to that degreebut I don't want to boast, said Georgina, with quiet grandeur. He wantedhe wanted she added; but then she paused.
He doesn't seem to have wanted much! Mrs. Portico cried, in a tone which made Georgina turn to the window, as if it might have reached the street. Her hostess noticed the movement and went on, Oh, my dear, if I ever do tell your story I will tell it so that people will hear it!
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You never will tell it. What I mean is that Raymond wanted the sanctionof the affair at the churchbecause he saw that I would never do without it. Therefore, for him, the sooner we had it the better, and, to hurry it on, he was ready to take any pledge.
You have got it pat enough, said Mrs. Portico, in homely phrase. I don't know what you mean by sanctions, or what you wanted of 'em.
Georgina got up, holding rather higher than before that beautiful head which, in spite of the embarrassments of this interview, had not yet perceptibly abated its elevation. Would you have liked me toto not marry?
Mrs. Portico rose also, and, flushed with the agitation of unwonted knowledgeit was as if she had discovered a skeleton in her favourite cupboardfaced her young friend for a moment. Then her conflicting sentiments resolved themselves into an abrupt question, implying, for Mrs. Portico, much subtlety: Georgina Gressie, were you really in love with him?
The question suddenly dissipated the girl's strange, studied, wilful coldness; she broke out, with a quick flash of passiona passion that, for the moment, was predominately anger, Why else, in heaven's name, should I have done what I have done? Why else should I have married him? What under the sun had I to gain?
A certain quiver in Georgina's voice, a light in her eye which seemed to Mrs. Portico more spontaneous, more human, as she uttered these words, caused them to affect her hostess rather less painfully than anything she had yet said. She took the girl's hand and emitted indefinite admonitory sounds. Help me, my dear old friend, help me, Georgina continued, in a low, pleading tone; and in a moment Mrs. Portico saw that the tears were in her eyes.
You are a precious mixture, my child! she exclaimed. Go straight home to your own mother and tell her everything; that is your best help.
You are kinder than my mother. You mustn't judge her by yourself.
What can she do to you? How can she hurt you? We are not living in pagan times, said Mrs. Portico, who was seldom
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so historical. Besides, you have no reason to speak of your motherto think of her evenso! She would have liked you to marry a man of some property; but she has always been a good mother to you.
At this rebuke Georgina suddenly kindled again; she was, indeed, as Mrs. Portico had said, a precious mixture. Conscious, evidently, that she could not satisfactorily justify her present stiffness, she wheeled round upon a grievance which absolved her from self-defence. Why, then, did he make that promise, if he loved me? No man who really loved me would have made it, and no man that was a man as I understand being a man! He might have seen that I only did it to test himto see if he wanted to take advantage of being left free himself. It is a proof that he doesn't love menot as he ought to have done; and in such a case as that a woman isn't bound to make sacrifices!
Mrs. Portico was not a person of a nimble intellect; her mind moved vigorously, but heavily; yet she sometimes made happy guesses. She saw that Georgina's emotions were partly real and partly fictitious, that, as regards this last matter especially, she was trying to get up a resentment, in order to excuse herself. The pretext was absurd, and the good lady was struck with its being heartless on the part of her young visitor to reproach poor Benyon with a concession on which she had insisted, and which could only be a proof of his devotion, inasmuch as he left her free while he bound himself. Altogether, Mrs. Portico was shocked and dismayed at such a