.
The control the colonel has over his girls all the way up until the moment before his death. He opens his eye as if to peek at them to see what they are doing. This parting of their father is grotesque. The dying man opens one eye and only glares, watching the moves they are making. The daughters feel that the eye is not a peaceful eye at all, only haunting to them, bringing back memories of unpleasant scenes and scoldings. With only one eye he is able to control them; they know nothing different but his control. They are not able to move or speak because he has not told them to do so. The girls stand, like zombies, motionless and emotionless. The damage he has brought to them shines through before his death. They speak no words to each other; he would not allow it and they are not strong enough to go against him and speak up. .
He lay[s] there, purple, a dark, angry purple in the face, and never even look at them when they [ come] in. Then, as [ are] standing there, wondering what to do, he [ suddenly opens] one eye. Oh, what a difference it would [.make], what a difference to their memory of him, .
how much easier to tell people about it, if he [ ] only [opens] both! But no - one eye only. It [ glares] at them a moment and then . . . [ goes] out (Daughters 467). .
For years, Josephine and Constantia have been under strict supervision from their father since childhood, holding back emotions they have never been able to express too afraid of his reactions. Now that their father has gone they are still afraid of the consequences of their actions, being if they will ever able to feel and express them. Constantia's long preserved childhood, where emotions were muffled, even laughter, is now over but she still catches herself before she expresses herself (Goonetilleke 1). What would her father say? The daughters inability to live has turned them robots, robots their father has made. "The giggle mounted, mounted; she clenched her hands; she fought it down; she frowned fiercely at the dark and said 'Remember' terribly sternly" (464).