CHAPTER IX
“THAT IS MY ULTIMATUM”
The twenty-third of December arrived, and Earle Wayne was a free man once more.
Who can portray his feelings as, once more clad in the habiliments of a citizen—his prison garb, like the chrysalis of the grub, having dropped from him forever—he came forth into the world and sought the haunts of men? No one can do justice to them; such feelings are indescribable.
Earle Wayne was not twenty-three years old.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and stalwart of form.
His face was the face of nature’s nobleman; a clear, dark skin, eyes of deep hazel, with hair of just a darker shade crowning a forehead broad, full, and at every point well developed.
His nose was somewhat large and of the Roman type; his mouth sweet and gentle in expression, but full of manly strength and firmness; it had also now something of sadness in its lines, from the long term of cruel endurance and restraint which he had undergone.
But his step was as free and proud, his head as erect, his gaze as clear and unflinching as before anyone had dared to accuse him of having robbed his fellow-man, or he had served a criminal’s sentence.
And why not?
He had not sinned; he had done no wrong; he had never wilfully harmed a human being in all his life. His own conscience told him he was as true and noble a man at heart as any that walked the earth; and he would not sacrifice his self-respect because, upon circumstantial evidence, he had been obliged to serve out a sentence in a State prison for another man’s crime.
He returned to the city that had been his home before his imprisonment, and where he had served three pleasant years with Richard Forrester, and where now, since he was dead and gone, he had no hope of having a friendly hand extended to him. His first night he spent in a quiet, but respectable hotel, and slept restfully and well.
The next morning Mr. Felton wended his way, with the all-important document that Editha desired in his pocket, to Mr. Dalton’s residence on —th street.
He meant to have attended to it before but had been unexpectedly called from town on business the morning after Editha’s visit to him, and had had no time until then to go to her.
Editha was in a fever of anxiety and impatience on account of it, and for two whole days had watched for his coming from her window almost incessantly.
When at last she saw him ascending the steps, she sped to the door and answered his ring, whereupon she led him directly to the library, where her father was sitting.
“Papa,” she said, speaking as indifferently as she could after the two men had exchanged greetings, “Mr. Felton has called today to settle that business of Uncle Richard’s bequest to Mr. Wayne.”
Mr. Dalton started and flushed angrily, frowning darkly upon her; then in an effort to curb his anger, he turned to the lawyer with a light laugh.
“Has this young lady been importuning you also upon her sentimental whims?” he asked.
“Miss Editha called several days ago and told me of her uncle’s request, and asked me to prepare the necessary documents,” Mr. Felton replied, quietly, and with a sympathetic glance at Editha’s hot cheeks.
“Well, what do you think of it? Did you ever hear of such a piece of foolishness as she contemplates?”
“It is a question with me whether it is a piece of foolishness to desire to fulfill the request of a dying man,” returned the lawyer, gravely.
Editha gave him a grateful look.
“Pshaw! Richard Forrester did not know what he was about. He was a feeble paralytic, and not accountable for what he said at that time,” said Mr. Dalton, impatiently.
“Oh, Papa! how can you say that, when you know that his mind was perfectly clear?” Editha exclaimed, reproachfully.
“Did you invite Mr. Felton here today to argue this point with me?” he demanded sharply of her.
“I asked him, as he has stated, to prepare the necessary papers to settle this money upon Mr. Wayne, hoping that he might convince you that it is best to allow me to do so.”
“Indeed!”
“You know Earle’s time expired yesterday, and I am expecting him every moment,” Editha said, with some agitation.
“You are expecting him every moment!” repeated Mr. Dalton, growing excited also, though in a different way, and from a different cause.
He had not forgotten the night that he had stolen into her library and tampered with the package committed to her care, nor what secrets that package contained.
“Yes, sir; I wrote to him to come directly here as soon as he was free.”
“And, pray, did you tell him what he was to come for?” thundered Mr. Dalton, in a rage.
“I told him I had a message for him, and also a package belonging to him,” Editha said, quietly.
She was growing more calm as he became excited.
“Did you ever hear of such folly?” he asked of Mr. Felton.
