Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-03-02
BEBEE
 or, TWO LITTLE WOODEN SHOES.

LOOT anu SIt" liSi LsAAid tLtte "s&o inr the flax and iook it in his own and , strol;cd it indulgently and carelessly, as man may stroke the soft fur of young cat. 1 Leaning against the little lattice and look ! ing down on her with m,lsing eyes, half smli- inc, half serious, half amorous, half sad Be bee looked up with sudden and delicious ,srror that ran through her as the charm of the snakes gaze runs through the bewildered bird.
 Would you cease to wish if it were not goodr' he asked again. Bebeo's face grew pale and troubled. She left her hand in his because she did not think any shame of his taking it. But the question suddenly flung the perplexity and darkness of doubt into the cl,arness of her pure chlld's conscience All her ways had been straight and sunlit before her. She had never had Q divided duty.
 The religion and tho pleasure of her simple little life had always gone hand in hand, greeting one another, and never for an in- stant in conflict In any hesitation Of her own she had always gone to Father FTcncis, and he had disentangled tho web fo- her and made all plain
 But here was a difficulty in which she could never go to Father Francis
 Right and wrong, duty and desire were for the first time arrayed before her in their ghastly and intending warfare. l ITlSnISneu ucI Nlth d SSltttlti sense of peril-the peril of time when in lieu of that gentle Mother of Roses whom she kneelcd to among thaflowers, she would only see dusky shadow looming between her and the beauty of life and the light of the sun.
 What he said was quite vague to her. She attached no definite danger to his words. She only thought-to sec him was great a joy if Mary forbade it, would she not take it if she could notwithstanding, always, al ways, always!
 He kept her hand in his, and watched with contentment the changing play of the shade and sorrow. the fear and fascination, on her face.
 ''You do not know Bebce!' he said at length knowing well himself; so much better than ever she knew. "Well, dcar-that is not flatteriug to ne. But it is natural. The good Virgin, of course, gives you all you have, food and clothes and your garden, and your pretty plump chickens-and l am only | a stranger You could not offend her for me that is not likely"
 | The child was cut to the heart by the sad | ness and humility of words of whose studied artifce she had no suspicion. She thought that she seemed to him un- l grateful and selfish, and yet all the mooring l ropes that held her little boat of life to the harbor of its simple religion seemed cut away Silll Sue SSSuleo LII Ill ASlOieSS eauo | rudderleSS upon an unknown sen.
 'I never did do wrong-that 1 know," she said timidly, and lifted her eyes to his with | an unconscious appeal i'll them | 'But-I do not sec why it should be wrong l to speak with you. You are good, and you lend me beautiful things out of other men's minds that will make mo less ignorant; Our Lady could not be angry with that-she must l like it."
 "Our Lady !--oh, poor little simpleton'- | where will her reign be when Ignorance has once been cut down, root and branch!' he thought to himself; but he only answered.:
 But whether she like it or not, Bebee?- you beg the question, my dear; you are-you are not so frank as usual-thinll, and tell me honestly?'
 He knew quito we'll but it amused him to sec the perplexed trouble that this, the first divided duty of her short years, brought with it.
 Bebee locked at hi.:, and looscaed her hand from his and sat quite still Her lips had a little Quiver in them.
 1T think" sho said at last, II thiall-if it Do wrong, still l wish it-yes. Only will not tell myself it is right. I will just say to Cur Lady, I am wicked perhaps, but I can not help it.. Sol will not deceive her at all, and perhaps in ti;.lo she may forgive. But thinl, you only say it to try me. It cannot, an sure, be NrOiis,-GE.ly more than it is to talk to Jeannot CT to BacH
 Ho had driven her into the sybtleties of doubt, but tho honest little soul in her found a way out, flower ill a cellar finds its way through tho stones to light.
 Ho pluckcd tho ivy leaves and threw then, at the chickens the bricks without, with a certain inpaticnco in the action. The sim plicity and tho d;rectncss of the answer dis armed him; he was almost ashamed to use against her the weapons of his habitual war fare. It was like a nlaitrc darmes fencing with barc steel against little naked child armed with blest palm shcaf
 When she had thus brought him all she had, and he to please her lad set down to the simple food, sho gathered o spray of roses and set it in pot beside him, thcn left him and went and stood at ittlo distance, wait ing, with her hands lightly crossed on hel chest, to sec if there were anything that he might want
 He ate and drank well to please her, look. ing at her often as he did so.
 II break your bread Beboe," he said, with a tonc that seemed strange to her. Il breal your bread. I must keep Arab faith witt | you."
 "What is that:'
 '1 mean-I mustnevei bctray you"
 ''Betray me! How could your"
 ''Well-hurt you in any way An, l am sure you would never do that.
 He was silent and looked at tho spray O. roses.
 Sit down and>spin,' h. sail i,npajiently II am ashamed to seq you stand thl--c and woman never looks wei as when si.c pins Sit down-and will est th> good things 70, have brought mo. But cannot if you stand and look"
 Il beg your pardon, did not l,;ow," sh said, ashamed lest sho slculd have seemed rude to him; and sine drew out her wheel un der the light of the lattice, and sat down t. it, and began to disentangle the threads. It was pretty picture-the low, sauar , easement; the frame of ivy, the pink an, white of the climbing sweet peas; the girl head; the cool, wet leaves; the old woode spinning wheel, that purred like a sleepy cat
 II want to paint you Gretchen only ]. will be a shame, he said.
 "Who is Gretchenp'
 ''You shall read of her by and by. An
 you live hero all by yourselfs"
 "Since Antoine died-yes." SSApd ara pey;,r 6ul1lS