"God the All Righteous One! Man hath defied Thee,Yet to eternity sure standeth Thy word;Falsehood and wrong shall not tarry beside Thee,Give to us peace in our time, O Lord!"
"God the All Righteous One! Man hath defied Thee,Yet to eternity sure standeth Thy word;Falsehood and wrong shall not tarry beside Thee,Give to us peace in our time, O Lord!"
"God the All Righteous One! Man hath defied Thee,Yet to eternity sure standeth Thy word;Falsehood and wrong shall not tarry beside Thee,Give to us peace in our time, O Lord!"
"God the All Righteous One! Man hath defied Thee,
Yet to eternity sure standeth Thy word;
Falsehood and wrong shall not tarry beside Thee,
Give to us peace in our time, O Lord!"
Then when the German officers were within a few yards of her, Eugenia got up and walked quietly forward. She did not go alone though, because Jan held on to her skirts so tightly that there was no possibility of tearing him loose.
"Will you wait a moment, please, until the children can be taken to another part of the yard?" Eugenia asked quietly. "Some of them are very young and will only be terrified and confused by our conversation. I think most of them are afraid of soldiers."
There was no reproach in the girl's tone as she said this. But the sting was inevitably there.
However, the older of the two officers bowed his head and Nicolete led the reluctant children away.
By this time Barbara had placed herself at one side her friend next to little Jan. And poor Monsieur Bebé, hearing the voices, had crept blindly forward to within a few feet of the little company.
In the meantime the soldiers had divided: two of them stood before the front doorand two had retired to the rear of the house. The other four guarded either side.
"You are under arrest, Fraulein," the German officer began. He was stern, but rigidly polite.
"Very well," Eugenia answered. "In five minutes I can be ready to go with you. But tell me, please, of what I am accused."
"You are accused of harboring a Belgian spy, a Colonel Carton, who got back through the lines, disguised as a German soldier and into his wife's home in Brussels. His effort was to obtain certain papers and information and then return to King Albert and the British Allies. We have reason to believe Colonel Carton is still in your house." The officer at this instant drew a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
Naturally Eugenia flinched, yet she held out her hands.
"Your intention is to search my house. You will, of course, do what you wish. But remember that I am an American citizen and under the protection of the United States flag."
Then one of the officers remained in the yard while the other led his soldiers into the house.
Ten, fifteen minutes passed. Eugenia talked quietly to Barbara. She begged her to ask permission of the hospital authorities to allow her to stay with the children. She told her where she might obtain the money for keeping up their expenses. Some time before she had written a letter giving Barbara her power of attorney. Almost every detail had been arranged.
Of course, Eugenia was frightened. She was not unlike other people, only that she had a stronger will and sometimes a finer determination.
Finally the German officer and his soldiers returned.
"We can find no trace of Colonel Carton or his wife," the younger officer reported. "However, a servant from their household in Brussels is here and I have reason to believe the two children of Madame and Colonel Carton."
Still Jan, who had never let go his holdon Eugenia, did not flinch. Not once did he even glance up toward one of the German soldiers, nor give a sign that might betray him or his protector.
"I am sorry, but you must go with us until the circumstances can be more thoroughly investigated," the older officer commanded.
A short time afterwards Eugenia went quietly away. One of the soldiers carried her suitcase. Since she marched between them and showed no intention of giving trouble, the officer had taken off the handcuffs. Evidently he meant to be as courteous as possible under the circumstances. Moreover, Eugenia's dignity was impressive.
All through the interview Barbara had felt her knees trembling so beneath her that she felt unable to stand. Her hands were like ice and her cheeks on fire; moreover, there was a lump in her throat which made her totally unable to speak.
Nevertheless, she did speak whenever a question was asked of her, nor did she shed a tear until Eugenia had gone.
It was curious, but no one broke down,not even Jan. He merely kept his hold on Eugenia's skirt until she started to leave.
Then Eugenia herself unloosed his hands. He had been on his knees before and he made no effort to get up afterwards.
Finally, when Barbara lifted the boy in her arms she found it was because he was too weak to stand.
Dick Thornton had taken lodgings in an old house in Brussels in a once fashionable quarter of the city. He had a big reception room and a small room adjoining. Recently Nona and Mildred had been coming in to have tea with him on their afternoons of leisure. They even dropped in occasionally in their daily walks. For in order to keep their health and spirits each Red Cross nurse, following the familiar rule, was given two hours off duty every afternoon.
But Barbara Meade had never seen the quarters where Dick lived. Always she had pleaded some kind of an excuse in answer to his invitations, until finally he had proffered them no more. Then for the past month she had been taking Eugenia's place in her house in the woods.
But this afternoon Barbara had madean appointment to meet Nona and Mildred at Dick's at four o'clock.
Half an hour before the time, Dick came into the house with his arms full of flowers which he had purchased from a little old woman at the corner. She had become a great friend of his, for the flower business was a poor one in a city where people had no money even for food. So today Dick had purchased bunches of wall flowers and others of columbine and larkspur. For the flowers grew in the old woman's own garden within a sheltered suburb of Brussels. She must have grown them and sold them in order that she might still continue to sit in the same place. For so far as one could know she had no other reason for her industry. She appeared to be entirely alone and friendless.
Dick's sitting room was enormous, yet almost empty. The house had been deserted by its owners early in the war. They had then removed most of their belongings to London for safe keeping, soon after hostilities broke out.
But Dick opened wide a pair of Frenchwindows until the atmosphere of the room had grown cool and sweet. He then arranged his own flowers and set out his own tea table in a somewhat clumsy fashion, drawing four chairs conveniently near. They were the only four chairs in the room and very different in character. Two of them were enormous armchairs upholstered in Brussels tapestry, the other were two small wooden ones which had probably served for the servant's dining room.
But Dick was fairly well satisfied with the appearance of things, since empty grandeur is much more satisfying than tawdry quantity.
Afterwards Dick disappeared to make an afternoon toilet.
It had been such ages since he had worn anything but the most workaday clothes. Now and then when he came in tired at night and discouraged with life from the sight of so much unnecessary sorrow, he used to slip into a smoking jacket for an hour or so. Usually several American fellows dropped in later, young doctors or other men assisting with the Belgian relief work.
