t 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 're a queer 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 must n'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 so historical "Besides,
you have no reason to speak of your mother--to think of her, even--so!
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 queer 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 him,--to see if he wanted to
take advantage of being left free himself. It is a proof that he does
n't love me,--not as he ought to have done; and in such a case as that a
woman is n'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 Georgia'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 want of simplicity in the behavior of a
young person whom she had hitherto believed to be as candid as she was
elegant, and her appreciation of this discovery expressed itself i