but there was somethingmore about Geoffrey than mere fashion to account for his popularity, andthat was the peculiar influence of his presence upon those with whom heconversed.
Thus Nina, if she came to the Dusenalls with the intention of having aflirtation with Geoffrey, which the condition of her card and heracquiescence to his demands confessed, had hit upon a person who was farmore than her match, for Hampstead's acquaintanceships were not muchgoverned by rule. As long as a girl diverted him and wished to amuseherself he had no particular creed as to consequences, but merely madeit understood--verbally, at least--that there was nothing lasting aboutthe matter, and that it was merely for "the temporary mutual benefit andimprovement of both parties." This was a remnant of a code ofjustification by which he endeavored to patch up his self-respect; butnobody knew better than he that such phrases mean nothing to women whoare falling in love and intend to continue in love.
Underneath the careless tones with which he spoke to Nina there was anearnestness and concentration that influenced her. As he gravely handedback her card and caught and held her glance with an intensity in hisgray eyes and will-power in his face, she felt, for the first time withany man, that she was not completely at her ease. When obeying thewarning impulses that formerly fulfilled the offices of thought women donot often make a mistake. By these intuitions, sufficient at first forself-protection, she knew there was willfulness and mastery in him, andthat if she would be true to Jack she should return to him. If change ofmasters be hurtful to women, this was the time for her to remember aboutthe woman who hesitates. Geoffrey said, "Let us go in and have a dance,Miss Lindon," and she rose with a nervous smile and glanced across tothe place where her mother was sitting. But Mrs. Lindon had never been atower of strength to her, or she might have gone to her. She had adistinct feeling that this new acquaintance was more powerful in someway than she had anticipated, and that everything was not all right withJack's interests, and she was at one of those moments when a woman'sability to decide is so peculiarly the essence of her character,circumstances, and teaching as fairly to indicate her general morallevel. Goethe tells us "to first understand"; but if we can not know theextent of Geoffrey's influence, or how far her unknown French lineageassisted temptation, we would better leave judgment alone. Geoffrey saidsomething in her ear about the music being delicious. She listened for amoment and longed for a dance with him. Rubbish! only a dance, afterall! And the next moment she was circling through the ball-room with hisarm around her.
The band that played at the Dusenalls' was one that could be listened towith pleasure. It was composed of bottle-nosed Germans who worked attrades during the day and who played together generally for their ownamusement. In all they played they brought out the soul of the movement.It was to one of the dreamiest of waltzes that Nina danced withGeoffrey--one of those pieces where from softer cadences the air swellsinto rapturous triumph, or sinks into despair, and wooes the dancer intothe most unintellectual and pleasant frame of mind--if the weather benot too warm.
A cool night breeze was passing through the room, bringing with it thefragrance of the dewey flowers outside, and carrying off the odor ofthose nauseating tube-roses (which people _will_ wear), and replacing itwith a perfume more acceptable to gods and men--especially men.
If Jack "fancied himself" as a dancer, Geoffrey had a better right to doso. His stature aided him also, and men with retreating chins wererather inclined to give him the road. He had a set look about the lowerpart of his face which in crowds was an advantage to him. It suggestedsome _vis major_--perhaps a locomotive, which no one cares to encounter.
In two minutes after they had embarked on this hazardous voyage Nina hadbut one idea, or rather she was conscious of a pervading sense ofpleasure, that ran away with her calmer self. No thought of anythingdefinite was with her, only a vague consciousness of turning andfloating, of being admired, of being impelled by music and by Geoffrey.As the dance went on it seemed like some master power that led throughthe mazes delightfully and resistlessly.
When the music ended, for they had never stopped, she sighed withsorrow. It had been too short. She had yielded herself so completely toits fascination that she seemed like one awakening from a dream. Andthen her conscience smote her when she thought of Jack, and how in someway she had enjoyed herself too much, and did not seem to be quite thesame girl that she had been half an hour before; but these thoughts lefther as they walked about and spoke a few words together. While circlingthe long room she noticed Geoffrey bowing to a tall young lady whoselong white silk train swept behind her majestically. There was a respectand gravity in his bow which Nina, with her quick observation, noticed.
"Who is that you are bowing to?" she asked.
"That is Miss Margaret Mackintosh."
"Oh, I think she is perfectly lovely," said Nina, as she looked backadmiringly.
"So do I," said Geoffrey.