But today Dick felt the occasion to be a more important one.
Barbara was coming on an errand of grave importance. Yet one might as well meet the situation as cheerfully as possible. Nothing was ever to be gained by unnecessary gloom.
It still remained a task for Dick to dress himself with one of his arms almost useless. At first it had been impossible and he had employed a man to help him. But men were needed for more strenuous labors these days than being another fellow's valet. So he had come to taking care of himself in a somewhat awkward fashion. The collar was his supreme difficulty, just as it frequently is with a man with two perfectly good arms.
Today, of course, because Dick was in a hurry, his collar behaved in a worse manner than usual. The collar button had to be searched for under the bed for nearly five minutes, and then it did not seem to fit the button-hole of the shirt.
Finally Dick sat down and began to smoke in an effort to soothe his nerves.Mildred had promised to come along ahead of time to do whatever was needed. As there was nothing more, except to adjust his tiresome neckwear, he might as well wait in peace.
But in the meantime Dick read over the note from Barbara in which she asked that the four of them might meet at his apartment. It was the one place where it was possible that their conversation be absolutely private. And what they had to discuss was a matter for gravest secrecy.
Although Dick had previously arranged his hair with much care, while reading the note he thrust his hand through it until his locks rose in brown, Byronic confusion.
So when the first knock came at his sitting room door, convinced of his sister's arrival, Dick strode to it, dangling his collar in his hand.
His appearance was not strictly conventional.
The girl at the door looked a little startled, then smiled and walked into the room without invitation.
"I suppose I am first. I didn't mean tobe," she explained. "But Dr. Mason came out to see one of the children and brought me back to town in the hospital motor car. So I got here sooner than I expected."
"I am sorry. I thought you were Mildred. I mean, I hoped you were Mildred." Dick laughed. "Sounds polite, doesn't it, what I am trying to say? But the fact is, if you'll just take off your hat or your wrap, or your gloves, why, I'll disappear for half a minute and come back with a collar on."
Barbara nodded and her reluctant host disappeared.
She was glad of a few moments to look around. It was almost homelike here in Dick's quarters, and not since leaving the little "Farmhouse with the Blue Front Door" had she enjoyed the sensation of home.
She certainly did not enjoy it at Eugenia's big house, although she was now in full charge of the establishment. For there was always the sense of Eugenia's loss and of the privations which she was enduring.
Barbara did throw her hat to one side and her coat and gloves. The freedom was pleasanter. Then, since small persons have a penchant for large chairs and large persons for small ones, Barbara seated herself in the most imposing chair in the room.
Not thinking of where she was, nor of what she was doing, she slipped one small foot under her, leaned her head against the upholstery and gazed critically around.
They were going to have tea and she was glad of it. Then she loved the presence of so many simple outdoor flowers. Probably they had been purchased for Nona's delectation, yet one could enjoy them just the same.
Besides, Barbara was by this time convinced that she had entirely recovered from any jealousy where Nona and Dick were concerned. She had seen them very seldom in the past month. But this was not because she had any more feeling in regard to the situation. It was merely because she had more important matters to engage her attention. Her talk withEugenia seemed to have cleared the emotional situation so far as she was concerned. Now her interest in Dick and Nona was purely impersonal and friendly.
Yet Barbara got up and strolled over to the tall French mantel. Yes, there was a picture of Nona on it. She had not been mistaken. Certainly Nona took an extremely pretty picture. Her features were so regular and delicate. It was rather different if one chanced to be afflicted with a retroussé nose.
Still studying Nona's photograph, Barbara heard a slight noise behind her.
There was Dick with his collar yet dangling from his hand.
"I say, which would you prefer, to talk to a man without a collar or to help him put one on? I am not going to lose all the chance I may have for seeing you in struggling with this dog-taked thing."
The girl looked demure. Then she indicated that Dick might seat himself upon the lowest stool. The next moment he was entirely ship-shape, as Barbara had also assisted in adjusting a new dark-redtie. It was of a flowing character, because Dick wore the same black velvet coat in which he had appeared before Barbara in New York City some eighteen months before. The coat was therefore not new. But Dick may have had a suspicion that it was becoming, although men are not supposed to be interested in any such trivial concerns.
However, Barbara was aware of the becomingness and was sincerely glad to discover how well her former friend looked. Certainly he had taken his share of the war's misfortunes in a courageous spirit. Once she had not believed him capable of any ideal save a social one.
Barbara had returned to her tall chair and Dick sat across from her on one of the wooden ones. The tea service stood between them, but of course they were waiting for the coming of the other two girls.
Although she had wished for her tea, Barbara did not feel impatient over the delay at present. She was trying to make up her mind whether it would be wise totell Dick how glad she was of his cheerfulness before she began to speak of her own mission. For then there would be little opportunity for cheerfulness unless one of the others had better news to report than she had.
So instead of beginning a conversation Barbara sat in entire quiet, although gazing at her companion in an extremely friendly fashion.
In the pause Dick Thornton suddenly thrust out his right hand and placed it lightly over Barbara's hand, which chanced to be carelessly lying on the table.
"I have something I'd like to tell you, Barbara, before Nona and Mildred get here," he began. "It is a secret so far and perhaps I have no right to be so happy until things are settled. But I've every right——"
The moment had come! The news that Dick had to tell her she had been expecting. Yet she had believed the announcement would first be made by Nona. It was kind of Dick to remember their former friendliness and to wish her to share his happiness so soon.
But at this instant Mildred and Nona, without waiting to knock, opened the sitting room door and Dick's confession was never made.
"But it is too dreadful for us to be able to donothing," Barbara commented. She looked dispirited and blinked resolutely at a small pocket handkerchief which lay folded in her lap.
However, she had made up her mind not to cry, no matter what happened. After all, she was a woman and not a child, and Eugenia would consider tears a most ineffective method of assistance.
She had come to Dick's apartment with every idea of being brave and had started off in that spirit. Then Dick's interrupted confession had been a trifle upsetting. Moreover, she had hoped that Dick or one of the girls would have good news to tell about Eugenia, or at least be able to make a comforting suggestion.
