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.