Nina turned about now with curiosity, in order to meet her again. MissMackintosh came down the room once more with a partner who was one ofthe very young persons who now are the dancing men in Toronto--calledthe "infants" by a lady
(still unwon) who remembers when there weremarriageable men to be found dancing at parties. This detrimental withMiss Mackintosh was having an enjoyable time of it. What with the beautyof his partner, her stately figure, gracious manner, and the rapiditywith which she talked to him, the little man did not quite know where hewas, and he could do little else than turn occasionally and murmurcomplete acquiescence in what she was saying, while he sometimes glancedat her active face for a moment. In doing this, though, he would losethe thread of her discourse, in consequence of his unfeigned admiration,and, as he was straining every nerve to follow her quick ideas, this wasa risky thing to do. Once or twice, seeing him turn toward her soattentively, she turned also and said, "Don't you think so?" and thenthe little man would endeavor to mentally pull himself together, andwith some appearance of deep thought would again acquiesce with unction.Certainly he thought he did think so--every time.
The close scrutiny of Hampstead and Nina did not seem to affect her asshe passed them with her face unlifted and earnest. She did not seem tohave any side eyes open to see who were regarding her. When the handsomedress that had made such a cavern in her allowance money was trodden on,she gathered it up with an active movement--not seeming to notice theunpleasantness, nor for a moment abating the earnestness of herconversation. Her idea seemed to be to prevent the dress frominterrupting her rather than to save it. One could see that, once on,the dress was perhaps not thought of again, that it was not the mainpart of her pleasure, but was lost in her endeavor to make herselfagreeable, and in this way to enjoy herself.
"I am sure she must have a very kind heart," said Nina, smiling.
"Why?" asked Geoffrey.
"Because she takes so much trouble over such a poor specimen of a man."
"Perhaps, as Douglas Jerrold said, she belongs to the Royal HumaneSociety," added Geoffrey.
As Nina could not remember being acquainted with any Mr. Jerrold, theremark lost some of its weight. The true inwardness of the old wit thatcomes down to us in books is our knowledge of the reputation of thejoker.
"And does she dance well?" asked Nina.
"No," said Geoffrey, as he still looked after Miss Mackintosh with graveand thoughtful eyes. "I don't think she has in her enough of whatGoethe calls the 'daemonic element' of our nature to dance well."
"Not very complimentary, to those who can dance well," said Nina, archlypointing to herself.
Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders, as he looked at his partner. "Somepeople prefer the daemonic element," said he. But he turned again fromthe rose to the tall, white lily, who was once more approaching them,with something of a melancholy idea in his mind that men like him oughtto confine themselves entirely to the rose, and not aspire above theirmoral level. Margaret Mackintosh was the one person he revered. She wasthe symbol to him of all that was good and pure. He had almost forgottenwhat these words meant, but the presence of Margaret alwaysre-interpreted the lost language.
"And do you admire her very much?" Nina inquired.
"I admire her more than any person I ever saw."
Sooner or later, it would have gone hard with Geoffrey for making thisspeech, if he had been any one else. But it occurred to Nina that he didnot care whether she took offense or not. He was leaning against thewall, apparently oblivious, for the moment, to any of her ideas, charms,or graces, but looking, withal, exceedingly handsome, and a thought cameto her which should not come to an engaged young lady. She made up hermind that she would make him care for her a great deal and then wouldsnub him and marry Jack.
The music commenced again.
"Come now," said Nina, gayly, "and try a little more of the daemonicelement."
Geoffrey turned to her quickly, and his face flushed as, to quoteShakespeare's sonnet, "his bad angel fired his good one out." He saw inher face her intention to subjugate him, and knew that he hadaccidentally paved the way for this new foolish notion of hers by hiscandid admiration of Miss Mackintosh.
"Have you any of it to spare?" said he, as his arm encircled her for thedance.
No verbal answer was given, but they floated away among the dancers.Here she forgot her slight feelings of resentment and retained only thedesire to attract him, without further wish to punish him afterward. Afew turns around the room, and she was in as much of a whirl as she hadbeen before. They danced throughout the music--almost without ceasing;and when it ended she unconsciously leaned, upon his arm, as theystrolled off together, almost as if she were tired. The thought of howshe was acting came to her, only it came now as an intruder. A usurperreigned with sovereign sway, and Right was quickly ousted on hisapproach. A little while ago, and the power to decide, for Jack oragainst him, was more evenly balanced; but now, how different! She waswandering on with no other impulse than the indefinite wish to pleaseGeoffrey. If she had been a man, sophisms and excuses might haveoccurred to her. But it was not her habit to analyze self much, and evensophisms require _some_ thought.
