Jasper County Democrat, Volume 22, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 May 1919 — In the Dust [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

In the Dust

By DOROTHY DOUGLAS

(Copyright, I>U. by McClure N«w»p*per Syndicate.) In the lovely old home in Alost, half way between Brussels and Ghent, there was turmoil; there were whispering*, hurried searchings for treasures and hasty donning of coats and hats. The German soldiers were on their way through Belgium and M. and Mme. Victor de Paepe felt that home would be safe no longer for their beautiful young daughter, Maria. Hence they had ordered her to flee, with two of her brothers to protect her, to London, if possible. The brothers were too young for service, but they were old enough to take care of tKeir sister on the contemplated trip. “Just one moment, father,” Maria said, impatiently, “I am coming.” She was trying to hide a little box of keeje sakes In the dust pit underneath the fireplace. Surely no German raiders would find It there, and If they did — wlmt good, to them, a withered rose, a crumpled dance order, a worn Latin grammar with unformed handwriting on Its inner cover? Ami yet to Maria these things seemed to be the dearest of ail her possessions; it was to this treasure box that she flew instead of to her jewel case or to her wardrobe when the signal came that the enemy was close upon the town of Alost. Paul Nys, her playmate since early childhood, had given her the rose at her first dance. Only yesterday Paul had fled along the seashore to escape the raiders. He was of military age, but having served for a few weeks In his own Belgian army had been found not strong enough for service and had been exempted. But being of military age he was the more desirable as a prisoner in the hands of the approaching Germans. What care they that he was physically unfit? Marla wondered, even as she hurried to obey her father, where Paul , had gone. Would she ever see him again?

In a few moments she would be on her way to England, a refugee. And Paul, who had chosen the sesfShore, where would he eventually find himself? Perhaps In far-off America, thought Maria. After several days of travel by foot and by truck Maria and her two brothers found themselves crossing the channel into England. At last they found the London boarding place of which they had an address from their father. One night when she and her brothers were preparing for the evening meal she looked out of the window. “Look! Gustave! Quick, quick!” The brothers rushed to the window. “It’s Paul!” they exclaimed together.

“How tired and ill he looks,” Marla said, her voice trembling. “And hungry,” added Leon. “Hungry,” Gustave said, wistfully. “He’s come to a fine place for a hungry man, eh, Maria?” Maria looked thoughtful. “It Isn’t strange, after all, that he should have come here, is it? Father and his father both knew of this place, I remember.” So at dinner the dusty traveler, Paul, sat by his playmates and neighbors back in Alost. And how sweet Maria looked to him! He had never realized how pretty was the sister of his school friends. “But —where are you going, Paul?” asked Maria at length. “To America. I shall find work in some linen mills, for that Is all I know about.” “When do you sail?” asked Leon. “To-morrow. I have letters to a flrm in New York. They will meet me, and then I am to go to Philadelphia, wherever and whatever that may mean. But —I am thankful, to be going.” Maria’s face fell. “Are you, really, Paul?" she asked. Paul looked at her strangely for a moment. “Why —certainly, Marla. Why not?”

“I was thinking how very far it Memi from —from Aloet. Paul.” “Will you write to me, Maria?" Marla nodded. She had blushed. she knew not why. And that night, while Maria’a two brothers were out trying to supplement their society boarding house dinner by means of food purchased at a bakery. Marta, quite untrue to the bringing up of a proper Belgian girt, sat on the steps of a big London stone house and talked for an hour with a young man. In that stone house Maria learned much and Paul felt much that he had hoped he would not be compelled to feel, knowing that he must go far away. “One day you will come to America. Marla?” he half asked, half stated. “Oh, the war will be over and you will come home, Paul.” Paul shook his head. He had talked with many a wise man since coming to England, and he knew that the war would not soon be over. He pulled off his signet ring—a big. rather clumsy old gold circlet —and gave it to Maria. “Would you like to keep this—until I do come home?" “If you will keep this," Maria said, handing him her tiny ring. It barely went over the knuckle of his smallest finger. That wns all. Paul sailed for America next day. Maria went down to the soutli of England to live with some family fiends in Bournemouth. Often the little Belgian refugee sat and wound the big signet ring round and round on her slender finger and thought of Paul in far-off America — America now at war with the common enemy—and she wondered when she would see him again. She thought of her treasure box back In the dust pit in Alost. She was sentimental. One day she had a letter from her father. He had ventured to return to Belgium from Holland, whence he and his wife had fled. He had visited the wreck of their old home and had found it in unspeakable condition. Curiosity or fate had prompted him to look in the dust pit from which spot he had had such difficulty In moving his daughter nearly two years ago.

“I found your silly little box of withered rose leaves and your school book with the name of Paul Nys written all over it, Maria,” he wrote her. “Leon tells me you are corresponding with him in America. What does it mean?” This was the part of the letter that most interested Marla. She regretted the irreverent handling of her treasures, but she had now a more tangible romance to make her happy. She was now realty betrothed to Paul and the gold signet ring was the seal. She was determined to go to Paul in America and she wrote her father. With a determination no one knew she possessed, Maria got the consent of her parents, arranged for her transport, and in time sailed for New York. She was met at the boat by the same firm of gentlemen who had taken care of Paul and was welcomed into the home of the junior partner to stay until Paul could come from Philadelphia and make proper arrangements for their marriage. It had been two years since she had seen him.

The change of climate had made Paul strong, and Maria hardly knew him when at last he arrived. With the help of their new-found friends they made plans for their wedding in the tiny Belgian chapel in New York city. “It’s so strange—when I think of my sisters’ big weddings at home,” said Marla, as she turned over her wedding ring. “But —I hope you’ll be just as happy, dear, as If my family was all here to welcome you Into It,” said Paul, kissing his bride.

“Just One Moment, Father.”