While she was thinking this, Nona Davis got up and began walking up and down the length of the room.
"The situation is abominable!" she exclaimed. "To think of a splendid person like Eugenia, who is so needed, shut up in a German prison! Besides, she is an American girl! It simply makes my blood boil. I wish for a short time I were a man."
Nona's cheeks were a deep rose and her golden brown eyes were almost black from emotion.
Barbara thought she looked charming. But Dick smiled upon the excited girl rather condescendingly.
"Do come and sit down, please, Nona. I know it is your southern blood that makes you long to fight. But this isn't the time for it. After all, I am a man and I haven't been able to rescue Eugenia. Of course, you would be a more effective man than I can ever hope to be. But today let us try to face the situation quietly. It is the only way we can hope to accomplish anything."
In order to take the edge off his words Dick smiled. Also he thrust a chair nearer his guest. Barbara thought theother girl sat down somewhat meekly. Never could she have taken a snubbing so gracefully. But then there was no disputing that Nona had the sweeter disposition.
Then Dick reseated himself by the tea table. After taking several papers out of his pocket he again looked over toward Barbara.
"I wish you would repeat to me, word for word, as nearly as you can, just what statement Eugenia made to you when you were allowed to see her in prison," he demanded.
His matter-of-fact tone and present cold manner entirely drove away Barbara's weak leaning toward tears.
"It was some time ago, but I'll try and repeat what Gene said exactly as possible. She said we were not to be angry or embittered over her imprisonment, because she had defied the German authorities. She declared they had a perfect right to arrest her. For shehadbeen hiding a Belgian soldier who would have been shot as a spy if he had been discovered. Itwas almost a miracle how he managed to escape. But they had been warned by a friend in Brussels a few days before, that their house was at last suspected. Actually Madame Carton and Colonel Carton both got away on the very day the German officers came for them. Eugenia would not tell how they managed their escape. She said that wasn't my business, nor any one else's."
As she repeated this speech, Barbara looked so surprisingly firm that Dick had to swallow a smile. Unconsciously Barbara was behaving like a phonograph record in reproducing the exact tones of the original speaker.
"But if Eugenia understood what she would have to face, whatever made her do such a mad thing? This Colonel Carton was absolutely nothing to her. When he returned to Brussels he took his own risk. It is natural that the Germans in command here in Belgium should be enraged. He probably carried back much valuable information to the Allies. Goodness only knows how he ever succeededin getting here, much less getting away!" Dick protested, speaking as much to himself as his audience.
Then he pounded the table with his one good hand in his agitation.
"Eugenia was out of her senses. What excuse did she have for saving the man and his family? She is an American and is a guest of the country. She had no right to aid Germany's enemies. Besides, you girls always said that Eugenia was the one of you who insisted that you remain absolutely neutral."
With this final statement Dick gazed reproachfully from one to the other of his audience.
Every day since Eugenia's arrest he had gone about Brussels seeking assistance and advice. He had seen the American Minister, the American Consul and nearly every member of the Belgian Relief Committee. But in each case his answer had been the same. Whatever was possible would be done to effect Eugenia's release. But without doubt her behavior had placed her in a difficult position.
But Dick had not been alone in his pilgrimages. Mildred, Nona and Barbara had been equally energetic. There was no person in authority in Brussels possible to see whom they had not interviewed. But Eugenia was still in prison and liable to remain there. However, she had not yet appeared for trial before the German Military Court. Her friends were doing their best to have her set free before this time came. For once her sentence was declared, it would be more difficult to secure her pardon.
Eugenia insisted that there was nothing to do but plead guilty. And this might mean months or years of imprisonment!
The three girls became more unhappy under Dick's reasoning. It was so perfectly true that there seemed nothing for them to say.
Nevertheless, Barbara flushed indignantly. Dick always inspired her with a desire for argument. Moreover, when it came to a point of defending Eugenia, she would perish gladly in her cause.
"I realize that Eugenia's conduct doesseem foolish. Perhaps it was worse than that; perhaps she was wicked to do as she did," Barbara added, no longer looking down at her handkerchief, but directly at Dick Thornton. Eugenia, she appreciated, would not require to be absolved before the other girls.
"Just the same, I think there was something beautiful and inspiring in Gene's act. She hasn't asked us to worry over her. She has declared all along that she was willing to take what was coming to her," Barbara murmured, falling into slang with entire good faith. "Her only defense is that both Colonel Carton and Jan were desperately ill when Madame Carton made the appeal to her. If she had not gone to the house in the woods to take care of them, they must have been found out. Then without a doubt Colonel Carton and perhaps Madame Carton would have been hung as spies."
An uncomfortable lump was beginning to form in Barbara's throat. For at the instant it seemed to her that Dick Thornton represented the whole tribunal ofmasculine wisdom and justice arrayed against a woman's sentiment.
How was she to make him see Eugenia's point of view?
In spite of her best efforts Barbara's eyes were filling with tears and her voice shaking.
"Gene says she never thought things out in detail, although she fully realized the risk she was running. All she decided was that Jan and his little sister should not be made orphans if she could help it. She says that ever since she put her foot in Belgium the cry of the children has been ringing in her ears. What hadtheyto do with this war and its horrors? If she could aid them in the smallest possible way, this was her work and her mission. 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these little ones, ye have done it unto me,'" Barbara whispered, and then was unable to continue.
But Mildred had risen and was standing by her side as if she were a new witness for the defense.
"I have written father the whole story,everything Eugenia has done in connection with this entire case," Mildred explained quietly. "And I have asked him to go to Washington and see the Secretary of State and the President if he thinks necessary. As soon as my letter arrived he answered it immediately, promising to do what I asked. Then he told me to see Eugenia and if it were possible to present his regards to her and to tell her to be of good courage. Of course, he could not write all he meant, as his letter might be censored, but I think I understood father's point of view pretty well."
Because Mildred Thornton did not talk a great deal, what she said was usually respected. Even Dick looked somewhat subdued.
"What do you suppose father really did mean, then, Mill?" he queried. "I confess I am so troubled and so harassed over this business of Eugenia that I am of little account. I keep regretting that she ever got herself and all of us into such unnecessary sorrow."
