The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1881-09-21
DoRA:DEXSE.

4 which; would indicate ber a married
woman was still wanting from hel
\ name, fetrthere were no lines o
.Edisapp about Dora Deane's
mouth; notroubled espif fssion. IN tn,
clear gray eyes Yse bhe looked {
woman tosloyeaad to be loved, She
was moi beautiful but ileople had al
ways called her a, ,pretty girl. They
callediher so still 90 tsuthful wa.
the graceful figure and bIdbile face)
untiltbey stopped to retkon on theil
fingers, and discovered the term "wo,
man" was more appropriate. There
was about her, too, a ceflsin distinct.
i've charm-a something which made
strangers turn again as she passed
them BY for q second lnceS She
was neither belle nor beauty. She
could have married many times, but
perhaps she felt that love was one
Of the essentials lacking, perhaps be,
cause the idea was not attained-she
remained Dora Deane still. Thus
the gossips reasoned. Pry as they
would, could discover no early disap.
pointment, no hidden romance, in all
the years she had lived among them.
Yet, peeping over her shoulder, as is
our privilege, noting the delicate
flush upon her cheek, the light in
her eye, the trembling Of the little
hand which holds a letter written in
firm, bold characters, they might
have seized upon clue we are toe
generous to fasten OF. follow. The
words she had persued were these:
"The fever has broken out again
quite hotly with us, and | am anx.
,ious Cara should breathe purer air.
May ! drive her out tomorrow and
leave her for fortnight? My mess
enger will wait your answer.
(signe0 "RoNALD RAY"
"ofcourse she mightcome," thought
Miss Deane.
Dear little Cora! Doctor Ray was
her guardian. She had been left to
his care when a little child of three
years. She must be eighteen now.
For six years she had been at school.
Now she had returned to her guard.
ian's home, to remain until some one
stole her away to grace another. But
she was still a child. That was but
remote possibility for the distant
future.
Ronald Ray was a physician in the
ger, eilS,. ga IF whose .snbprbs
:aAs n s. lseade teautifGl Is !.
How many es She had known himl
He had .evenNcethe to her first, in
that long.ago time; 30 tell her the
story of the child confded to his care.
She had been but seventeen herself
then, he six years her senior. They
had been friends always, but lately
she had seen more Of him than his
usual wont. He had talked with her
Of Cara's home.coming-of the plans
he had matured for her amusement
of the pleasure his mother would
experience in having her bright
young presence constantly near her;
aud she had listened, as she always
listened when Ronald Ray talked
listened with beating heart and
Heeting color. But it had never be-
trayed her secret even to him. She
had scarce acknowledged it to her.
self She only knew that other men
might come and 60, but were all pow
erless, even by the most passionate
proiestations Of devotion, to waken
that called forth by his simplest
word.
But lately he had been different.
There had been light in his eye
like that within her own--a sup.
pressed excitement in his manner
totally at variance with his usual
calm. And now from among his le-
gion Of friends he had chosen her
home where his ward might be a
guest.
Her thoughts were very busy as
she made her preparations to receive
her visitor. With her own hands
she gathered and arranged the fow-
ers that were to welcome her in the
pretty room she had assigned her,
joining her own.
In the dusk of evening, the sound
of wheels announced their coming.
"Dear Miss Doral" exclaimed a
sweet, girlish voice, as some one