Geoffrey Hampstead: A Novel. Jarvis Stinson
art course in Paris and a musical course at Leipsic, they wandered about until nearly two years had elapsed, when they suddenly suspected that Mr. Lindon preferred that they should be away, upon which they returned at once.
Whether Nina came back "in love" with Jack was a question as to which he made many endeavors to satisfy himself. The ability to live up to the verb "to love" in all its moods and tenses is so varied, and the outward results of the inward grace are often so ephemeral that it would be hazardous to say what particular person is sufficiently unselfish to experience more than a gleam of a phase that calls for all the most beautiful possibilities. It is not merely a jingle of words to say that one who is not minded to be single should be single-minded.
Let us pass over the difficult point and take the young lady's statement for what it was worth. She said, of herself, that she was in love with Jack. He had extracted this from her with much insistence, while she aggravatingly asserted at the same time, that she only made the admission "for a quiet life," leaving Jack far from any certainty of possession that could lead to either indifference or comfort.
Two or three proposals of marriage which she had while away had evidently 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, if they ever had been made, served to turn Jack's daily existence into alternations of hot and cold shower-baths. One day she would talk about a Russian she had met in Paris. Then she solemnly gave the history of her walks and talks with a naval officer in Rome, till Jack's brow was damp with a cold exudation. But when it came to the delightful appearance of Colonel Vere, and the devotion he showed when he took her hand and asked her to share his estates, Jack said, with his teeth clinched, that he had had enough of the whole business – and departed. He then spent two days of very complete misery, barometer at 28°, until she met him and laid her hand on his arm and said she was sorry; would he stop being a cross boy? that she had only been teasing him, and all the rest of it; while she looked out of her soft dark eyes in a way that left 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 yet he had not felt that he could afford to divide her society with anybody. What with the rich Russian, the naval officer, and Colonel Vere – what with getting into agonies and getting out of them – it took him pretty nearly all his time to try to straighten matters out. So Geoffrey's introduction had not been mentioned further by him, except to Nina, who was becoming curious to see Jack's particular friend and Admirable Crichton. The opportunity for this meeting seemed about to offer itself in the shape of an entertainment where all those who remained in Toronto during the summer would collect – one of those warm gatherings where the oft-tried case of pleasure vs. perspiration results so frequently in an undoubted verdict for the defendant.
The Dusenalls were among those wise enough to know that in summer they could be cooler in Toronto, at their own residence, with every comfort about them, than they could possibly be while stewing in an American hotel or broiling on the sands of an American seaport. They objected to spending large sums yearly in beautifying their grounds, merely to leave the shady walks, cool arbors, and tinkling fountains for the enjoyment of the gardeners' wives and children. In the thickness of their mansion walls there was a power to resist the sun which no thin wooden hotel can possess; therefore, in spite of a fashion which is somewhat dying out, they remained in Toronto during the hot months, and amused themselves a good deal on young Dusenall's yacht.
Their residence was well adapted for such a party as they were now giving, and the guests were made to understand that in the afternoon there 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 as human nature could stand the strain; and if any had got too old or too corpulent or too dignified to play tennis, they could hardly get too much so to look on; or, if this lacked interest, they could walk about the lawns and gardens and converse, or, if possible, make love; or listen to a good military band while enjoying a harmless cigarette; and if they liked none of these things they could never have been known by the people of whom this account is given, and thus, perhaps, might as well never have been born.
The men, of course, played in their flannels, which a few of them afterward changed in Charley Dusenall's rooms when there was a suspension of hostilities for toilets. Most of them went home to dinner and appeared later on for the dancing. People came in afternoon-dress and remained for tea and through the evening in that attire, or else they 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 their light tennis dresses, and others had their maids come with ball dresses. Of course the majority came late – especially the chaperons, the heavy fathers, starchy bank-managers, and such learned counsel as scorned not to view the giddy whirl nor to sample the cellars of the Dusenalls.
Mrs. Lindon arrived with her daughter late in the evening, when everything 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 no more to give away – so sorry! – card quite filled! She told dancing fibs in a charming manner that seemed to take away half the pang of disappointment. This was a field-day, and the discarded ones could receive more notice on some other, smaller occasion.
To see Jack and Nina dancing together was to see two people completely satisfied with themselves. As a dancer, Jack "fancied himself." He had an eye for calculating distances and he had the courage of his opinions when he proposed to dance through a small space. As for Nina, she was the incarnation of a waltz. Her small feet seemed as quick as the pat of a cat's paw. In watching her the idea of exertion never seemed to present itself. There is a pleasure in the rhythmic pulsations of the feet and in yielding to the sensuous strains of the music (which alone seems to be the propelling power) that is more distinctly animal than a good many of our other pleasures; and Nina was born to dance.
At the end of Jack's first dance with her, Geoffrey came idling through the conservatory, and entered the ball-room close beside the place where Mrs. Lindon was seated with several other mothers. As the last bars of the waltz were expiring, Jack brought up at what he called "the moorings" with all the easy swing and grace of a dancer who loves his dance. The act of stopping seemed to divide the unity in trinity existing between his partner, himself and the music, and it was therefore to be regretted, and not to be done harshly, but lingeringly, if it must be done, while Nina, as he released her, came forward toward her mother with her sleeveless arms still partly hanging in the air, and with a pretty little trip and slide on the floor, as if she could not get the "time" out of her feet. Her head was slightly thrown back, the eyelids were drooped, and the lips were parted with a smile of recognition for Mrs. Lindon, while her attitude showed the curves of her small waist to advantage; so that the first glimpse of Nina that Geoffrey received was not an unpleasant one. She seemed to be moving naturally and carelessly. She was only endeavoring to make the other mothers envious, when they compared her with their own daughters. Such wiles were part of her nature. When feeling particularly vigorous, almost every attitude of some people is a challenge – males with their bravery, females with their graces – and, whatever changes the future may develop in the predilections of woman, there may for a long time be some left to acknowledge that for them a likable man is one who is able to assert, in a refined way, sufficient primitive force to make submission seem like conquest rather than choice.
Jack at once introduced Geoffrey – his face beaming while he did so. He was so proud of Nina. He was so proud of Geoffrey. Nina was blushing at having Hampstead witness her little by-play with her mother at the conclusion of the dance – but not displeased withal. Jack thought he had never seen her look so beautiful. And Geoffrey was such a strapper. Jack surveyed them both with unbounded satisfaction. He slapped Hampstead on the arm, and tightened the sleeve of his coat over his biceps, patting the 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 they talked together.
"Well, he patronizes me a good deal," said Geoffrey. "But don't you think he looks as if he wished to find his next partner? Suppose we give him a chance to do so; let us go off and discuss his moral character."
He went away with Nina on his arm, leaving Jack