"She has not found her voice yet. Take that to your father, Daisy."
Daisy's knees literally shook under her as she moved across the room to obey this order. Mr. Randolph was sitting at some distance talking with one of the gentlemen. He broke off when Daisy came up with the card.
"What is it your mother wishes you to sing?" he inquired, looking from the writing to the little bearer. Daisy answered very low.
"A gypsy song from an opera."
"Can you sing it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then do so at once, Daisy."
The tone was quiet but imperative. Daisy stood with eyes cast down, the blood all leaving her face to reinforce some attacked region. She grew white from second to second.
"It is the charge of the Light Brigade," said Capt. Drummond to himself. He had heard and watched the whole proceeding and had the key to it. He thought good-naturedly to suggest to Daisy an escape from her difficulty, by substituting for the opera song something else that she could sing. Rising and walking slowly up and down the room, he hummed near enough for her to hear and catch it, the air of "Die in the field of battle." Daisy heard and caught it, but not his suggestion. It was the thought of the words that went to her heart,—not the thought of the tune. She stood as before, only clasped her little hands close upon her breast. Capt. Drummond watched her. So did her father, who could make nothing of her.
"Do you understand me, Daisy?"