, fortunately--whom she had picked up in a poor
village in Italy,--a village that had been devastated by brigands. She
would pretend--she could pretend; oh, yes, of course, she could pretend!
Everything was imposture now, and she could go on to lie as she had
begun. The falsity of the whole business sickened her; it made her so
yellow that she scarcely knew herself in her glass. None the less, to
rescue the child, even if she had to become falser still, would be in
some measure an atonement for the treachery to which she had already
lent herself. She began to hate Georgina, who had drawn her into such an
atrocious current, and if it had not been for two considerations she
would have insisted on their separating. One was the deference she owed
to Mr. and Mrs. Gressie, who had reposed such a trust in her; the other
was that she must keep hold of the mother till she had got possession of
the infant Meanwhile, in this forced communion, her aversion to her
companion increased; Georgina came to appear to her a creature of brass,
of iron; she was exceedingly afraid of her, and it seemed to her now a
wonder of wonders that she should ever have trusted her enough to come
so far. 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. Portico that she had left Raymond
Benyon, and meant to continue to leave him, in ignorance of what had
taken place at Genoa. There was a certain confidence, it must be said,
in that. He was now in Chinese waters, and she probably should not see
him for years.

Mrs. Portico took counsel with herself, and the result of her cogitation
was, that she wrote to Mr. Benyon that a charming little boy had
been born to him, and that Georgina had put him to nurse with Italian
peasants, but that, if he would kindly consent to it, she, Mrs. Portico,
would bring him up much better than that. She knew not how to address
her letter, and Georgina, even if _she_ should know, which was doubtful,
would never tell her; so she sent the missive to the care of the
Secretary of the Navy, at Washington, with an earnest request that it
might immediately be forwarded. Such was Mrs. Portico's last effort in
this s