They passed through the conservatory and out to the broad walk ofpressed gravel, where several couples were promenading. Here they walkedup and down once or twice in the cool breeze that seemed delicious afterthe invisible dust of the ball-room. Nina was saying nothing, butleaning on his arm, and it seemed to her that his low, deep tonesvibrated through her--as a sympathetic note sometimes makes glassring--as if in echo.
Geoffrey was pondering where all the pride and self-assertion had goneto in this girl who now seemed so trustful and docile. Even her answersseemed mechanical and vague, as if she were in some way bewildered.
Jack, in the mean time, was elbowing his way through a crowd, trying toget one of his partners something to eat. He was the only person likelyto notice her absence, and this he did not do, and, as Geoffrey was downfor five dances, he knew no others would be looking for her. So hewalked on past the end of the terrace, and, descending some steps,proceeded farther till they came to more steps leading down into a pathdark with overhanging trees. Nina hesitated, and said she was alwaysafraid to go among dark trees, but Geoffrey said, "Oh, I'll take care ofyou." Then she thought it was pleasant to have an athlete for aprotector, and she glanced at his strong face and frame with confidence.She no longer went with him as she had danced, with her mind in a whirl,but peacefully and calmly, with no other thought than to be with him. Hetook her hand as they descended the stairs, and, though she shrank alittle from a proceeding new to her, it seemed natural enough, and gaveher a sense of protection in the dark paths. It did not occur to herthat she could have done without it. She did not notice their silence.Geoffrey, too, thought it pleasant enough in the balmy air withoutconversation. He was interested by her beauty and her sudden partialityfor him.
At length he stopped in one of the distant paths as they came to a seatbetween the trunks of two large trees. Here they sat down at oppositesides of the seat, and Geoffrey leaned back against the tree beside him.The leaves on the overhanging boughs quivered in the light of the moon,and the delicate perfume in the air spoke of flower-beds near by. Hethought it extremely pleasant here, and he laid his head back againstthe tree beside him to listen to the tinkling of the fountain and toenjoy the scent-laden night air. An idea was still with him that thiswas the girl Jack was engaged to, and he thought it would be as well tokeep that idea before him. He said to himself that he liked Jack, andthought he was very considerate, under the circumstances, for his friendwhen he took out a little silver case and suggested that he would like acigarette.
Nina did not answer him. She was in some phase of thought in whichcigarettes had no place, and only looked toward him slowly, as if shehad merely heard the sound of his voice and not the words. He selectedfrom the case one of those innocuous tubes of rice-paper andprairie-grass, and, as he did so, the absent look on her face seemedpeculiar. With a fuse in one hand and the cigarette in the other, hepaused before striking a light, and they looked at each other for amoment as he thought of stories he had read of one person's influenceover another. Like many, he had a general curiosity about strange phaseso
f mankind, and it occurred to him that Nina would make an interestingsubject for experiment. Presently he said, in resonant tones, deep andmusical:
"Do you like to be here, Nina?"
She did not seem to notice that he called her by this familiar name, butshe stood up and remained silently gazing at the moon through a break inthe foliage. Her beauty was sublimated by the white light, and, asGeoffrey took a step towards her, he forgot about his cigarette, and,taking both her hands in his, he repeated his question two or threetimes before she answered. Then she turned impetuously.
"Oh, why do you make me do everything that is wrong? I should not behere. I should never have spoken to you. I was afraid of you from thefirst moment I saw you."
Geoffrey led her by one hand back to the seat.
"Now answer me. Do you like to be here--with me, Nina?"
She looked at the moon and at the ground and all about, but remainedmute and apparently pondering.
He had forgotten Jack now as well as the cigarette, and was rapidlylosing the remembrance that this was to be merely a scientificexperiment.
"Your silence makes me all the more impatient. I will know now. Do youlike to be here, Nina?"
A new earnestness in his tone thrilled her and made her tremble. Sheturned with a sudden impulse, as if something had made her reckless:
"You are forcing me to answer you," she said vehemently, as she lookedat him with a constrained, though affectionate expression in her eyes."But I will tell you if I die for it. Oh, I am so wicked to say so, butI must. You make me. Oh, now let us go into the house."
Geoffrey's generous intention to act rightly by Jack departed from him,and for a moment he drew her toward him, saying that she must not caretoo much for being there, "because, you know," he said, "this is only alittle flirtation, and is quite too good to last."