“I think Miss Dalton is perfectly right in wishing to carry out her uncle’s desires. She will have a large fortune left, even after giving up the ten thousand, and my advice to you would be to put no obstacle in her path. Of course, I know she cannot do this without your consent—at least, not at present.”
“Of course not; and I shall not allow it. I am surprised that a man of your prudence and judgment should advise such a thing,” Mr. Dalton answered with some heat.
“I simply believe in doing as we would be done by. Put yourself in young Wayne’s place Mr. Dalton and consider whether a little friendly help from the dead friend who was always so kind to him would not be very acceptable just at this time,” Mr. Felton answered earnestly.
A dark flush mounted to Mr. Dalton’s brow at these words. Put himself in Earle Wayne’s—her son’s—place! Imagine him to be in the position of the man he had such cause to hate! The thought stirred all the bad blood in his nature.
“He shall never have one penny of my daughter’s fortune. I will never put my name to any paper like what you have brought here today!” he cried angrily and smiting the table near which he sat heavily.
“Papa let me plead with you,” Editha said gently beseechingly. “I promised to do this thing at this time. Please do not make me break my word; for my sake let me do as Uncle Richard wished; do not force me to do a worse thing than that for which Earle was so cruelly sentenced!”
“I force you to commit no robbery! Girl, what do you mean? I am preventing you from robbing yourself!” he cried, angrily.
“Not so, Mr. Dalton,” Mr. Felton said, with dignity; for he longed to pommel the man for speaking so to the beautiful girl before him. “I can appreciate Miss Editha’s feelings; she not only wishes to befriend this unfortunate young man on her own account, but she believes that after today the ten thousand dollars are no longer hers. Richard Forrester gave the sum from his own property before it became hers, to young Wayne, and, if you refuse to allow her to settle it upon him, you are not only committing a wrong but forcing her to commit one also.”
“Do I understand that you two are trying to make me out a thief?” demanded Mr. Dalton, hoarsely.
“It is an ugly word; but, morally speaking, I should say it was the right one to use in this case; legally, however, since there was no codicil to the will, I suppose Miss Dalton is entitled to everything,” Mr. Felton observed, dryly, with a scornful curve of his lip.
Mr. Dalton for a moment was too enraged to reply; then he burst forth:
“I will see him in — before he shall ever touch a penny of her money! That is my ultimatum.”
Mr. Felton, upon this, turned to Editha, who was standing, very pale, by the table.
Her father’s anger and words had shocked her beyond expression, but they had also aroused some of the reserve force of her character.
“In that case, Miss Editha, my services are not needed here today. I suppose I shall destroy the document I have prepared?”
“No, sir! Keep it if you please.”
“Keep it! What for, pray?” demanded her father, with a sneer.
She turned to him very quietly, but with a mien which he was learning to dread, and said, in low, firm tones:
“I shall be twenty-one, sir, in a little less than a year, and, according to the law of the land, my own mistress. I shall not then need to obtain the consent of anyone in order to do as I like with my money. On the twentieth of November next Earle Wayne will receive his ten thousand dollars, with a year’s interest added. That is the best I can do.”
Then, without waiting for Mr. Dalton to reply, and wholly ignoring his dark looks, she turned to Mr. Felton, with one of her charming smiles, and said:
“We will drop our business for today; and, as there is the lunch bell, won’t you come out and try the merits of a cup of coffee and a plate of chicken salad?”
The lawyer regarded her with a gleam of admiration in his fine old eyes; he had not thought she possessed so much character.
“No, I thank you,” he replied, thinking it best to get out of the tempest as soon as practicable. “You know it is the day before Christmas, and that is usually a busy time; besides, I have another engagement in half an hour, and there is barely time to reach my office. You will also excuse me for tomorrow,” he added, in a lower tone; and Editha knew that, after what had occurred today, it would be no pleasure to him to dine with them, as she had asked him to do. She knew, too, that her little plan regarding making a pleasant day for Earle was blighted.
He bowed coldly to Mr. Dalton, and Editha followed him to the door.
“Do not worry over what you cannot help, Miss Editha; eleven months won’t be so very long to wait, and, meanwhile, if you will send young Wayne to me, I think I can put him in a way to keep his head above water until that time,” he said, kindly, as he shook her hand in farewell at the door.
