"Is it the one who is ready to do for you what I refuse." She looked at him mockingly, and, woman-like, determined to torture him. "My good Stephano, if you knew that, you would be as wise as myself!" CHAPTER XVII. BEFORE THE STORM. Before the storm the woods are still, All Nature drowses as in sleep; Yet, tho' her slumbers she may keep, She feels a strange prophetic thrill, Before the storm. From heavy clouds on mount and hill, The thunders mutter--lightnings leap, And soon the heav'ns commence to weep, Such strained silence augurs ill, Before the storm. Living at Thornstream was hardly very pleasant after the interview between Sir Rupert and his daughter. Everything went on just the same, but this very calmness was a foreboding sign of a coming tempest. The baronet was deeply angered at what he considered Kaituna's feminine duplicity, but hiding all such feelings under a mask of ultra politeness, he treated her with a cold courtesy which was far more irritating to the proud spirit of the girl than any outburst of wrath would have been. Inheriting, however, no inconsiderable portion of the paternal pride, she, on her part, treated her father with distant politeness; so these two proud spirits found themselves entirely separated, the one from the other, by the insurmountable barrier of disdainful silence, which they had each contributed to build. They lived under the same roof, they took their meals at the same table, they interchanged the usual remarks concerning daily events, and, to all outward appearances, were the same to one another as they had ever been; but it was far from being the case, for the confidence of the father in the daughter, of the daughter in the father, had entirely disappeared, and they regarded one another with mutual distrust. It was certainly a very unhappy state of things, and was entirely due to the peculiar views held by Sir Rupert, regarding his bearing towards his womankind. Had he interviewed Maxwell personally, and judged for himself as to his fitness to become the husband of his daughter--had he spoken of the matter to Kaituna in a kindly manner--had he made some allowance for the mutual love of these young people, who had set aside conventional observations, things might have been better. But, by ordering his daughter to give up her lover, as he had formerly ordered his high-spirited wife to give up her friend, he committed a fatal mistake, and as he had reaped the consequences of such high-handed proceedings before by losing his wife, it seemed as though history would repeat itself, and he would lose his daughter. Had he shown Kaituna the folly of a hasty love match, had he entreated her for her own sake to be cautious, had he requested her to consider her determination--but to order, ah, that was the mistake he made.