“Well, you can guess my motive,” he whispered, looking tenderly at her.
“Such stuff and nonsense! I never heard of such a thing in my life,” said Jane, and ran away, plainly understanding that he had disguised himself in order to obtain admission to the college and enjoy the happiness of looking at her.
“Cursed fool that I am!” he said to himself; “I cannot act like a rational creature for five consecutive minutes.”
The servant led him to the study and announced, “The man, if you please, ma’am.”
“Jeff Smilash,” he added in explanation.
“Come in,” said Miss Wilson sternly.
He went in, and met the determined frown which she cast on him from her seat behind the writing table, by saying courteously:
“Good-morning, Miss Wilson.”
She bent forward involuntarily, as if to receive a gentleman. Then she checked herself and looked implacable.
“I have to apologize,” he said, “for making use of your name unwarrantably this morning—telling a lie, in fact. I happened to be skating when the young ladies came down, and as they needed some assistance which they would hardly have accepted from a common man—excuse my borrowing that tiresome expression from our acquaintance Smilash—I set their minds at ease by saying that you had sent for me. Otherwise, as you have given me a bad character—though not worse than I deserve—they would probably have refused to employ me, or at least I should have been compelled to accept payment, which I, of course, do not need.”