Editha thanked him, with tears in her eyes, and then would have sought her own rooms, but she heard her father calling her, and so she returned to the library, though she dreaded another scene.
“A fine spectacle you have made of yourself today,” were the sneering, angry words which greeted her entrance.
She walked quietly to where he sat and stood before him, but two very bright spots now relieved her unusual paleness.
“Did you wish anything particular of me, Papa? If not, I think it would be better not to keep lunch waiting any longer,” she said gently, though with an evident effort at self-control.
“Do I want anything of you? I would like to give you a wholesome shaking for what you have done today.”
She lifted her head and encountered his two blazing, angry eyes, her own glance clear, steadfast, and unflinching.
“You are a wilful little—fool!” he said, nettled by her calm demeanor, and almost beside himself with rage.
Still, she said nothing, and he instantly grew ashamed of those last words.
“You have no idea how angry you have made me today,” he said, half apologetically.
“I have no desire to make you angry, sir. I only desire and intend to do right,” she answered, quietly.
“Intend! Is that a threat?”
“No, sir—merely a statement of a fact.”
“And refers to what you said just before Mr. Felton went out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Edith Dalton, if you dare to defy me in this thing, I’ll make your life so miserable that you will wish you were dead,” he said, in concentrated tones of passion.
She paled again at the fearful words, and a keen pain smote her heart that her own father should speak thus to her; then she replied, steadily:
“I have no wish to defy you, sir, but—”
“But you will not obey me—you would set my authority aside if you could,” he interrupted.
“I acknowledge your authority as the highest of any on earth, and I will yield you cheerful obedience in all that is right—beyond that, I cannot go, I will not go. I have reached an age where I am capable of judging for myself upon all moral questions, and I must exercise that judgment.”
“This is a point of business, upon which you set aside my wishes and my authority,” he said, moodily, and his eyes wavering uneasily beneath her steady gaze.
“It involves the principles of right and wrong also. I promised that Earle Wayne should have this money, and if you will not let me give it to him now, I shall pay it to him, as I said, a year from now, with interest.”
He knew she meant it, and, in his passion, he half raised his clenched hand as if to strike her.
But the soft blue eyes, with the keen pain in them, disarmed him, and it dropped heavily back upon the arm of his chair.
“Oh, Papa,” she said, her voice full of unshed tears, “why need we disagree upon so slight a thing?”
“Do you call a matter involving ten thousand dollars a slight thing?” he asked, with a sneer.
“Yes, in comparison with what will remain, my father,” laying her hand softly on his shoulder and pleading in tones that ought to have melted a harder heart. “Let us do what is right; let us be friends and united in heart, instead of growing so widely apart as we have been during the past year or two.”
“You will not yield to me.”
“In all that is right, I shall be only too glad to,” she answered, with a heavy sigh.
“But you persist in giving this money to that—”
“I must. That is settled,” she interrupted, firmly, and to prevent the utterance of some obnoxious word, she knew not what.
“Never—never! Do you think I would let you give it to him—him of all others in the world?”
Edith regarded him in surprise at these excited words. They seemed to imply a deadly hatred for which she could not account, knowing that Earle had never done her father any injury.
“A thief—a robber—a criminal!” he added, noticing her look, and having no desire to have her inquire into the real nature of his hatred.
“Earle never was either of those,” she said, proudly.
“No matter; he has suffered the disgrace of them all, and there can be no peace between you and me until you promise to yield to me.”
“I cannot in this instance.”
“Then the consequences be upon your own head. I’ll try and have patience with you until the year is out; then, if you defy me, I’ll make you rue it. Go!” and he pointed impatiently toward the door.
Without a word, Editha glided from the room, her heart heavy and sore.
Soon after she heard him leave the house, and ten minutes later there came a ring at the door that, in spite of her pain, sent the rosy blood leaping to her very brow, in a burning tide, and made her heart leap like a frightened bird in her bosom.
“Earle has come,” she murmured, as she sat listening for the servant to come to summon her, and trying to still her throbbing nerves.
Comments