THE BOOKWORM.

Otago Witness, Issue 2509, 16 April 1902, Page 74

THE BOOKWORM.

By Gilbert Dayle. (He was quit© a young bookworm, 30 at She Wside, slightly built, with pale, intellectual features, and the stooping shoulders of the student. ■ ' He sat in the garden of his villa at IBeaulieu, a charmingly secluded spot, shut Toff from the outside world by a thick belt Tof trees and bushes. It was a glorious a cloudless sky, and the air was charged with the delicious softness of the 'Mediterranean ; at the back of the villa the Alpes Maritimes rose to majestic iheights, their slopes gleaming in the sunshine. But the bookworm noticed none of these tilings. -He was poring over a French (philosophical work he had picked up the day before at Nice, and apparently was entirely absorbed in its perusal. . Presently the sound of a voice in the ,villa, singing a gay little air from one of the comic operas, caught his ear, and glancSng across the "lawn he saw a man step out on to the verandah. He was young and good-looking, a picture of health and Irigour. He vaulted lightly over the verandah rail, and, alighting on the lawn, crossed over to the shady snot where the hookworm sat. ' He surveyed him curiously for a moment, then broke into a good-humoured laugh. "Jove, but it's rummy, Steve!" he exclaimed. "To think "that you came into all that money, and could do jolly well what you pleased, fend instead you go through life sitting at your books, and seeing nothing. 'And I, cut off with a begarly five hundred a year, have all the desire, and no opportunity!" The two were first cousins, both sons of rich men. Meredyth had inherited his property, but Leicester, offending his father by some boyish indiscretion, had been left •with a few hundred a year. They had both been to Eton and college together, and although their tastes and dispositions •were as far apart as the poles, Meredyth Lad always felt an admiration for his .bright, strong cousin, who was for ever in difficulties, yet managed to enjoy life to the full. "I've had a pretty rough time, Steve, 'during the last three years," continued (Leicester, "and if you hadn't pulled me Jthrough I should have gone under. I can never thank you enough, old man !" he fedded gratefully. "But it's going to be all right now,' he rattled on. "When I came and planted •myself in this old villa with you, I never dreamt of the luck that was coming to me! To think that almost at my very door was one of the sweetest girls imaginable — with an income of her o-srn_ into the bargain. A marriage like this- is the one thing that can save me — and I think I've done it ! I feel she loves me, Steve ; En a day or so I shall ask hei. And she fs just splendid! Oh, I forgot, you don't pay any attention to girls !" he broke off, laughing. "No, I don't pay any attention to giil%" repeated the bookworm slowly. Leicester pulled out his watch. "No idea it was so late!" he exclaimed. ''I shall have to run to catch the train. X said I'd meet the Garths opposite the fletee Promenade at 1. Wish you were coming — so-long, old chap !" 1 He vanished, and with a sigh Meredyth turned to his book again. Presently — it must have been half an hour afterwards — fee heard a slight sound behind him. He turned his head and saw a pretty young girl standing on the lawn a few feet away. 6he was smiling at him, and holding a book out. A "Am I trespassing — breaking the thread »f thought?" she said, mischievously. "Sir 'John asked me to return this book to you." "Oh, thank you! Won't you take a Beat, and stay a little?" he cried eagerly. Then suddenly he paused, and a slightly troubled expression crossed his face. "And how is it you haxen't accompanied £ir John and your aunt? George has just started — he will be terribly disappointed!" "What a pity!" she said calmly, seating herself. "I thought he understood I wab not going — I never care for motor races Very much." "He will be terribly put out/ he murmured. She glanced at him demurely. "You are very attached to Mr Leicester, are you not?" she said innocently. "Yes, I like George," he cried enthusiastically. "I think he's a splendid fellow, •o bright, so " he paused for a word. "So different to you .'" she put in quietly. He gave a slight start, then looked at her " steadily for a moment. She seemed to be positively radiant in her young beauty. fie sank down into a seat and turned his head way. "Yes, very different from me," he said Blowly. "You see, I have done nothing in the arena — have just sat through life and read." "And will it always be the same — to the end of the chapter?'' she said softly. "You will never want anything bdyond your books and the life of a recluse?" He raised his head ; for a moment their eyes met. He felt the blood throb through his veins, but he was blind — he did not Understand, never guessed that it was poslible. "Yes — to the end. My life has room for nothing else, and I am quite content, 1 ' he Baid with a queer smile. There was the sound of a quick step on jbhe path, and the next moment Leicester's voice was heard. "Lost that beastly train by half a minute, Steve! I shall have to drive in. I can't miss a day with her." He stepped on to the lawn and caught sight of the girl. She had risen swiftly from her seat, and there was a. touch of •olour^ on h&c^skejkjfc

