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“I don’t know what your parents may have been; I know what mine are,”, Georgina replied, with some dignity. “When he’s a captain, we shall come out of hiding.”

“And what shall you do meanwhile? What will you do with your children? Where will you hide them? What will you do with this one?”

Georgina rested her eyes on her lap for a minute; then, raising them, she met those of Mrs. Portico. “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.”

“Do you mean I will support the child?”

Georgina broke into a laugh. “I do believe you would, if I were to ask you! But I won’t go so far as that; I have something of my own. All I want you to do is to be with me.”

“At Genoa,–yes, you have got it all fixed! You say Mr. Benyon is so fond of the place. That’s all very well; but how will he like his infant being deposited there?”

“He won’t like it at all. You see I tell you the whole truth,” said Georgina, gently.

“Much obliged; it’s a pity you keep it all for me! It is in his power, then, to make you behave properly. He can publish your marriage if you won’t; and if he does you will have to acknowledge your child.”

“Publish, Mrs. Portico? How little you know my Raymond! He will never break a promise; he will go through fire first.”

“And what have you got him to promise?’

“Never to insist on a disclosure against my will; never to claim me openly as his wife till I think it is time; never to let any one know what has passed between us if I choose to keep it still a secret–to keep it for years–to keep it forever. Never to do anything in the matter himself, but to leave it to me. For this he has given me his solemn word of honor. And I know what that means!”

Mrs. Portico, on the sofa, fairly bounded.

“You do know what you are about And Mr. Benyon strikes me as more fantastic even than yourself. I never heard of a man taking such an imbecile vow. What good can it do him?”

“What good? The good it did him was that, it gratified me. At the time he took it he would have made any promise under the sun. It was a condition I exacted just at the very last, before the marriage took place. There was nothing at that moment he would have refused me; there was nothing I could n’t have made him do. He was in love to that degree–but I don’t want to boast,” said Georgina, with quiet grandeur. “He wanted–he wanted–” she added; but then she paused.

“He does n’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!”

“You never will tell it. What I mean is, that Raymond wanted the sanction–of the affair at the church–because 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 of its elevation. “Would you have liked me to–to not marry?”