She
heard none; the hours passed, though so very slowly, as they do when all
the minutes are watched; and Daisy heard nothing but dim distant noises,
and grew pretty quiet. She had heard nothing else, when turning her head
from the moonlight window she caught the sight of a white figure at her
bedside; and by the noble form and stately proportions Daisy knew
instantly whose figure it was. Those soft flowing draperies had been
before her eyes all day. A pang shot through the child, that seemed to
go from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet.
"Are you awake, Daisy?"
"Yes, mamma," she said feebly.
"Get up. I want to speak to you."
Daisy got off the bed, and the white figure in the little night dress
stood opposite the other white figure, robed in muslin and laces that
fell around it like a cloud.
"Why did you come to bed?"
"Papa--papa ordered me."
"It's all the same. If you had not come to bed, Daisy if you had been
well,--would you have sung when I ordered you to-night?"
Daisy hesitated, and then said in a whisper:
"No, mamma--not that.
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