The time seemed interminable while the two watched by the master of the house, longing and praying in the silence of their hearts for the medical man's arrival.
At last the welcome approach of his gig sounded on the carriage drive, and in a few moments more Dr. Crane was in the room—quiet, calm, issuing his orders clearly and decidedly, and bringing with him a sense of comfort to the frightened girl.
When the patient was at last in bed, and John installed to watch beside him, the doctor called Margaret aside and placed an arm-chair for her.
"Now tell me how this attack began, and what you think brought it on?"
In a few words Miss Woodford described the day's occurrences, and explained that while her father was talking to her that evening in the library, he suddenly cried out as though in great pain and put his hand to the back of his neck, then he seemed to lose consciousness.
"What is it, doctor?" Her sweet grey eyes looked anxiously into his, as she asked the question.
Dr. Crane paused a moment or two before he answered, then he said slowly:
"He has had a stroke consequent upon some unusual excitement or shock."
"A stroke?" repeated Margaret. "Does it mean then—that ... that he is too ill to—to recover?" And her voice trembled as she spoke.
"Oh, I do not say that at all," answered Dr. Crane; "he may, of course, get over this quite well, but in that case he will probably not be quite the same man again that he was before it happened. Perhaps," he continued, "you do not know that your father has consulted me more than once during the last year with regard to his health?"