him not to suspect the truth,
"No, sir." He persisted, and she confessed everything.

"Well," he said, "dearest, don't feel badly about it. There never
was such another girl. I'll get your watch for you. Hereafter when you
need anything I want you to come to me. Do you hear? I want you to
promise me that. If I'm not here, I want you to write me. I'll always
be in touch with you from now on. You will have my address. Just let
me know, and I'll help you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Jennie.

"You'll promise to do that now, will you?'

"Yes," she replied.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

"Jennie," he said at last, the spring-like quality of the night
moving him to a burst of feeling, "I've about decided that I can't do
without you. Do you think you could make up your mind to live with me
from now on?"

Jennie looked away, not clearly understanding his words as he meant
them.

"I don't know," she said vaguely.

"Well, you think about it," he said pleasantly. "I'm serious. Would
you be willing to marry me, and let me put you away in a seminary for
a few years?"

"Go away to school?"

"Yes, after you marry me."

"I guess so," she replied. Her mother came into her mind. Maybe she
could help the family.

He looked around at her, and tried to make out the expression on
her face. It was not dark. The moon was now above the trees in the
east, and already the vast host of stars were paling before it.

"Don't you care for me at all, Jennie?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"You never come for my laundry any more, though," he returned
pathetically. It touched her to hear him say this.

"I didn't do that," she answered. "I couldn't help it; Mother
thought it was best."

"So it was," he assented. "Don't feel badly. I was only joking with
you. You'd be glad to come if you could, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would," she answered frankly.

He took her hand and pressed it so feelingly that all his kindly
words seemed doubly emphasized to her. Reaching up impulsively, she
put her arms about him. "You're so good to me," she said with the
loving tone of a daughter.

"You're my girl, Jennie," he said with deep feeling. "I'd do
anything in the world for you."

CHAPTER VI

The father of this unfortunate family, William Gerhardt, was a man
of considerable interest on his personal side. Born in the kingdom of
Saxony, he had had character enough to oppose the army conscription
iniquity, and to flee, in his eighteen