Mildred went over and laid her handson Dick's hair, which had again become rumpled through his agitation.
"I don't believe father thinks Eugenia's action was entirely unnecessary, Dick, even if we must all suffer with her," Mildred argued. "Perhaps Eugenia only did what any one of us would have done under the same circumstances, if we had possessed her courage and good sense. The Belgians were perfectly innocent of offense in this war. Colonel Carton was risking his life and his honor. If Eugenia could help him or his family——"
"Be quiet." It was Nona's voice that spoke, although under her breath. At the same instant she held up a warning finger.
There were persons passing in the hall outside their door. One could hear their footsteps distinctly.
Almost at once Nona got up and approached the tea table.
"Let us have tea, won't you, please, Dick?" she begged. "We are all tired and hungry and thirsty. Besides, we are discouraged." She said this even more softly, although the sounds in the hall hadceased. Doubtless the passersby were only other dwellers in the house.
Dick sighed with relief and gratitude.
"What a satisfying person you are, Nona! It would have been better, however, if you had made this suggestion half an hour ago." Then he turned again toward Mildred and Barbara.
"Please don't think I can't see that there was something fine and quixotic in Eugenia's conduct, even if I wish she had chosen differently," he added. "Truth is, I have taken the situation more seriously than ever today because I have had bad news."
Nona Davis had lifted the teapot in her hand to pour out the tea, but at these words she set it down hastily.
Mildred merely took a firmer hold on Barbara's shoulder.
"What is it, Dick?" she demanded.
This time Dick got up and floundered about impatiently.
"Oh, it may be nothing and perhaps I should not have spoken of it. But the truth is, Eugenia is ill. One of thephysicians at the prison was considerate enough to let me know. He does not think the trouble serious and says Eugenia insists she will be all right in a few days. Just the same, Eugenia has been through a lot. I don't want to be a croaker, but there was the strain of the long nursing of Captain Castaigne and then this business. One of you girls must go to her as soon as I can get you permission, if I ever can get it. Which one of you shall it be?"
From the depth of her big chair Barbara answered in a somewhat weary but steadfast voice:
"There is no question; Eugenia and I have meant everything to each other lately, and——"
"There is a question, Barbara, and you must be sensible. In looking after Eugenia's house you are doing everything you have strength for. I am sure you can't weigh a hundred pounds these days! Ever since we came to Belgium, it seems to me you have been growing tinier. After a while you may blow away," Mildred declared.
Then she marched over and, removing the teapot from Nona's hand, began pouring out the tea in a quiet and comforting fashion.
"Of course, Eugenia is not well after a month of being in prison. Why should any one of us expect her to be?" she announced. "Here, Dick, please pass this cup to Barbara and your muffins. The poor child looks utterly fagged! We ought to have thought that she has come all the way in from the country and has probably been up since daylight. She is a very little woman to live in a shoe."
Gratefully and without further protest Barbara drank her tea. She was more tired than she had dreamed and glad to be taken care of for even a short a time. How happy she was to have gotten over her former antagonism toward her friends. What right had she to be jealous and miserable because a beautiful experience had come to Nona and Dick? They were both her good friends.
At this moment Dick was whispering something to Nona, while she smiled uptoward him. There was no mistaking the expression in her eyes, Barbara felt convinced. Later on she would congratulate them, but not this afternoon; she was too tired.
Perhaps Nona became conscious of the other girl's gaze, for she drew away from her companion.
"By the way, Barbara," she exclaimed, "there is something I have wished to tell you for several days! Weeks ago when you told me you had discovered Lieutenant Hume a prisoner in Brussels, I wrote him a note. It must have taken ages for my letter to get to him. Anyhow, I received three or four lines from him the other day. I suppose it was all he was permitted to write. But he thanked me and said he was getting on pretty comfortably. Certainly I could not but admire his courage."
Dick Thornton frowned. "You don't mean, Nona, that you wrote a letter to Lieutenant Hume in prison without his asking you. I didn't suppose you knew him sufficiently well."
But before Barbara could confess thatthe suggestion had come from her, Mildred Thornton interposed.
"Don't be absurd, Dick. You are taking everything in a gloomy fashion this afternoon. I should have written Lieutenant Hume myself if Nona had not. He is in hard luck, when a single line from the outside world is cheering. We must go now. Please do your best to get me permission to visit Eugenia. In the meantime I shall see what I can do. Sorry we had to have such a dismal party tea. Hope for better news next time."
Recently Nona Davis had begun to confess to herself that she might some day be able to like Dick Thornton more than an ordinary acquaintance.
Without doubt this idea had come to her gradually, for during their early acquaintance he had simply represented Mildred's brother and Barbara's especial friend. When she thought of him at all it had been chiefly in his relation to the other two girls.
Dick was good looking and agreeable, these were obvious facts. Moreover, he had shown splendid grit and courage in his work for the poor and wounded in the present war. However, it was not until after their holiday visit together in Paris that Nona had reason to believe Dick desired her intimate friendship.
She had already left Paris and was living at the little farmhouse in southern France when he wrote begging her to tell him the details of their life together which his sister, Mildred, might forget.
The request had struck Nona as surprising. Why had he not made the suggestion to Barbara Meade rather than to her? He and Barbara had quarreled now and then before the trip to Paris and while there, but in spite of this seemed to find each other's society more than ordinarily agreeable.
Moreover, Dick probably owed his life to Barbara. Had she not rescued him from the bursting shell near their base hospital, or Dick must have carried more than a useless arm as a record of his adventure.
Nevertheless, if Dick and Barbara had chosen for reasons of their own to be less intimate, Nona could scarcely ask questions. Neither did she see how she could refuse to write to Dick Thornton if he really wished it, since her letters were merely to keep him in closer touch with the four American Red Cross girls.
Dick wrote delightful letters and so did Nona. Besides, these were days when, in spite of its tragedies, life was brimming over with interests. The letters grew more frequent, more intimate, and finally Dick spoke of his coming to Belgium. But he proposed that his coming be kept a secret until the last moment, for there might be circumstances that would interfere.
