"Come down to dinner," she said gently.
"I am not hungry."
There was a pause; I fancied her gone, and looked; she was standing at the foot of my bed, gazing at me with a very sorrowful face.
"Daisy," she said, in her most persuasive accents, "have you nothing to say to me?"
I looked at her; her glance told me she asked for a confession, not for justification, so I replied—
"Nothing, Kate," and again closed my eyes.
She left me, but soon returned, carrying a small tray with a plate, on which there was some fowl and a glass of wine. She wanted me to eat. I assured her I was not hungry.
"Try," she urged; "I promised Cornelius not to leave you without seeing you take something."
To please her I tried, but she saw that the attempt sickened me; she pressed me to take the wine.
"Cornelius poured it out in his own glass," she said, "and tasted it before sending it up; so you must have some."