Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/278

Pamela could never bear to look back upon those weeks in California, but for months nightmare memories made her start suddenly out of sleep, shivering and afraid; and even in the daytime, in spite of all her will, they crowded round her sometimes with menacing eyes, blotting out the sunlight and striking at the beauty and security about her.

A day or two after her drive with Power she had plucked up courage to tell Uncle Markham that she thought of returning to England. To his anxious questions as to whether she were unhappy with them or homesick for her English relations she could not give very convincing answers; and he was so genuinely distressed at the idea of losing her that she agreed to stay on at least for a few weeks.

“Mr. Power has not been so considerate of my feelings that I need worry particularly about his,” she thought, when her heart misgave her. “Besides, he evidently feels things very differently. If only he will keep reasonably out of my way I think I can bear it for a few weeks more. To go home now would be just as bad as if I had gone with Miss Sidmouth.”

Power was not what Pamela called reasonable. She refused to ride with him again, but he sought her out on every possible occasion. She might be as chilling as she choose—he was not to be snubbed. She could not help noticing that Uncle Markham encouraged his stepson. He spent longer and longer over his evening pipe in his den, and he sang Power’s praises at some length to Pamela’s unwilling ears. Power had confided in lim—within discreet limits; he