His
sister wiped the blood from his face. His daughter called on him
frantically to forgive her before he died--the harmless, gentle,
kind-hearted father, who had never said a hard word to her! The father
whom she had deceived!
The terrified servants hurried into the room. Their appearance roused
their master from the extraordinary stupor that had seized him. He was
at the window before the footman could get there. The two lifted Sir
Joseph into the room, and laid him on the sofa. Natalie knelt by him,
supporting his head. Miss Lavinia stanched the flowing blood with her
handkerchief. The women-servants brought linen and cold water. The man
hurried away for the doctor, who lived on the other side of the village.
Left alone again with Turlington, Natalie noticed that his eyes were
fixed in immovable scrutiny on her father's head. He never said a word.
He looked, looked, looked at the wound.
The doctor arrived. Before either the daughter or the sister of the
injured man could put the question, Turlington put it--"Will he live or
die?"
The doctor's careful finger probed the wound.
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