A telegram was sent and before long a reply was received saying that a physician would leave Virginia City upon the next train coming that way.
But several hours must elapse before he could arrive, and Sir William was brought up to the highest pitch of anxiety and impatience during the interval, while to Virgie, anxiously watching and waiting by the bedside of her father, they were the longest that she had ever known.
But she followed Sir William's directions regarding administering the brandy, and she could see that after a few potions the invalid began to rally somewhat.
Just as the sun was going down Sir William and the doctor arrived, and then the young girl felt as if a mountain had rolled from her shoulders.
They remained all night watching with the patient, insisting that Virgie should go to her rest, and worn out with her day of watching and anxiety, she crept away to bed and slept the sleep of exhaustion.
In the morning Mr. Abbot seemed considerably stronger and better, and Virgie's loving heart began to take courage again and to hope that he was not really so very ill after all.
But these feelings received a sudden shock, when, after breakfast, her lover drew her into the little parlor, his face very grave, yet full of tenderness for her.
"I have something that I wish to say to you, Virgie—something to ask you," he said; "but, remember, that you are to answer me frankly and truly. You are not to be unduly influenced by my—by any one's wishes—to consent to what might seem premature, and thus repugnant to you."
Virgie looked up at him questioningly, growing pale, and a thrill of fear shooting through her heart.
"Your father feels," Sir William went on, answering her look, "as if he would like to—to have your future settled before—his strength fails him any further."