LITERATURE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 7755, 6 March 1905, Page 4

LITERATURE.

,• ' DB. DENE'S DIVINITY. ■' Doctor Dene was a young man who 1 by nrocb oven-study and superfluous -tramming had managed to scrape through his many exams., gain his ? f degree, aad yet bo one of the sim- £ plest men that ever ate bread and , gutter. t _,_, ;.- He had a good practoce in a iasbv *-. lonable London suburb, and although if too slhy a man—apart from bis pro's . ~ fessional character ever to mak.6 f many friends, especially among the i' lair sex, still he was universally ads' mired for his skill and integrity, - And laughed at as Well, because of sis extreme gullibility. ' Instead of growing better in this respect as -ho grew older, the doctor became rapidly worse. More dreamy, more absent-minded, more eccentric every day. Trtath to tell, Theodora Dene had fallen in love. To a serious, single-minded, shy man, such as he, this was a fearful ' calamity. He was in love without rhyme or reason either, winch made it still mere serious. His divinity, too, was the veriest tbrimp oi a thing. Wafep-waisted, bigb-beeled, always fashionably dresaod. The very sort of girl that a ..medical man, who hadn't quite forgotten all Iris anatomy, would tell you was a disgrace to civilisation. She passed bis bouse frequently, generally once a day ; and looking up at bis surgery window one morning—bcr. big -eyes had caught him peeping behind the bHud-fcad made •v conquest of him then and there. AU the years of his life—be was barely thirty now—be had ground Away at bis books and had never looked at a woman. He had had no little love affairs to knock off his basbfulness. No strolls by moonlight. No billets.doux. No bright .telegraphic eyes eve* to talk love's language with Mm. No sleepless nights. Indeed, I am half ashamed to write about such a shockingly -wasted life. " Kitty Coram—for that was the Divinity's name—was very quick to perceive—as indeed, what ordinary woman is not I— the ■ impression she made on the reticent, studious man. From a friend of hers—Gerald Tfcoracroft—she managed to glean a great deal at odd times about the doctor ; Of bis goodness, his simpleness, his cleverness. This Thorncroft had, indeed, studied for some time at the same collegs with Tboedore Dene. A man of the world, a dashing fellow was GeraM ; handsomo, passing rich, well connected, and a thoroughpaced scoundrel withal. * , He paid assiduous court to Kitty, and at flcrt. she smiled on him, alttougK, wondrous to relate, she kepi herself as straight and pure as if she had a chaperon ever at her elbow. Self-reliant, witty, ambitious Kitty did net let her morals run askew. When she beard about the dortor, thought of the security of bis poss- - the happy home he could offer a wife, a great disgust came over her for Gerald Thorncroft, with bis swagger and dash and style. "He swears he loves me. Yet he's never asked me to marry. If he did, he's drowning in debt, and would make a brute of a husband. Oh ! if I could only marry Dr. Dene." The thought grew in her mind until she could picture nothing else. Poor little divinity • She was only a chorus singer at a West End theatre. Her root** had been the same before her. Can yo« wonder that she wished for better things? Can you wonder that, born and bred behind the scenes, she grew sick and loth to lead such" a life, and wondered how it -would be when her beauty .waned ! Her head was 1 a clever as well as a * pretty one, and this is how she set Co work : One day, passing tbe doctor's house she caught him watching for her at bis surgery window, which closely over-looked the road. Just as nervous and shy; was he as any rflly ■chooS-girl when she sees her lover In church. Kitty, who was a first-rate actress, let her umbrella slip out of her hand, staggered a step or two, clutched wildly at the lamp-post, and finally fell very gracefully on the unimpressive "pavement. Dr Dene was at her side in a mo-i ment. Lifting the little figure very tenderly in his arms he bore her to his surgery. "' She has fainted ! Poor child ! " be said compassionately to his housekeeper, who had been a witness to bead, and deluged the pretty pale face with cold water. This quickly brought Kitty to, and die went, on with her acting. She was better, much better. So ashamed and sorry to have given so much trouble. Thank them both very much. She was quite ready to go now. She had not far to walk, only to Caramon Street. The doctor told a white lie for once In his life, and stuck to it like a man. " I am passing Caraman Street on a professional visit," be said. "May I offer to take yon in my carriage?" She refused very'prettily and with sweet hesitation. HaU surprised at bis own temerity, the doctor pressed the matter and over-ruled her objections. Mr» Grant tossed ber head again M the dainty little tbing went lightly down the-Steps on Dr. Dene's arm and then into Dr Dene's carriage. On the .way, Kitty was. talkative. Told the doctor all about herself. There was no mention of a theatre in her narrative though, nor anything else connected with, her real life. Just a cleverly-told high-flown little Action of fallen fortunes—a helpless orphan—no one to befriend her, and ao on. The doctor was charmed with her woes, he would have asked her ._ to marry him on the spot, if he only had dared.

She made good use of the twenty minutes' drive, you may be sure, and .when they reached Caraman Street, she gave his hand ever so slight a pressure, and said modestly : " I will ask you to set me down - al the corner. My landlady is very strict, and might be harsh to me if she saw me get out of your carriage. Unfortunately for me I am in her debt, and the world is so censorious. "- -'•' How delicate ! How thoughtful !" mused Theodore afterwards. She no more lived in Caraman Street, reader, than you or I do. But before nightfall she had secured .two top rooms in one of the faighly respectable houses there ; had cut her connection with the theatre on the plea that she was going at once jto America to join some rich relatives .• Had even borrowed £lO from Gerald Thorncroft to aid her on her voyage out< " You can pay mc how or when you like, Kiitty—in coin, or kisses, ieu\" "It won't be Kisses," said she, scornfully; and scarcely let him Jtouch her band when she said ~' Good-bye." Then Kitty was taken ill in her grand new lodgings, and Thoedore Dene attended her. You can guess the consequence. The very first day she went out of Boors, .the doctor drov4 her to church and They were very quietly married; •t Now you Imow by this time that Kitty was ambitious. Well, suppose .we skip over ten years and find her, socially speaking, at the top of the tree* Her husband ta a full-blown physician now—with a host o«letters ■ _ after his name and a title in front« Of it. .(To be continued.)