She read it in one of the papers that were taken at the inn, and immediately it became clear to her that her whole future was at stake. For if he was crushed now by the load of family cares, if hope were taken from him, no thought of her or her love would be left. Only if she could redeem her promises and help him practically could she hope to keep him. In the farthest corner of a rarely opened drawer lay her mother's jewels which were some day to be hers--brooches and rings, a golden chain, and a comb set with rubies which had found its way--heaven knows how--into the simple inn. Without taking thought she stole the whole and sent it as merchandise--not daring to risk the evidence of registration--to help him in his studies. The few hundred marks that the jewellery would bring would surely keep him until the end of the semester ... but what then? ... And again she thought and planned all through the long, hot nights. Pastor Rhode's eldest son, a frail, tall junior who followed her, full of timid passion, came home from college for the spring vacation. In the dusk he crept around the inn as had been his wont for years. This time he had not long to wait. How did things go at college? Badly. Would he enter the senior class at Michaelmas? Hardly. Then she would have to be ashamed of him, and that would be a pity: she liked him too well. The slim lad writhed under this exquisite torture. It wasn't his fault. He had pains in his chest, and growing pains. And all that. She unfolded her plan. "You ought to have a tutor during the long vacation, Emil, to help you work." "Papa can do that." "Oh, Papa is busy. You ought to have a tutor all to yourself, a student or something like that. If you're really fond of me ask your Papa to engage one. Perhaps he'll get a young man from his own fraternity with whom he can chat in the evening. You will ask, won't you? I don't like people who are conditioned in their studies." That same night a letter was sent to her beloved. "Watch the frat. bulletin! Our pastor is going to look for a tutor for his boy. See to it that you get the position. I'm longing to see you." Chapter III Once more it was late July--exactly a year after those memorable events--and he sat in the stage-coach and took off his crape-hung cap to her. His face was torn by fresh scars and diagonally across his breast the blue white golden scarf was to be seen. She grasped the posts of the fence with both hands and felt that she would die if she could not have him. Upon that evening she left the house no more, although for two hours he walked the dusty village street, with Emil, but also alone. But on the next evening she stood behind the fence. Their hands found each other across the obstacle. "Do you sleep on the ground-floor?" she asked whispering. "Yes." "Does the dog still bark when he sees you." "I don't know, I'm afraid so."