“Kin!” she cried out, with bitter scorn for herself and Edred. “He isn’t, at all events. His real name I don’t know; he was sentenced as Edred Pugin. As for me! Very likely my father was not your missing uncle at all. I hope not--for your sake. I’m no credit to you.” “You must send me your address. If that ruby company is good and all the shares are not allotted, I’ve money lying by--I shan’t need to spend so much now----” “You don’t know Edred. Never let him have another penny. He has done you harm enough. You won’t want our address; we shan’t be creditable people--for you to know. Up to-day and down to-morrow--I know the life I’m going to lead. But I step into it with my eyes open, because--because it will be with him. I want you to know the very worst of me--you’ll be cured all the sooner. Your misery is nothing--compared to him. My heart is all stone--until he dissolves it. He doesn’t want me. But I’m glad, mad to go. Remember all this when I’m gone. Say she was a callous, reckless, scheming, unprincipled creature--she is well forgotten.” She slipped past him, and out of the room, and up the stairs. Once he thought he heard her sing and then stop abruptly. He went out and tramped moodily across his acres, finding fault with everything, swearing freely at the men, kicking his dog, and roughly ordering away a party of children who were playing in the meadow. Pamela packed. She said good-by to Gainah, who never troubled to lift her head, tipped the two maids. When she told them, in a marked and significant way, that her brother was dangerously ill, pretty Nettie began to blubber. When the wagonette was out of sight Gainah put her patchwork away methodically. Then she went into the garden, looking at things critically, speaking to Daborn in a sharp voice--the imperious voice of old. She was a little cramped yet--mentally and bodily. But the fact that Pamela had gone was beginning to glimmer in on her poor intelligence. When she saw the housekeeping keys in the basket, she picked them up and dropped them in her deep pocket with a cunning chuckle. Then she marched solemnly into the kitchen. CHAPTER XIV. WHEN Pamela walked out into the yard at Victoria, the stale stable smell, the heavy air, and coarse sounds instantly made her feel at home. The last time she had breathed London was on that hot, stifling August morning nearly a year ago when she had started for Folly Corner. Her head had been heavy then, her eyes inflamed with crying, her feet sore and burning with the ceaseless, hopeless walk of the night before--backward and forward across the common, keeping the stolid prison--his shameful casket--in sight.