Since his arrival Nona had been frequently in his society. The fact that Mildred was partly responsible for this, she did not realize. She only knew that Barbara had persistently refused to join them in leisure hours. Therefore she and Dick and Mildred were of necessity more often together; Eugenia was entirely out of the situation. The fact that Mildred purposely left her alone in her brother's society, Nona never considered. Whenever this had occurred, she simply regarded the circumstance as an accident.
But Nona naturally felt a closer bond between herself and Dick since her confession of her own problem. Moreover,she had taken his advice and sent a letter to her family lawyer in Charleston. In this letter she demanded to be told everything that was known or could be found out in connection with her mother's history. But although a number of weeks had passed her letter had remained unanswered.
Three days after the interview in regard to Eugenia in Dick's apartment, Nona received a hurried note. The note explained that Dick Thornton had been ordered to Louvain to make an especial investigation for the Belgian Relief Committee. He asked if Nona could manage to make the trip with him. They would start early the next morning and return the same day. If it were possible for Nona to be excused from her hospital work, he was particularly anxious to have her join him.
Ten minutes after the note arrived, Nona was busy making the necessary plans.
At the hospital there were no objections offered to her being given the day'sholiday. For Nona explained that she was convinced that it would be a wonderfully interesting experience to visit the ruined city and University of Louvain.
More than the other girls she had enjoyed their journeys from place to place in Europe, when they were obliged to change their fields of work. Even when these trips had not been taken under the pleasantest conditions her enthusiasm had been able to rise above the difficulties.
When the war was over Nona hoped before going home that it might be possible for her to travel over the continent. Now and then she and Mildred Thornton had even spoken of this as a possibility in an idle fashion. For with Nona such a discussion could be nothing but idle, as she had scarcely a dollar beyond what she was able to earn as a nurse.
At ten o'clock on the chosen day Dick called for her. As soon as she joined him in the hall of the hospital, Nona recognized that Dick had seldom looked so well. Besides, he seemed somehow more vigorous and happier.
In honor of the occasion he wore what appeared to be a new suit, although it had been purchased in London soon after his arrival a number of months before.
After her first sensation of admiration Nona suffered a tiny pang of envy. How satisfying it must be to have as much money as Dick and Mildred seemed to have! They were not extravagant and yet they never had to worry over small matters. More than this, it must be a great help through life to have so distinguished a father as Judge Thornton. Whenever his name was mentioned abroad people had heard of him as a great international lawyer. Sometimes Nona wondered why Mildred and Dick should care for her friendship. The distinguished members of her family had belonged to generations that were now dead.
But today, for many reasons, Nona would particularly have liked to wear a different costume. For assuredly Dick must be as tired of the one she had on as she was herself. It was the same black dress that she had bought in Paris last spring and been compelled to use for best ever since.
True, Nona had managed to run out the evening before to one of Brussels' millinery shops, where she purchased a small black turban. Before the coming of the German military hosts to Belgium, Brussels was regarded as the small sister of Paris in matters of fashion. Since then, of course, the city had but little heart for frivolity.
However, Nona felt fairly well satisfied with her purchase. Moreover, she was pleased to discern that Dick Thornton's eyes rested upon it with immediate satisfaction. It is true that a man more often observes a woman's hat than any part of her costume.
In walking on the street you may make this discovery for yourself. A man or boy looks first at a girl's face, then if this pleases him he slowly studies her costume and figure. Frequently a woman or girl glances first at the toilette, and then if displeased never cares to look beyond for the personality.
However, Nona had but little reason for being dissatisfied with her ownappearance. She was one of the few fortunate persons who have a grace and beauty of coloring that is not dependent upon clothes. Clothes help, of course, under all circumstances, yet she could manage to be beautiful in shabby ones. Moreover, the black dress was only slightly worn and her white crepe waist had been freshly washed and pressed.
Before she arrived at the Station du Nord with her companion, Nona had the good sense to cease to consider her apparel. For since Belgium was a land of mourning, poverty was the most fitting dress.
The land between Brussels and Louvain was once an agricultural district. Since Belgium had been conquered and possessed by the Germans, they had made every effort to resow and harvest many of the fields. But the neighborhood of Louvain was still a place of desolation.
As their train carried them farther along on their journey, Nona decided that she had never seen anything like the countryside in all her experience as a war nurse. In certain parts of France wide areas hadbeen destroyed, but not far away one would often find other districts untouched by fire or sword.
Dick and Nona talked in a desultory fashion as they journeyed toward the famous old university town. One felt as if Louvain was already a city of the past. Within its suburbs there were many small ruined homes, looking as if a giant had ruthlessly pushed over whole rows of dolls' houses. For Louvain was formerly one of the lace-making centers of Belgium, and in these small houses dark-eyed women and girls once worked long hours at their trade.
Before their arrival Dick decided that he must first attend to his business in Louvain. Afterwards they would feel freer to prowl about and investigate the ruins of the University. It would not be necessary to hurry then, as there would be no reason to return to Brussels until after dark.
Dick's pilgrimage to Louvain had been inspired by the desire to discover a family of Belgians supposedly starving in one ofthe city's wrecked homes. The father was known to have been killed at the sacking of Louvain. Yet in some amazing fashion the mother and children had continued to exist for nearly a year without money and almost without food. The American Relief Committee, learning their need, had despatched Dick to see what could be done for them.
Just what the character of the place he was to seek, nor the conditions surrounding it, the young man did not know. Therefore, he considered it wiser for Nona to wait for him. So he led her into the interior of the ancient Church of St. Pierre, where she was to remain until his return. The church had been only slightly injured by the burning of the city.
As a matter of fact, Nona was glad to be allowed to rest there peacefully for a time. Although she was an excellent nurse, she was not so successful in making friends with unfortunate people as the other three Red Cross girls. So she feared that Dick might consider her more of a drawback than a help to him in his work.The girl was frank enough to confess to herself that she wished to make a good impression.
An old church is ever a citadel of dreams. Yet Nona had not the faintest intention of letting her imagination wander into unbounded realms when she first found a seat in the semi-darkness.
