“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 any one 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 which 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 to-day to settle
that business of Uncle Richard’s bequest to Mr. Wayne.”
Mr. Dalton started and flushed angrily, frowning darkly upon her; then
by an effort curbing 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 to-day 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 to-day!” 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
to-day 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 to-day. 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 any one 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 to-day; 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 to-morrow,” he added, in a lower tone; and
Editha knew that, after what had occurred to-day, 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 to-day,” 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 to-day.”
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 to-day,” 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, 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.