The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1881-10-20
A WIFE TO LOVE HIM.

81 declare, Robert, I don't know
what you will do. unless you get mar.
ried yourself.
Robert Alderman looked at his sister
in mild remonstrance as he said gently
MARRY! 1! You forget. Dorothy"
Dorothy's face softened. Under the
!; daisies in the village cemetery slept q
blue-eyed girl who had been betrotheG
to her brother eighteen long years be-
fore, and died one week before the
wedding day. ...si .-.-s.
'.It is SO long ago." she said in a tone
of apology;
f''and am too old to begin a new
life: Forty-thrce in December. Dor.
othyr' =.
..Well," said Miss Dorothy, tartly, 81
am five years older, and I intend to
marry John Sanderson in three months
AS soon as his new house is finished.
Now. Robert" very coaxingly-
'there is Martha Gaines.'
Don't trouble yourself to pick out
my wife," her brother said, in a tone
of decision his easy-going, gentle ma
ture rarely permitted to be heard. al
have no intention Of marrying. and
certainly no desire to marry Martha
Gaines"
He left the breakfast-table abruptly
as he spoke, and went to his study.
Miss Dorothy rubbed her nose vigor-
ously.
MEN are so unreasonable" she
thought Robert must have someone
to keep house for him when go. And
Martha Gaines is the best housekeeper
in MeAlowville.
The idea of Martha Gaines presid-
ing over the china-closet and linen
chests that had been her ife's delight
until Cupid came to win away the old
maids attention., became more and
more agreeable to Miss Dorothy as the
morning wore away.
-rn Just give Martha hint" she
finally concluded. '.Anybody can
twist Robert round q finger if they only
half Try" 49, - is.
+ They were people of position in
Mead0wville, being wealthy. and owing
several of the largest farms in the vi
cinity. With good servants well trained
under her own severe discipline. ample
means, and o brother who never found
fault. Miss Dorothy's housekeeping had
certainly had few thorns.
a But when she consented to become
the wife Of the minister of Meadow
vile. the transfer of her power and
privileges became a weighty burden.
But one solution seemed possible.
/. Her brother must marry some steady
middle-aged spinster, who would keep
up the prim neatness and the hum
dred little details of Miss Dorothy's
domain.'~
+ Miss Martha Gaines, a vinegar-faced.
sharp-voiced woman, of limited income,
and unlimited energy and temper.
proved to be smilingly willing to take
Miss Dorothy's hints in good part.
1t had been very satisfactory after
noon to Miss Dorothy. and she came
home to tea in q placid frame of mind.
Her brother in the meantime. after
self unequal to his usual afternoons
reading, and strolied down shady
lane in the direction of the church..
Was il his sisters suggestion that had
% brought back TO his memory the
sweet baby face of his young betrothed
that he sought her gravep
Many long summer. afternoon he
had passed there in the early days Of
his bereavement but time closes the
worst wounds, and of late years he had
not been very often to the secluded
corner where Susie Dent slept, in the
shade of a great oak tree.
He walked slowly. musingly, his eyes
on the ground. till he was close to the
grave. ~ '
= Then he looked up. and reeled back
as if he would fall.
y Close to the grave. one little hand
resting on the marble head-stone. was
q girl of seventeen or eighteen, dressed
in white, with q wide straw hat that
shaded Susie's great blue-eyes. Susie's
long. fair curls. a
Robert Ackcrman felt as il he had
lost his reason and this was vision of
adisordered brain. His voice was hoarse
and strained as he said: .4-
".Who are You, childp'
al am Susie Dent" said low. sweet
voice '.It is the name on the stone
here. That Susie Dent was my aunt,
who died when I was a baby. Papa
thinks l look like her."
Tho explanation was given with
childlike frankness and simplicity, and
gradually the suffocating throbs of
Roberts heart became quiet, and his
voice was natural, and had its habitual
gentleness, as he said:
II knew your father we'll before he
left Meadowvilfe. and l knew your
aunt. You may have heard of Robert
Ackermane"
.'Who was to have married Aunt
Susie?''
..Yes, dear child. You are like her
very much like her. Are you staying
In Meadowvillea"
YES. I have been i'll. Not very,
very sick, but''-and she gave little
gleeful laugh-''the doctor says l won
too many school prizes last term, and
that must go to the country. and not
open a book for three months. So l
am boarding with papa's cousin, Miss
Martha Gaines.
..Ah. yes. Well, you must let me
come to see you sometimes. for your
81 shall be very glad to see you."
said Susie frankly, thinking this was
the dearest old gentleman she had ever
seen. s
He chatted with her a little longer,
and then walked with her to the gate
of her cousins cottage. but would not
then go in. - -is
II will come soon to see you." he
promised as he left her.
But he said nothing to Dorothy of
this encounter, feeling that a sacred
chord of memory had been touched,
and shrinking from commonplace re-
uPOh A..
The next day Miss Dorothy went to
tho city to attend to her wedding pur-
chases, and to visit relative.
Robert was q man of sensitive refine
ment, . gentleman in the -truest sense
of the word. scholar and a philan-
thropist, while his sister, without being
vulgar, was what the Meadowvillians
called q ''stirring woman." full of life
and hustle, of ovcrfowing energy, and
an incessant talker.
Miss Dorothy had been in the city but
. few days, when a letter from Mead
owviIle filled her heart with elation.
1t was signed Martha Gaines," and
that maiden wrote:
ssYour brother comes over nearly
every day. suppose he's lonesome
while you are away, and he mostly
stays to tea. I've got boarder this
aunmnr n sdauDhter Of n cOuSin Of mine