The record-union., 1896-08-16
WHITTIER FATE LED THEM.

NlSntenSaie opera Company, now IN
this city, has kindly consented to sing
at morning services in the synagogue
to-day"
Such was the notice Carl Ostrander
read in the morning paper, as he
lOunged in the hotel office after break
fast. Having nothing better to do, he
arose, and, with the paper still in his
hand, walked over to the clerks desk
and asked to be directed to the place
mentioned.
He was somewhat late in arriving,
nevertheless was fortunate enough to
secure a good seat. A buzz and f1ut-
ter soon after his arrival announced the
appearance of the queen of song, and a
hush fell upon the vast audience, while
out upon the air f1Oated her magnificent
voice. OStrander listened spellbound.
Near the end of the song his eyes
wandered to the gallery above his
head, and there, looking down upon
him, he saw woman he had known
years ago, a woman he had loved and
lost, and though he had hunted the
world over no trace of her could he
find. He kept his eyes upon her, and
as she recognized him he saw her start
avert her head. All through the re-
mainder of the song he watched her. AT
it's close he saw her rise and leave the
building. Quickly he followed, and
was just in time to see her enter
handsome private carriage and be
driven rapidly away He lost no time
in entering one of the numerous pub
lie conveyances standing about the
entrance and gave orders to the driver
to keep the private turnout in view.
Presently his carriage was stopped be-
fore palatial residence, into whose
doors he saw the lady of the synagogue
enter. Dismissing his driver, he ran
quickly up the steps and rang the bell;
servant in livery opened the door.
Give that to your mistress said Os-
trander, handing the lackey his card
He was shown into the drawing
room, While the servant disappeared,
and for the first time he found himself
alone and able to think collectedly.
He was undeniably nervous. How
would he be received? Suppose he had
been mistaken? But no, that face,
those eyes, he would know anywhere.
swish of silken skirts and a subtle
odor OF heliotrOpe caused him to turn
quickly, and there, standing before
him, he saw his old-time sweetheart
Anita!' he cries, holding out his
hands: Anita, don't you know me?" At
the sound of his voice she starts for
ward with a glad cry of recognition He
took both her hands in his, and would
nave drawn her to him, but she
wrenches herself free and retreats to
the other end of the room Ostrander
follows and stands over her, though he
does not offer to touch her again.
Anita, my little love- have 1 fright
ened you?" he asks softly. mo. no. not
frightened" she tells him; Il was only
surprised. I so seldom see old friends
now"
She plucks at her gown with nervous
fingers. Ostrander watches her mar
roWly. She has grown thin and pale
since he saw her last, while there are
marks of suffering around her eyes
and mouth.
Anita mio," he says, using the old
endearing term, you have not told me
you are glad to see me. When I came
near you shrank from me. Have you
| ceased to love me?"
mo. no. not that" she tells him,
raising her pathetic eyes to his for an
instant, "but have you not heard? Do
you not know that am married."
Married" repeats the man, and
staggers as though he had received a
blow, while something very like a sob
escapes his lips. When did this oc-
cilr?" he asks presently, and she tells
him last year" Her husband is old
and rich; 1t is the same old story of a
marriage for convenience without a
particle of love.
The man listens silently. When she
pauses he asks: Anita, are you hap
py?' but she does not answer Anita,
you loved me once; is that love dead %
He asks again and again, and she re-
plies:
mo, heaven help me; it is not dead,
but you must leave me; you have no
right here; go, beg of you, before my
husband returns
| But the man does not stir. A strange
glitter burns in his eyes; he is pale to
the very lips.
Anita, you have told me that you
| love me; then come with me. I will
| devote my entire future to your happi-
| ness In another land we will forget
that we have ever been separated. Will
| you Gomez"
| He holds out his arms longingly, but
| she shrinks from him and covers her
| face with her hands. II cannot" she
means. 'Oh, l cannot; don't tempt me.
Leave me. l implore of you
| While she is talking he takes from
| bis pocket a tiny vial containing a
single drop of transparent liquid. She
looks at it curiously as he holds it to
the light. You would not think that
this tiny drop would kill a man, would
you? And yet it is sure death in less
| than an hour. This bottle has been
my constant companion for many years.
Shall ] take this one drop and be plung-
| cd into an unknown future? or shall
| I live? The decision rests with you.
Shall it be life or death?"
She cannot speak. so great is her ag-
| itation. Five minutes pass, which
seem to them both an eternity, when,
with great cry the woman falls for
ward at his feet.
| Half an hour later as Carl Ostrander
| is sitting in his room he is told that lady
would like to see him on urgent busi-
| ness. With q half-audible protest he
| follows the boy down stairs. A lady
closely yelled rises to meet him. AS
soon as they are alone she throws back
! her veil.
Anita, what brings you here? Have
you changed your mind? Will you
come with me?"
! He takes a step toward her, but she
/ waves him back.
No. no.' she says hurriedly. Il gave
you your answer. 1t is unalterable. If
you had only come year ago. l could