. "Why," cried Leicester in amazement, "you didn't go after all?" She shook her head. "And Sir John and your aunt are at Nice? Oh, what luck, what terrific luck!" exclaimed Leicester boyishly. "You must come for a walk with, me — you really must ! You see, old Steve simply hates any interruption in his reading, and here we are, right in his way!" The girl looked across at Meredyth ; there was a little gleam in her eye. "Yes, we must not be in his way," she said with a laugh. They went ' off, and Meredyth watched them disappear. "She loves him — and it is natural! He is so splendid, so full of life, whilst I — yes, it is quite right !" he added, with a deep sigh. During the days that followed he kc-pt more to himself "than ever, devoting him- ; self to his reading with feverish energy. He saw little of his cousin, who spent mos* of his time at the Garths'. Then, late one night, h!e came out of his study and stood on the verandah. It was a perfect moonlight night, and the air was delightful. He looked across the lawn and saw Leicester striding restlessly up ard down. He left the verandah and joined him. I "I had no idea you had returned, George," he said. "Why, what's the matter?" he added quickly, noting the frown on the other's face. Leicester flung himself into a garden chair and laughed bitterly. "My infernal luck again !'" fc<- cried. "There has been a sudden crash in her father's old firm, and she has lost every penny of her money. The Garths beard of it for the first time to-day, and Sir John told me. "It was fortunate I had not proposed to her," lie continued swiftly. "Heaven knows, I am sorry enough for her, but, of course, the whole thing is impossible now !" "You will give her up?" said Meredyth. "What the devil can I do, Steve?" said Leicester, almost irritably. "If I had the money I would marry her to-morrow ; but I haven't, so what's the good of talking? The only thing is for me to clear out." "Do you think she loves you?" a&ked Meredyth slowly. Leicester looked up at his cousin. "Yes, I do," he said. "But there's nothing to be done !"' Meredyth left him and walked the length of the lawn by himself. His face was deadly pale, and he was thinking haid. He came back to Leicester. "Yes, there is something to be done — listen!" he said quietly. "You know what my life is ;• I am practically a recluse — I spend absurdly little in comparison with my means." He paused. "You have had hard luck. I Avant you to stay and propose to Rosalie as if nothing had happened — as if the loss of her money made not the slightest difference. If you will do this I will allow you a fourth part of my income" ; he finished abruptly. Leicester started to his feet in amazement. Meredyth silenced him with a gesture. "It will mean practicdlly nothing to me," he continued hurriedly. "The Garths know nothing of your position, and you need never tell them — she will never know !" "But, man alive," broke out Leicester. "What on earth makes you propose such an unheard-of piece of generosity ?'\ Meredyth gazed at him for a moment, then lied bravely. "It seems rather hard for you to lose every chance," he said quietly. "I always thought you were unfairly dealt with — that it was an irony of Fate that I, who did not want it, should have so much, and you sc little. lam trying to restore the balance," he finished with a smile. Leicester looked at him in wonder. "But it's just splendid of you, Steve — just one of the things you would do !'' he broke out warmly. "To-morrow night I'll ask her to be my wife. Jove, Steve, it may seem a conceited thing to say, but in doing this for me, I think you have secured her happiness as well." "Then I have done a good night's woik!" replied Meredyth thoughtfully, and, turning on his heel, he vanished. He had, but it was not quite of the nature he had planned. The thing that happened during the next few days filled him with wonder, and it was not until a week later that he sought an explanation. It was in the afternoon, and the girl was with him. They weie pacing the lawn of his villa. He glanced at her nervously. "Now that George has returned to England I want to know why you refused him?" he asked in a low tone Instinctively they had .stopped and faced one another. "I did not care to be a pensioner,"' she said simply. He looked at her in amazement. She turned her head awa}\ "I overheard that night," she explained quickly, in a low tone. "Mr Leicester had left his cigarette case, and Sir John proposed I sh6uld run in with it. I was just behind those bushes when I heard you talking about me — I listened, then crept away " her voice came to a stop. His head seemed in a ■whii! as the Ihing dawned on him. "And because of that you Mould not accept him?"' he stammered. She shook her head. "Not altogether — chiefly becaus I realised I didn't love him.' 1 She paused and glanced at him shyly. "Al«o becauve I realised something else too." He was still too dazed to think. "What?"' he cried. Her cheeks mantled with colour. She uttered a low laugh. •"You're making it very difficult for me. ' she said pathetically. "1 tried haid enough in the garden to moke you understand the other day," she addtd icckle«"ly. Then suddenly the eyes of the bpokwonn were opened. ''You ttattJt laeaal 1 ' Jaa critJ.

She gave a little smiling nod. "Yes, for months and months !" she admitted softly. "And all you would do was to try and make me marry somebody else — such a stupid, self-sacrificing old bookworm !" He looked at her for a moment with shining eyes, then with a quick nervous movement he bent down and, catching hoM of his book, flung it far amongst the trees. ''There's nothing in any book that was ever written that can give me such a moment as this !" he cried. And people who know say that he was quite right.