Simply from curiosity she had gone into one of the chapels behind the high altar. Here she discovered five paintings, depicting the life and death of the blessed Margaret of Louvain, the patron saint of domestic servants.
At first Nona was simply amused and interested, for it had not occurred to her that domestic servants had a saint of their own.
Then without realizing it she fell to thinking of her own old home in Charleston, South Carolina, and of the southern "mammy," who had been more than her own mother to her.
It was strange that her lawyer in Charleston had not yet answered her letter. Perhaps she would ask Dick his opinion again.However, Nona felt a curious shrinking from this idea. For if Dick was beginning to feel interested in her, surely the mystery of her mother's history must influence him against her.
At the same instant the girl's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Then she deliberately struggled to discover a different train of thought. But for some reason, no matter along what road her thoughts set out, they had a curious fashion of including Dick before the end was reached. So at last Nona gave up and let her imagination have its will.
When he came back an hour after their usual luncheon time, Dick found her not in the least impatient. She insisted that she had enjoyed herself, and her face and manner gave proof of it.
But Dick was tired and not so cheerful as he had been earlier in the day. His work was over temporarily, but he had found a most depressing state of things among his poor people. Moreover, Dick was hungry, when a masculine person is always difficult.
They discovered a little restaurant existing in a half-hearted fashion near the University. After a leisurely meal, it must have been past three o'clock when finally the two friends made their way into the University grounds.
The buildings were not all entirely destroyed by the German bombardment, as the newspapers gave us to understand after the fall of Liege. Possibly many of them can be restored when the present war is over.
Up and down the Rue de Namur the young Americans wandered, first investigating the ruins of the handsome Gothic Halles. The Library is perhaps the most complete wreck, and it was one of the most valuable libraries in Europe. For it contained many priceless manuscripts gathered together by the old monks, who were once teachers in this most famous Catholic university in Europe.
The University of Louvain was founded in the fifteenth century by Pope Martin V, and only a little over a year ago sheltered eighteen hundred students.
But they have disappeared even as the bricks and mortar of the centuries have been brought to confusion.
Finally after nearly two hours of sightseeing Dick and Nona confessed to each other that they were too weary to feel any further interest in their surroundings. Moreover, they were obliged to rest before returning to the railroad station.
Nothing could be more romantic than the spot they chose.
With a half tumbled down wall for a background and a tall tree for a screen, a small green bench lingered serenely. It was as comfortable and undisturbed as though no destruction had raged about it.
With a sigh of relief Dick dropped down beside his companion.
"If you don't mind, I'd rather not speak for five entire minutes," he suggested. "Afterwards perhaps I may tell you something about which I have been thinking more or less all day. But I am not yet convinced that I ought to mention it to you, though with all my heart I wish to know what you think and feel upon the subject."
In reply Nona only nodded agreement.
Then she folded her hands in her lap and sat gazing quietly at the unique scene about them.
In a little while twilight would fall. The atmosphere was already a pale violet and over the massed ruins of the ancient buildings the sun was declining peacefully. Except for the girl and her companion the neighborhood was deserted, not a man, woman or child, not even a dog could be discovered in the nearby streets.
After a little while the silence between the girl and man grew self conscious. Both of them seemed to recognize this at the same moment, and Dick turned apologetically toward his companion.
"I am sorry to continue so stupid," he explained, "but I have been thinking something over for the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time."
In spite of the coolness of the October afternoon Dick now took off his hat and in a boyish fashion ran his fingers through his hair. Immediately the curly pompadour he so detested arose, while under his dark skin the color was rushing in warm waves.
"I say, Nona," he began in an awkward fashion, his charming manners entirely deserting him, "has it ever struck you that I have had something very much atheart for the past few months, something I have not been able to mention? It has seemed to me as if the whole world must know of it, although I have never spoken a word. Yet even Mildred has appeared totally blind. Of course there was a reason once why I should keep my dream to myself, but lately that reason no longer exists." Then Dick laughed unexpectedly.
"Here I am talking like a school-boy who does not know his lesson! I don't suppose you have the faintest idea of what I am trying to say? Wonder if you have ever guessed my secret, Nona?"
Dick had swung himself around on the bench so that he might be able to gaze more directly at his companion. But Nona Davis' head was for the instant in profile.
Just then she preferred not to catch Dick's glance. Her own cheeks were delicately flushed and indeed the world had acquired a new fragrance. Yet oddly Nona wished to hug her emotion to herself.
There is a moment when the spirit of romance appears to every girl in somelovely guise. Now Nona Davis felt that no moment and no scene could be more picturesque than her own.
Dick Thornton was ideally handsome; moreover, the fact that one of his arms was now useless only added to his value. For was not Dick a soldier of peace rather than of war, yet one who had made the same sacrifice? And he had given himself for a cause that was not his own.
"No, I have not guessed, Dick," Nona replied an instant later. "How could I? If you have a secret you have certainly not betrayed yourself. Besides, if I had been able to discover what you had in mind, I should not have allowed myself to know. No one has the right to interpret another person's thoughts."
Nona made this speech with entire innocence, but she was to recall the last phrase within a few moments.
"Well, I'll start off with a piece of news I am sure you will be pleased to hear," Dick began. "I wanted to tell Barbara first, but we were interrupted the other afternoon. It is only that I think I am tohave better luck with this lame arm of mine than I deserve. When I was in Paris the surgeons told me to leave it alone, that I stood a chance of being able to use it later on. So I tried to forget the whole matter. Then one day several weeks ago without thinking I discovered that I could use my arm the least bit. Of course, it is by no means well, but each day the arm grows stronger——"
With this news Nona stretched out her hand toward her companion. But Dick did not see her, as he chanced to be gazing at his afflicted arm in the half tender, half apologetic fashion in which one surveys a backward child.
"The doctors I have seen since I made the discovery say my arm will be as good as new in another few months," Dick went on. "I have only to have it massaged daily and wait for the vigor to come back. So I may be able to amount to a little something in the world after all. Perhaps a man with a lot of brains may manage to get along with no arms, but I'm afraidIrequire the full amount."
