"Do not heed her, Bebee. She is a coarse-tongued
brute, and is jealous, no doubt."
"Jealous?--of what?"
The word had no meaning to Bebee.
"That I am not a student or a soldier, as her lovers are."
As her lovers were! Bebee felt her face burn again. Was he her lover
then? The child's innocent body and soul thrilled with a hot, sweet
delight and fear commingled.
Bebee was not quite satisfied until she had knelt down that night and
asked the Master of all poor maidens to see if there were any wickedness
in her heart, hidden there like a bee in a rose, and if there were to
take it out and make her worthier of this wonderful new happiness in her
life.
CHAPTER XIV.
The next day, waking with a radiant little soul as a bird in a forest
wakes in summer Bebee was all alone in the lane by the swans' water. In
the gray of the dawn all the good folk except herself and lame old Jehan
had tramped off to a pilgrimage, Liege way, which the bishop of the city
had enjoined on all the faithful as a sacred duty.
Bebee doing her work, singing, thinking how good God was, and dreaming
over a thousand fancies of the wonderful stories he had told her, and of
the exquisite delight that would lie for her in watching for him all
through the shining hours, Bebee felt her little heart leap like a
squirrel as the voice that was the music of heaven to her called through
the stillness,--"Good day, pretty one! you are as early as the lark,
Bebee.
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