When Eliza had been in her own room for about half an hour, her passion had subsided.

She was not glad of this; in perverseness she would have recalled the tempest if she could, but she knew not what to call back or how to call.

She knew no more what had disturbed her than in times of earthquake the sea water knows the cause of its unwonted surging.

She sat angry and miserable; angry with Harkness, not because he had called her heartless--she did not care in the slightest for his praise or blame--but because he had been the bearer of ill tidings; and because he had in some way produced in her the physical and mental distress of angry passion, a distress felt more when passion is subsiding.

She ranked it as ill tidings that her father's land had risen in value.