Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-07-20
CHAPTER III,

Mrs. Portico. as we know. was always
talking about going to Europe; but she
had not yeti mean year after the Incl
dent have just related-put her hand
upon youthful cicerOne. Petticoats, Of
course, were required: il was necessary
that her companion should be Of the sex
which sinks most naturally upon benches
IN galleries and cathedrals, and pauses
most frequently upon staircases that as
cend TO celebrated views. She was a
widow, with a good fortune and several
sons, all of whom were in Wall street, and
none OF them capable Of the relaxed pace
at which she expected to take her foreign
tour. They were all in a state of tension;
they went through life standing. She was
short, broad, high-c0lored woman, with
a loud voice, and superabundant black
hair, arranged in way peculiar to her.
selt-W1th so many combs and bands that
it had the appearance of a national Golf
fure. There was an impression in New
York, about 1915, that the style was DAN
ish; some one had said something about
having seen il in Schleswig- Holstein.
Mrs. Portico had bold, humorous, slight
" fiamboyant look; people who saw her
Tor the nrst time received an impression
that her late husband had married the
daughter Of barkeeper or the proprie-
tress OF menagerie. Her high, hOarse,
go0d-natured voice seemed TO connect her
in some way with public life; it was not
| pretty enough to suggest that she might
have been an actress. These ideas quickly
/ passed away, however, even if you were
not sufficiently initiated to know-as all
the Gressies, for instance, knew so we'll
/ that her origin, so far from being enYel-
| Oped in mystery, was almost the sort of
I thing she might have boosted Of But in
I spite of the high pitch Of her appearance,
/ she didn't boast of anything; she was
! genial, easy. comical, irreverent person,
I with large charity, a democratic, frat
ernizing turn of mind, and a contempt
/ for many worldly standards, which she
/ expressed not in the least in general axi-
/ Oms for she had mortal horror Of phi
! lOsOphy), but in violent CALCULATIONS on
/ particular occasions. She had not grain
/ of moral timidity, and she fronted deli
/ cate social problem as sturdily as she
would have barred the way of a gentle
man she might have met in her vestibule
/ with the plate chest. The only thing
which prevented her being bore in or
thodOX circles was that she was incapable
Of discussion. She never lost her temper,
! but she lost her vocabulary, and ended
quickly by praying that heaven would
give her an opportunity to sholv what she
| believed. She was an old friend OF Mr..
and Mrs. Gressie, who esteemed her for
the antiquity of her lineage and the ire
Q
she rendered the service of making them
feel liberal-like people too sure OF their
own position to be frightened. She was
their indulgence, their dissipation, their
point Of contact with dangerous heresies;
so long as they continued to see her they
could not be accused of being narrow
minded-a matter as to which they were
perhaps vaguely conscious of the neces-
sity of taking their precautions. Mrs.
POrtcO never asked herself whether she
liked the Gressies; she had no disposition
for morbid analysis, she accepted trans
mitted associations, and she found some
how that her acquaintance with these
people helped her to relieve herself. She
was always making scenes in their draw
ing-room, scenes half indignant, half 10
cOse, like all her manifestations, to which
it must be confessed that they adapted
themselves beautifully. They never met
her in the language Of controversy; but
always collected to watch her, with smiles
and comfortable platitudes, as if they en-
We'd her superior richness of tempera-
ment. She took an interest in Georgina,
who seemed to her different from the
others, with suggestions about her OF
being likely not to marry so INCREASINGLY
as her sisters had done, and of high,
bold standard of duty. Her sisters had
married from duty, but Mrs. Portlco
would rather have chopped off one
of her large, plump hands than
behave herself as well as that. She
had, in her daughterless condition, a GER
tain ideal of girl that should be beauti-
full and romantic, with lustrous eyes, and
a little prosecuted, so that she, Mrs. Por-
tico, might get her out of her troubles.
She looked to Georgina to a considerable
degree, to crafty her in this way; but she
had really never understood GeOrgina at
all. She ought to have been shrewd, but
III I IL,
understood anything until after many dis
appointments and veXations. 1t was
difficult to startle her, but she was much
startled by communication that this
young lady made her one fine spring
morning. With her florid appearance
and her speculative mind, she was prob
ably the most innocent woman in New
York.
Georgina came very early-earlier even
than visits were paid in New York
thirty years ago; and instantly, without
any preface, looking her straight in the
face, told Mrs. POrtico that she was in
great trouble. and must appeal to her for
assistance. Georgina had in her
aspect no symptom of distress;
she was as fresh and beautiful as
the April day itself; she held up her
head and smiled, with a sort Of familiar
brayado, looking like young woman who
would naturally be on good terms with
fortune. 1t was not in the least in the
tone of a person making a confession or
relating a misadventure that she pre-
sently said: ''Well, you must know, to
begin with-of course, it will surprise
you-that Pm married"
Married, Georgina Gressie" Mrs.
Portico repeated in her most resonant
tones.
GeOrgina got up, walked with her
majestic step across the room, and closed
the door, Then she stood there, her
back pressed against the mahogany
panels, indicating only by the distance
she had placed between herself and her
hostess the consciousness of an irregular
position. '1I'm not Georgina Gressie-
I'm Georgina Benyon-and it has become
plain, within a short time, that the natu-
raj consequence will take place."
Mrs. Portic0 was altogether bewildered.
"The natural consequence" she eX-
claimed, staring.
''Of ones being married, Of course-I
suppose you know what that is. No one
must know anything about it. / want
you to take me to Europe
Mrs. Portico now slowly rose from her
place, and approached her visitor, look
ing at her from head to foot as she did so,
as tito challenge the truth of her remark
able announcement. She rested her
gazing into her blooming face, and then
she drew her closer ana kissed her. In
this way the girl was conducted back to
the sofa, where, in a conversation of eX-
treme intimacy, she opened Mrs. Portieo's
eyes wider than they had ever been
opened before. She was Raymond Ben
yon's wife, they had been married year,
but no one knew anything about it. She
had kept it from every one, and she
meant to go on keeping it. The ceremony
had taken place in a little Episcopal
Church at Harlem, one Sunday afternoon,
after the service. There was no one in
that dusty suburb who knew them; the
clergyman, vexed at being detained, and
wanting to go home to tea, had made no
trouble; he tied the knot before they
could turn round. 1t was ridiculous how
easy it had been. Raymond had told him
frankly that it must all be under the rose,
as the young lady's family disapproved
of what she was doing. But she was of
legal age, and perfectly free; he could
see that for himself. The pars0p had
given grunt as he looked at her his
spectacles. 1t was not very com hen-
tary; it seemed to say that she was indeed
no chicken. OF course she looked old for
a girl; but she was not girl now, was
she? Raymond had certified his own
10, fTx-a Of In Init ad of