PAGE 28
Georgina’s Reasons
by
“The temper?” she stared. “Pray, what have you to do with temper?” And as he made no reply, smoothing his hat with his glove, she went on: “Years ago, as much as you please I you had a good right, I don’t deny, and you raved, in your letters, to your heart’s content That’s why I would n’t see you; I did n’t wish to take it full in the face. But that’s all over now, time is a healer, you have cooled off, and by your own admission you have consoled yourself. Why do you talk to me about temper! What in the world have I done to you, but let you alone?”
“What do you call this business?” Benyon asked, with his eye flashing all over the room.
“Ah, excuse me, that doesn’t touch you,–it’s my affair. I leave you your liberty, and I can live as I like. If I choose to live in this way, it may be queer (I admit it is, awfully), but you have nothing to say to it. If I am willing to take the risk, you may be. If I am willing to play such an infernal trick upon a confiding gentleman (I will put it as strongly as you possibly could), I don’t see what you have to say to it except that you are tremendously glad such a woman as that is n’t known to be your wife!” She had been cool and deliberate up to this time; but with these words her latent agitation broke out “Do you think I have been happy? Do you think I have enjoyed existence? Do you see me freezing up into a stark old maid?”
“I wonder you stood out so long!” said Benyon.
“I wonder I did. They were bad years.”
“I have no doubt they were!”
“You could do as you pleased,” Georgina went on. “You roamed about the world; you formed charming relations. I am delighted to hear it from your own lips. Think of my going back to my father’s house–that family vault–and living there, year after year, as Miss Gressie! If you remember my father and mother–they are round in Twelfth Street, just the same–you must admit that I paid for my folly!”
“I have never understood you; I don’t understand you now,” said Benyon.
She looked at him a moment. “I adored you.”
“I could damn you with a word!” he went on.
The moment he had spoken she grasped his arm and held up her other hand, as if she were listening to a sound outside the room. She had evidently had an inspiration, and she carried it into instant effect She swept away to the door, flung it open, and passed into the hall, whence her voice came back to Benyon as she addressed a person who was apparently her husband. She had heard him enter the house at his habitual hour, after his long morning at business; the closing of the door of the vestibule had struck her ear. The parlor was on a level with the hall, and she greeted him without impediment. She asked him to come in and be introduced to Captain Benyon, and he responded with due solemnity. She returned in advance of him, her eyes fixed upon Benyon and lighted with defiance, her whole face saying to him, vividly: “Here is your opportunity; I give it to you with my own hands. Break your promise and betray me if you dare! You say you can damn me with a word: speak the word and let us see!”
Benyon’s heart beat faster, as he felt that it was indeed a chance; but half his emotion came from the spectacle–magnificent in its way–of her unparalleled impudence. A sense of all that he had escaped in not having had to live with her rolled over him like a wave, while he looked strangely at Mr. Roy, to whom this privilege had been vouchsafed. He saw in a moment his successor had a constitution that would carry it. Mr. Roy suggested squareness and solidity; he was a broadbased, comfortable, polished man, with a surface in which the rank tendrils of irritation would not easily obtain a foothold. He had a broad, blank face, a capacious mouth, and a small, light eye, to which, as he entered, he was engaged in adjusting a double gold-rimmed glass. He approached Benyon with a prudent, civil, punctual air, as if he habitually met a good many gentlemen in the course of business, and though, naturally, this was not that sort of occasion he was not a man to waste time in preliminaries. Benyon had immediately the impression of having seen him–or his equivalent–a thousand times before. He was middle-aged, fresh-colored, whiskered, prosperous, indefinite. Georgina introduced them to each other. She spoke of Benyon as an old friend whom she had known long before she had known Mr. Roy, who had been very kind to her years ago, when she was a girl.