By nature Nona Davis was inclined to be serious. Therefore she could never understand the fashion in which Barbara and Dick were able to jest over their deeper emotions.
Her yellow-brown eyes were serious now.
"I am sureIhave never doubted your future for a moment, Dick. It sounds ridiculous to hear you make a speech like that. I am sure your father is a distinguished man, yet I feel sure you will be a greater one some day."
For half a moment Dick smiled upon his companion. "You are an optimist, Nona, but just the same I am tremendously grateful to you."
Then in a surprising fashion his gay spirits suddenly deserted him. For he frowned moodily toward the purple and rose colored sky on the far western side of the horizon.
The sun was by this time about to retire and the colors in the evening sky were merely the garments she had cast off in passing.
"I wish you could persuade BarbaraMeade to share that idea of yours, Nona?" Dick continued a moment later. "If you could you would be doing me an immense service."
"Barbara?" Nona repeated her friend's name dully. She was so far away from any thought of her at the time that it was difficult to readjust her point of view. "What is it you wish me to persuade Barbara to believe?" she demanded the next instant. For in her surprise she had forgotten her own remark.
"Oh, that I am worthy of bearing my father's name and that there is a chance I may not turn out a hopeless good-for-nothing," Dick went on, with a scarcely concealed bitterness in his voice.
"Two years ago when I first met Barbara I suppose I was only a society fellow, but really I was not so bad as I painted myself. Fact is, I rather enjoyed arousing Mildred's little western friend in the early days. Well, I accomplished my purpose with a vengeance, for Barbara has never had an ounce of respect for me. Even if you and Mildred have never guessed howmuch I care for her, the fact has been plain enough to Barbara. What other reason could she have, except to spare me humiliation, for refusing to have anything to do with me since I came to Brussels? But you have understood the situation better than you confess, Nona. Be sure that I appreciate your kindness immensely."
Still Nona made no reply. However, as Dick had been holding his emotions in check for many weeks, he was glad now to have a chance to let them overflow.
"I appreciated that you understood when I first asked you to write me, after you left Paris," the young man continued. "Your letters meant so much to me, for they used to tell me so many things of Barbara and your life together in the little French farmhouse."
Interrupting himself, Dick glanced at his watch and then at his companion.
"You look tired, Nona, and I am sorry, but I expect we must hurry if we are to get to the station in time for the six o'clock train to Brussels. You have beenwonderfully patient with me this afternoon and I hope not too bored. Perhaps I should have kept all this to myself, but at last it has overflowed. I shall never refer to the matter again and shall be grateful if you do not mention it."
Dick held out his right hand to help his companion arise.
But for another instant Nona did not stir. Neither did she glance upward. Her eyes had dropped to her lap and were evidently fastened upon her slender hands, which she held lightly clasped together.
Possibly she had become a shade paler, but not by a flicker of an eyelash did she betray that her house of cards had suddenly fallen.
The next moment she gave her hand to Dick and got up.
"I am not tired, so let us walk on quickly if you think best. I am going to be honest and tell you, Dick, that I have never dreamed you were seriously interested in Barbara until this hour. I knew you were friends at one time and that Barbara had done a beautiful thing for you. ButI thought you had probably quarreled, or that you did not find each other so interesting as you had at first."
The girl was walking along swiftly as she talked.
Her delicate chin was lifted a little higher than usual and because of her pallor her lips showed a deeper crimson. She was a lovely height and slender and graceful, but beyond everything else she had the air of perfect breeding.
Dick's own train of thought was diverted for a moment by a glance at her.
"After all, it is not an impossibility, Nona Davis' mother may turn out a foreign princess," he thought, and then smiled. For Dick was a typical American man and to him a mystery in one's family was ridiculous when it was not unpleasant.
On the train returning to Brussels neither he nor his companion cared to talk a great deal. Indeed, Nona frankly explained that there was something she wished to think about, and if Dick did not mind, would he please leave her alone. So he was satisfied to continue sympathetically silent.
He had unloosed certain thoughts of his own which were not so easy to chain up again.
However, they still had a half hour before their arrival in Brussels when Nona unexpectedly returned to their former subject of conversation.
"You asked me never to refer to your confession, Dick, and I won't again after today. But first I must tell you something. Then if you'll forgive me I want to offer you a piece of advice. I know it is an ungrateful present, but you'll listen, won't you?" Nona pleaded.
Dick's brown eyes were very friendly. "I'll listen to whatever you wish to tell me forever and ever," he insisted. "For there was never quite so kind an audience as you have been to me!"
The girl was glad of the flickering lights in the railroad carriage, when she spoke again.
"It is only that I have been thinking of you and Barbara ever since we left Louvain," she added. "I told you I was surprised at the news. But now I think it was stupid of me. What I want is toask you to tell Barbara what you have confided to me this afternoon. I understand that when you were uncertain about your arm, you may have felt that a drawback. Now you have every right to believe in your recovery and"—Nona hesitated and smiled directly into Dick's somber brown eyes—"oh, well, it is only fair that Barbara be allowed the same information that I have received under the circumstances!"
At this moment it was Dick who would not be humorous.
"I suppose you think I ought to give Barbara the satisfaction of telling me what she really thinks of me. But I am afraid I am not willing to amuse her to that extent."
Nona shook her head. "That wasn't worthy of you, Dick; I know you did not mean it. I am not going to give up. I want you to promise me that whenever the chance comes you will let Barbara have some idea of your feeling for her."
This time Nona held both her hands tight together.
"I can't explain to you, Dick, so please don't ask me why," she continued. "But I have been thinking that there may be another reason why Barbara has seemed less friendly with you since your arrival in Brussels. Girls sometimes get strange ideas in their minds. But there we are coming into Brussels. Thank you for my day in Louvain, I shall not forget it!"
Perhaps it was due to Nona Davis' advice, or perhaps to Dick Thornton's own judgment, that he decided to make his position clear to Barbara.
He had no thought of her returning his liking; nevertheless, a confession appeared the more manly and straightforward.
But beginning the next day's events moved ahead so swiftly that there was never a chance for Dick to carry out his intention.
