“But Uncle Richard made me promise that I would give it to Mr. Wayne just as soon as his time expired, and _I must do it_,” Editha said, almost in tears. She had hoped that Mr. Felton could find a way to help her out of this trouble. “The law is a hard master sometimes,” he said, sympathizing with her evident distress; “but I will make out the papers as you desire, and perhaps we can advise and prevail upon your father to do what is right on Christmas Day.” “Then you do think it is right Earle should have this money?” she asked, eagerly. “Certainly, if it was Mr. Forrester’s wish, since the money was his own to do with as he chose; but I am sorry he was not able to add a codicil to his will. It would have saved all this trouble, for no one could have gainsaid that. Do not be discouraged, however; we may be able to persuade Mr. Dalton to see things as we do. You shall have the papers by the twenty-fifth.” “I have been thinking,” Editha said, musingly, “that if you could have it before, and we could get papa to sign it, it might save some unpleasant feelings. If we should wait until Christmas Day, and he should refuse before Earle, it might make him very uncomfortable.” “Perhaps that would be the better way, and I will attend to it for you as soon as possible,” Mr. Felton assented. Editha went home in rather a doubtful frame of mind. “What will Earle do if papa will not consent?” she murmured, the tears chasing each other down her cheeks. “He will not have any money, and, with no one to hold out a helping hand, he will become disheartened.” “A clear case of love!” Mr. Felton said, thoughtfully, upon Edith’s departure. “It’s too bad, too, for, of course it would never do for her to marry him, with the stigma upon his character. Poor fellow! he’ll have a hard time of it if Dalton won’t give in, for people are mighty shy of jail-birds, be they ever so promising; and her father, according to my way of thinking, loves money too well to give up a pretty sum like ten thousand.” 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.