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 Captain 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. Captain Drummond watched her. So did her father, who could make nothing of her.
"Do you understand me, Daisy?"
"Papa "
"Obey me first, and then talk about it."
Daisy was in no condition to talk; she could hardly breathe that one word. She knew the tone of great displeasure in her father's voice. He saw her condition.
"You are not able to sing at this minute," said he. "Go to your room I will give you ten minutes to recover yourself. Then, Daisy, come here and sing if you like to be at peace with me."
But Daisy did not move; she stood there, with her two hands clasped on her breast.
"Do you mean that you will not?" said Mr. Randolph.
"If it wasn't Sunday, papa " came from Daisy's parted lips.