By noon a message was sent him by his sister Mildred. She explained that soon after breakfast she had been summoned to the German prison for a consultation in regard to Eugenia Peabody. She found the prison officers both embarrassed and annoyed.
For the young American woman whom they had been compelled to arrest hadbecome dangerously ill. They had not been prepared for such a contingency. She had been locked up in what had formerly served as an ordinary jail in Brussels and there were no accommodations for seriously ill persons.
They could not determine what should be done. It was extremely awkward to have their prison doctor declare the prisoner a victim of typhoid fever, and to have the physician sent from the American Relief Committee confirm his opinion.
Suppose this Miss Peabody should be so inconsiderate as to die? The fact might arouse international complications and would certainly precipitate unpleasant discussion.
The young woman had been kept a prisoner for something over a month without a trial, but even in this time important pressure had been exerted for her release.
Because she had been an American Red Cross nurse, naturally all Red Cross societies were interested. Moreover, she was said to be a member of an old and prominent New England family, who wouldmake themselves heard in her behalf. Then as this Miss Peabody was herself wealthy and had been using her money for the benefit of the Belgian children, what might not be said in her defense? There was a chance that the German government would be accused of resenting her care of the Belgian children.
In order to show their good feeling, Mildred had been permitted to visit Eugenia. She found her friend in a small room like a cell. It was of stone with only one window, a stool and a cot bed.
But whatever Eugenia must have suffered for her breach of faith, she was now past being disturbed by mental unhappiness.
For an hour Mildred sat beside her friend trying to arouse her. But Eugenia gave no sign of recognition. She did not seem to be enduring pain, but was in a stupor from fever.
Mildred felt unhappy and helpless. There was but little chance of her friend's recovery if she remained without the right care. Moreover, the American Red Crossgirls owed it to one another to keep together through good and evil fortunes.
"What would Eugenia have done for one of them under the same circumstances?" Mildred tried her best to decide. She implored the prison authorities to allow her to remain and care for her friend. But they refused. It was not that they were unwilling for their prisoner to be properly looked after. It was that there were no arrangements whereby it was practical for Mildred Thornton to continue at the prison. She could come each day and stay for a time with her friend. And this was, of course, a surprising concession.
So after Mildred returned to her own quarters she had sent a note of explanation to her brother.
Then began the most anxious week that the American Red Cross girls had endured since their arrival in Europe. Before now anxiety had harassed one or two of them at a time. Now they were all equally concerned.
Eugenia did not grow better. From dayto day the report of her condition became worse. Mildred Thornton was the only one of the three girls ever allowed to enter Eugenia's room at the prison. However, Nona and Barbara hovered about the neighborhood like restless ghosts. Indeed, they now appeared as deeply attached to each other as in the early days of their acquaintance.
Nor was Dick Thornton much less anxious. He had always liked and admired Eugenia. Although he disapproved her action in regard to Colonel Carton, it was not possible wholly to object to it. One had to have a sneaking sense of appreciation for a girl or man who would risk so much for an entire stranger.
However, interest in Eugenia's condition was not confined to her few friends. In a little while her case became the most talked of in Brussels among the Americans and their acquaintances. Then the news of Eugenia's arrest and the reason for it appeared in the American daily papers together with the account of her critical illness. Afterwards these facts were copiedin the newspapers of England, France and Russia. Eugenia became an international figure.
Now and then Barbara tried to smile, thinking how Eugenia would have resented her notoriety had she been aware of it. But the idea did not create much mirth. It was so far from amusing to picture one's friend at the point of death, shut up in a tiny room, with only such crude care as the prison physician and nurse could give her.
The situation was unendurable; nevertheless, like a great many other situations about which one says thissamething, it had to be endured.
The German officials in command of the city of Brussels assuredly grew weary of visits from white-faced American girls and their friends, all bent upon the same quest. Was it not possible that Eugenia be removed to a hospital or to her own home until she recovered?
The answer remained the same. Much as the situation was to be deplored, one could not surrender a prisoner because of ill health. Discipline must be enforced.
Then a day came when Mildred and Dick Thornton were granted an unexpected interview with the American Minister in Brussels. They had seen him several times before, but on this occasion it was the Minister who sent for them.
He had previously been kind and interested in Eugenia's case, but so far his good will had not availed in her behalf. He could only offer his good will, because it was not possible to demand the prisoner's liberation when she had frankly confessed her offense against the German administration.
Yet as soon as they were permitted to enter the study where the Minister was seated at his desk, Mildred Thornton had her first moment of hopefulness. For Mr. Whitlock had become her friend since this trouble began and his expression indicated good news.
"There was no use going into particulars," he declared, "but some days before he had received certain letters from Washington. It appeared that Judge Thornton had been to Washington in Eugenia'sbehalf, according to his daughter's request, where he must have interviewed persons of importance." Whatever took place the American Minister now announced that he had placed Judge Thornton's communications before the proper German officials. Whether they were influenced by these letters, or whether they concluded that there was more to be lost than gained by detaining their prisoner under the present conditions, it is impossible to say. The important fact was that Eugenia might at last be moved to her own house. There she was to be allowed to stay under guard until such time as she could safely leave the country. She would then be conducted to the border line of Holland and allowed to depart. But Eugenia Peabody was never again to set foot within a German country during the course of the present war. If she should enter it she would immediately become liable to arrest.
So in spite of the possible danger Eugenia was immediately removed to her own house in the woods, the house supposedly inhabited by a ghost.
But instead of ghosts it was now haunted by the other three Red Cross girls, all of whom insisted upon sharing the labor of caring for Eugenia and looking after her home.
Yet after all it was on Barbara Meade that the largest share of the burden fell. For the children had grown accustomed to her since their first friend's departure. Then by a freak of chance Eugenia seemed to wish Barbara near her the greater part of the time. She was not conscious, so her desire was only an eccentricity of illness. Nevertheless, Barbara naturally tried to be with her friend whenever it was humanly possible.
So it is easy to see why Dick Thornton found no opportunity to confide to Barbara the dream that lay so near his heart. He saw her now and then, of course, in his own frequent visits to the household, but seldom alone.
Occasionally, when for a moment he had a chance for a quiet word with her, Dick was not willing to intrude his own desires.