She seemed not to be listening to him, but to be thinking; and after amoment she said, in long drawn out, sorrowful accents:
"Oh--poor--Jack!"
Something in the slow, melancholy way she said this, and the thought ofthe poor place that Jack certainly held at the present time in heraffections, struck Geoffrey as irresistibly amusing, and he laughedaloud in an unsympathetic way, which presented him to her in a newlight, and she sprang from him at once. Her emotion turned to anger asshe thought that the laugh had been derisive, and her blood boiled tothink he could bring her here to laugh at her after he had succeeded inwinning her so completely.
"Come into the house at once," she cried. "I can't go in alone even if Iknew the way."
Geoffrey rose and begged her pardon, assuring her that nothing but thepeculiarity of her remark had caused his laugh.
"I will not stay here another instant. If you don't come at once I'llfind my way alone." And she stamped her foot upon the ground.
Hampstead did not like to be stamped at, and his face altered. As longas she had been facile and pleasing, a sense of duty toward her and Jackhad made him considerate. It had seemed to him while sitting there thatthis girl was his; and the sense of possession had made him kind, butnow that she seemed to vex him unnecessarily it appeared to him like adenial of his influence. The idea of the experiment suddenly returned,together with a sense of power and a desire to compel submission whichdisplaced his wish to be considerate. He sat down on the seat againfacing her and said:
"I want you to come here." He motioned to the seat beside him.
"I won't go near you. I hate you! I'll run in by myself."
"You can not run away--because I wish you to come here."
Hampstead said this in a measured way, and his brow seemed to knot intocords as he concentrated his will-power. His face bore an unpleasantexpression. A quarter of a minute passed and she stood trembling andfascinated; and before another half-minute had elapsed she came veryslowly forward, and approached him with the expression of her facechanged into one of enervation. Her eyes were dilated, and her handshung loosely at her sides. Hampstead saw, with some consternation, thatshe had become like something else, that she looked very like amad-woman. A shock went through him as he looked at her--not knowing howthe matter might terminate. He saw that she was mesmerized--an automatonmoved by his will only. The combined flirtation and experiment had gonefurther than he had intended, and the result was startling--especiallyas the possibility that she might not recover flashed through his mind.The power he had been wielding (which receives much cheap ridicule fromvery learned men who would fain deny what they can not explain) suddenlyseemed to him to be a devilish one, and he felt that he had donesomething wrong. He had not intended it. An idea had seized him, and hewas merely concentrating a power which he unconsciously used almostevery hour of his life. He considered what ought to be done to bring herback to a normal state. Not knowing anything better to do, he walked herabout quickly, speaking to her, a little sharply, so as to rouse her.
Then, by telling her to wake up, and by asking her simple questions andrequiring an answer, he succeeded in bringing her back to something likeher usual condition. When she quite knew where she was, she thought shemust have fainted. All her anger was gone, and Geoffrey, to give thedevil his due, felt sorry for her. It had been an interestingepisode--something quite new to him in a scientific way--but uncanny.She still looked to him as if for protection, and she would have wepthad he not warned her how she would appear in the ball-room. "Oh, Mr.Hampstead, you have treated me cruelly," she said. Geoffrey felt thatthis was true enough.
"It was all my own fault, though. I do not blame you. You have taught mea great deal to-night. I seem to know, somehow, your best and yourworst, and what a man can be."
She leaned upon his arm, partly from weakness and partly because shefelt that, good or bad, he was master, and that she liked to lean uponhim. The movement touched Geoffrey with compassion. Having nothing tooffer in return, it distressed him to notice her affection, which heknew would only bring her unhappiness. He tried, therefore, to saysomething to remove the impressions that had come to her.
"You speak of good and bad in me," he said quickly. "Now I think you areso much in my confidence that I can trust you in what I am going to say.Don't believe that there is any good in me. I tell you the truth nowbecause I am sorry that we have been so foolish to-night. There is nogood in me. It is all--the other thing."
Nina shuddered--feeling as if he had spoken the truth but that it wasalready too late for her to listen to it.
He took her back into the house, smiling and pleasant to those abouthim, as if nothing had occurred, and left her with Mrs. Lindon.
But he did not go to find Margaret Mackintosh again. He went homesomewhat excited, and smoked four or five pipes of tobacco. At first hewas regretful, for he knew he had been doing harm. He said he was awhimsical fool. But after a couple of "night-caps" he began to think howpicturesque she had looked in the moonlight, and he afterward droppedoff into as dreamless and undisturbed a sleep as the most virtuous mayenjoy.