It was only three days later that Grover received an invitation to
dine at Professor Bornholm's. He had spent the intervening period in
meditation concerning Mrs. Bornholm's curious behavior. That she had
something on her mind was obvious, and he had no doubt that he would
to-day discover what it was. He felt confident that she had been
plotting against him and had some dramatic surprise in store for him.
As he rang the door-bell he had need of all his _sang froid_ to quiet
his turbulent heart. He was admitted to the inner sanctuary and was
greeted with studious cordiality by the three goddesses. They seemed
all agitated and expectant, though they were striving to appear
unconcerned. They lounged and chatted as people do in the introductory
scene of a play, with hidden reference to some plot which has yet to
be disclosed. To all appearances the plot had some connection with the
door to the Professor's study, which, contrary to custom, was closed.
Minchen repeatedly threw furtive glances at it, and Roeschen made her
determination not to look at it equally conspicuous; only Gretchen was
frankly curious and made no effort to disguise it. A strange sense of
the unreality of the whole scene, himself included, crept over the
young man; he felt like a man in a play who can murder or make love
with equal irresponsibility. He was about to indulge in the latter
diversion, when suddenly the mysterious door opened, and the Frau
Professorin entered with much dramatic _eclat_, leading a lovely
dark-eyed young girl by the hand. The eyes of the three goddesses grew
as big as saucers, and Roeschen pressed her hand to her heart and
nearly fainted from excitement.
"Mr. Grover," said the Frau Professorin, making a most elaborate bow,
"allow me to present--Miss Jones."
Under ordinary circumstances the introduction to Miss Jones would have
been an agreeable incident in Mr. Grover's career, and nothing
further. He had met, he did not know how many hundred charming young
ladies, several of whom had borne the name of Jones, and he had never
been in the least disconcerted. In the present instance, however, he
showed but imperfect control of his emotions. A guilty blush sprang to
his cheeks, and he groped vainly in his embarrassment for the proper
phrase wherewith to express his pleasure at making the lady's
acquaintance. Miss Jones, too, somehow, seemed ill at ease, and gazed
at him with flaming cheeks and a puzzled, half-anxious look in her
eyes. The Frau Professorin, who had probably expected a different
denouement, looked disappointed, and the goddesses whispered to each
other and tittered.
"You will excuse me for a few moments," said the Frau Professorin;
"the house needs my attention."
Having learned all that she wished to know, she could afford to be
generous. It was plain that the goddesses had displaced Miss Jones in
her lover's heart. Hence his annoyance and embarrassment. She could
well appreciate his position and in her heart she began to relent
toward him. Miss Jones had evidently, under the pretence of studying
music, come to Leipsic, to look after her recreant adorer, whose
silence had begun to alarm her. The goddesses, too, who had been
initiated into the secret, arrived at similar conclusions, and
proceeded to dislike the innocent Miss Jones with much vehemence. It
was but with reluctance that they heeded their mother's significant
scowl and withdrew in her wake.
"Perhaps," said Miss Jones, drawing a breath of relief as the last of
the trains vanished in the doorway, "perhaps you would now have the
kindness to tell me what this comedy means."
Grover lifted his eyes and gazed at her; she was surpassingly lovely.
A pair of frank, dark American eyes, half humorously challenging, put
at once his embarrassment to flight, and made him feel a delicious
nearness and kinship to their fair possessor.
"Miss Jones," he said, answering promptly the humorous gleam in her
eyes, "I shall have to make you a regular confession. I didn't have
the remotest idea of your existence."
"Nor I of yours," she responded quickly; "but what has that got to do
with the comedy?"
"Everything. You know, I invented you."
"_You_ invented me?"
"Yes, in my dire need, in order to escape from matrimonial
persecutions, I invented a _fiancee_ in America named Miss Jones. But
to be frank, I did not expect you to take me at my word, and turn up
over here, in order to regulate my conduct."
"Oh, I see it all," cried Miss Jones, merrily. "You are in the
position of a novelist whose heroine suddenly steps out of the book
and takes him to task for his fictions."
"But I hope you won't prove a hard task-master," he retorted, gayly.
"In consideration of my generosity in making you beautiful and rich,
you ought not to betray me."
"Do you mean that I ought to remain your _fiancee_?" she asked,
laughing. "I think that is to ask too much of my indulgence."
"You are at liberty to break with me whenever you choose; but until
further notice allow the family to suppose that they are right in
their conjecture. You need simply say nothing about it. You know our
engagement is secret, and we are not expected to show how fond we are
of each other."
"That is very fortunate. However," she continued, lightly, as if
pleased with the absurdity of the thought, "my fondness for you will
probably never demand any very extravagant expression."
"No, but mine may," was his daring reply; "therefore, perhaps, as a
measure of self-defence, you ought to break with me at once. Make a
scene of some sort, revile me; do anything you choose, only so that
the eavesdroppers, who are sure to misunderstand everything except
vehemence, get a notion that we have been engaged, but are so no
more."
Miss Jones, who had seated herself in the sofa-corner, leaned her head
in her hand and meditated.
"Do you know," she said, raising the same pretty head abruptly, "your
proposition is a very original one? I wonder if a girl was ever before
requested to break with a man to whom she had never been engaged.
However, Mr. Grover, I am not quite as accommodating as you think. On
the whole it suits my purpose very well to be engaged. I have come
here for study and have no desire to be courted by students or
musicians, of whom there is said to be quite a colony here."
It was now Grover's turn to be amazed. He stared at the sweetly demure
and sensible little face in bewilderment.
"Then you mean to--you mean to say----" he stammered.
"Yes, I mean to say," she finished, suppressing the little mischievous
gleam in her eye, "that I prefer not to break with you. We will remain
engaged."
The young man's countenance fell. He began to look unhappy; perhaps
Miss Jones was an unscrupulous adventuress who would turn the joke
into earnest and sue him for breach of promise after they got home.
To be sure, she looked as innocent as an angel, but it is a notorious
fact that women are just the most dangerous in that guise. In escaping
Scylla he had plunged headlong into Charybdis. He got up with a
painful sense of indecision, walked toward the window, and concluded,
after a moment's thought, that he could not, as a man of honor,
withdraw from a bargain which he had himself proposed. It would be
wiser to abide by it, and to trust to his own ingenuity to extricate
him at the proper moment.
"Miss Jones," he said, rather ceremoniously, "I thank you for your
kindness."
"Not at all," she retorted, carelessly; "it is an arrangement for
mutual convenience. But remember," she added, lifting her index finger
in playful threat, "that we are extremely well-bred and
undemonstrative."