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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Somewhere in Europe," she said, in her sweet tone. "Georgina Gressie, you 're a monster!" the elder lady cried. "I know what I am about, and you will help me," the girl went on. "I will go and tell your father and mother the whole story, that's what I will do!" "I am not in the least afraid of that, not in the least. You will help me, I assure you that you will."
Portico rose also, and, flushed with the agitation of unwonted knowledge, it was as if she had discovered a skeleton in her favorite cupboard, faced her young friend for a moment. Then her conflicting sentiments resolved themselves into an abrupt question, uttered, for Mrs. Portico, with much solemnity: "Georgina Gressie, were you really in love with him?"
Then she stood there, her back pressed against the mahogany panels, indicating only by the distance she had placed between herself and her hostess the consciousness of an irregular position. "I am not Georgina Gressie! I am Georgina Benyon, and it has become plain, within a short time, that the natural consequence will take place." Mrs. Portico was altogether bewildered.
So, when he joined his companions a minute later he remarked that he had known Miss Gressie years before, and had even admired her considerably, but had lost sight of her entirely in later days. She had been a great beauty, and it was a wonder that she had not married earlier. Five years ago, was it? No, it was only two.
It was much more shameful to be in such a state without being prepared to make the proper explanations. And she must have seen very little of her husband; she must have given him up so far as meeting him went almost as soon as she had taken him. Had not Mrs. Gressie herself told Mrs.
Georgina declared that they were meddlesome and vulgar, she could sacrifice her own people, in that way, without a scruple, and Benyon's position improved from the moment that Mr. Gressie ill-advised Mr. Gressie ordered the girl to have nothing to do with him. Georgina was imperial in this that she wouldn't put up with an order.
Georgina showed no consciousness of the change in Mrs. Portico, though there was, indeed, at present, not even a pretence of confidence between the two. Miss Gressie that was another lie, to which Mrs. Portico had to lend herself was bent on enjoying Europe, and was especially delighted with Rome. She certainly had the courage of her undertaking, and she confessed to Mrs.
For the rest, as regards a certain haughtiness that might be observed in Geoigina Gressie, my story will probably throw sufficient light upon it She remarked to Benyon once that it was none of his business why she liked him, but that, to please herself, she did n't mind telling him she thought the great Napoleon, before he was celebrated, before he had command of the army of Italy, must have looked something like him; and she sketched in a few words the sort of figure she imagined the incipient Bonaparte to have been, short, lean, pale, poor, intellectual, and with a tremendous future under his hat Benyon asked himself whether he had a tremendous future, and what in the world Geoigina expected of him in the coming years.
Benyon's eyes went back to the portrait; he could see what she meant it stared out at him. "Her? Georgina?" "Georgina Gressie. Gracious, do you know her?" It was very distinct that answer of Mrs. Percival's, and the question that followed it as well. But he had the resource of the picture; he could look at it, seem to take it very seriously, though it danced up and down before him.
It was especially during this phase of their relations that Georgina struck Benyon as imperial Her whole person seemed to exhale a tranquil, happy consciousness of having broken a law. If Mr. and Mrs. Gressie had forbidden him the house, it was not, apparently, because they wished her to walk with him in the Tenth Avenue or to sit at his side under the blossoming lilacs in Stuyvesant Square.
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