Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1907-04-13
CHAPTER XIV.

Bebe's eyes were looking at him, full
OF unutterable reproach.
Oh" she said, with little sob, show
you make me feel that was right to run
away frolS you up that hill! l knew
that if let you see me you would want
to go on helping me-to trouble yourself
about my welfare, but-but never
thought"
THAT l would carry my amiability to
the extent of saddling myself with
wifef" GARNER broke in, laughing. mo,
to tell you the truth, Mademoiselle Bebe
neither did !. Man is a selfish animal
my child, and when he asks a woman to
marry him it is generally because he
loves her better than anybody else and
wants to keep her all to himself Per-
haps too because he thinks she likes him;
so if"
"You are not selfish" said Bebe grave
ly; "and it is not possible that you can
| lo-hke me that way. What do you
know of me that is good? Nothing, alas,
except that ans wilful and imprudent
and have made myself troublesome to
| you'll" Her lower lip was trembling and
there were tears now on her cheek.
"And that l have aided and abetted
you in all these things" said GARNER
But perhaps you mean that you have
NOT known me long enough to be able to
like me-like me sufficiently to trust
yourself to my care? Is that so? Look
at me, Bebe, and tell me. Couldn't your"
He had taken both her hands and
drawn her towards him, so that he might
look into her eyes, but the confession
that he read in their limpid sweetness
was so absolutely undisguised, so inno-
Gently worshipful, that a great shame
rose in. him that even for moment any
thought of generosity on his own part
should have mingled with his offer
Involuntary his gaze dropped before
the look of unbounded trust in hers, and
he released her hands, saying quickly,
and with a catch in his breath
mo, no, forgive me; l have no bust
ness to ask you that yet 1t is true
\ on don't know anything of me yet, ex-
cept what you have been told by people
you dislike; and that you do not believe,
because have tried to help you little,
and you have a tender. grateful heart"
mo, do not" answered she steadily.
81 said so. 1t hurt me very much when
you would not tell them that was
right, and that the people who said so
proud. You thought it was beneath you
to explain yourself to rude old woman
and foolish girlf"
MAY l explain myself nowi / want
to dosso-to tell you my whole story
the very worst of me there is to hear !
I oueAt to have done SO before ever l
spoke to you of marriage. The only
question is-do you feel that you can
believe me? I tell you beforehand that
others-those who have known me from
childhood-have refused to do so; and l
have no proof to give either you or them
of my truthfulness."
Jonsieur, of course l would believe
anything you tell me- Even if you say
! you have done wrong l will believe you
not others. What does it matters
/ Doubtless you are sorry for it; and l
am sure of one thing-you would not do
wrong to little girl like mel"
"No, by Heaven!" he cried vehementlv.
"The man who would take advantage of
/ trust like yours would have to be big
ger blackguard than am; and whatever
my other faults may have been-and I'm
| not going to whitewash them. even for
| you-there is one thing of which even
my worst enemies have never been able
woman wilfully or to my own profit.
However now for my story. It will
! do you good to rest a little longer in the
shade of these trees here, while you listen
to it.
II don't remember much of my father
He was an officer in regiment, and died
while on service in India. leaving his
widow with two small children to main
b 81 cfa .J~gk
| live to grow up-and she had precious
little money to do it on. Fortunately for
my mother, however, though her husband
had been a poor man, he belonged to
very wealthy family, his uncle-a wild
over with a son-being one OF the largest
land owners in Wiltshire, with an income
of something like 412, 900 a year,
house in town and shooting box in
Scotland. Nothing could exceed the kind
ness which he and his son showed u.s. the
latter especially, for he came to South
ampton himself to meet us on our arrival
from India, and brought US down to the
Hall, where he devoted himself to doing
everything in his power to cheer my
mother, and make life pleasant for us
children, for the thKee months that the
hospitable old squire insisted on our
spending there, until my mother could
find house to ner satisfaction on the
south coast. Also my education vas
taken off her hands from the first. Cousin
Dick reminding her laughiRgly that, in
the event of anything happening to him
self, was the next heir TO the property,
and must have a decent education accord
ingly.
'Ihe possibility seemed unlikely
enough then; for he was quite a young
man, some few years my mothers ju-
NOR But, as a matter of fact, it came
about very soon; for within the next two
years tifse@e was desperate quarrel be-
tween the squire and his son; the latter
left home in a fit of passion, and not very
long afterwards died abroad, being
drowned at sea without being reconciled
to his father.
"Of course this sad event made all the
difference in the world to me, for my
-greatsuncle had no other children or neph-
ews; and as have said, was the next
kin. The news came during the holi-
DAYS, which I was spending at the old