River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1881-10-13
DORA DEANE.
BY JENNY WREN.


BY JENNY WREN.
She was 80, and the prefix which
would indicate her a married woman
was still wanting from her name. Yet
there were no lines of disappointment
about Dora Deane's mouth no troubled
expression il. the clear gray eyes. Yet
she looked woman TO love and be be-
loved. She was not beautiful, but peo-
pie had always called her pretty girl.
They called her so still $50 youthful was
the graceful figure and mobile face),
until they stopped to reckon on their
fingers and discovered the term 'wo-
man" was more appropriate. There
was about her, too, a certain distinctive
charm-a something which made stran-
gers turn again as she passed them by
for a second glance. She was neither
belle nor beauty. She could have mar
ried several times, but-perhaps be-
cause she felt that love was one of the
essentials lacking, perhaps because the
ideal was not attained--she renamed
Dora Deane still. Thus the gosslps rea-
soned. Pry as they would, they could
discover no early disappointment, 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 trem-
bling of the little hand which held
letter written in firm, bold characters,
they might have seized upon a. clue we
are too generous to fasten or follow.
The words she had perused were these:
1.-THE fever has broken out again quite holly
with US and / am anxious Cara should breathe
the pure air May drive her out and leave her
for a fortnight! My messenger will wait for your
answer RoNALD RAY
'Of course she might come" thought
Miss Deane.
Dear Little Cara Dr.. Ray was her
guardian. She had been left to his
care when little child of three years.
She must be eighteen now. For six
years she had been at school. Now she
had returned to her guardians 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.
Roland Ray was a physician in the
great city in one of whose suburbs
was Miss Deans beautiful home. How
many wears she had known him. He
had even come to her first, in that long
ago time, to tell her the story of the
child confined to his care.
She had been but seventeen herself
then, he six years her senior. They
had been friends always, hut 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 ma
E. I, Tho
ure his mother would experience in
having her bright vol ng presence con'
stantly near her; and he had listened,
as she always listenCu when Roland
Ray talked, listened with a beating
heart and fleeing color. But 1t had
never betrayed her secret even to him.
She had scarce acknowledged it to ner-
self. She only knew that other men
might come and so, but were all power
less, even 10y the most passionate pro
testations of devotion, to waken that
called forth by his simplest word.
But lately he had been different.
There had been Il light inhis eyes like
that within her own-a suppressed ex-
element in his manner totally at vari-
ance with his usual claim. And now
from his legion of friends he mad
chosen her home where his ward might
be guest.
Her thoughts were very busy as she
made her preparations to receive her
visitor. With her own hands she gather
ed aud arranged the flowers that were
10 welcome her in the pretty room she
had assigned her, adjoining her own.
In the dusk Of the evening the sound
If wheels announced their coming.
Dear Miss Doral' exclaimed a sweet
girlish voice, as some one sprang from
the carriage, ere the Doctor could
alight to assist her. at is all nonsense
Ronald's sending me away from home!
But so long as he insisted on it | am so
GLAD it is herel We shall have nice
times here tOgether-that is, if you have
not forgotten me-"
And She impulsively threw her arms
about the elder woman's neck.
There was a charm-a winsomeness
about her impossible to resist. Dora
Deane felt her heart go out toward her
anew, as it had done when. a tiny gold
en-haired child, she had climbed upon
her knee and had fallen asleep Graded
i'm her arms.
Not until they had all gone in togeth-
er into the lighted drawing-room did
she discover how fully the chllds
promise of rare beauty had redeemed
itself.
But the light was less merciless else
where. 1t showed the physicians face
pale and careworn, and bearing traces
of overwork and lack Of sleep. Dora
found moment during Cara's gay
prattle to lay her hand upon his sleeve.
Take care of yourself" she half
whispered. Il fear you forgot that in
YOUR care for others. You are not
looking well.
Nonsense" he laughed. The idea
of a doctor not being able to take care
of himself! 1t IS like the cook allowing
herself to starve. You would almost
persuade my patients, Miss Dora, TO
lose faith in me, which reminds me
that / am losing precious time and
must be off. 4 thousand thanks for
receiving this child! l shall see you as
often as possible, and shall have dOu-
bic inducemement in coming.
Was it all fancy that his voice was
lower as he uttered this last sentence?
and was it all unconscious, the pressure
of the little hand of his hostess as it lay
for a moment within his own?
However that might DE, Dora's heart
felt strangely light as she listened to the
echo Of the retreatirg wheels of DIR.
Rays carriage.
Cara had been her guest a fortnight,
during which time the Doctor had full
filed his promise of devoting TO them
ali his spare moments; but they were
few. The fever was increasing rather
than abating. Miss Deane babe fair to
have her guest for a long visit.
But you're not tired of ne, are
your Cara asked, when her guardian
limited something of this.
NO, indeed she answered, with a
bright smile. The question is-what
shall | do without your"
The three were standing together
when she thus spoke, but as she fin
ished, Ronald Ray leaned over and in
a low tone said. so that only her ear
caught the words
Tomorrow when | come | want TO
see you alone. l have something to
say to you"
Why-why could she not hide the
tell-tale blood which so deeply dyed
her cheek as she bowed her assent? In
all these wears he had never spoken