Jane. Wasn’t he, miss? Well, he’s paying for all his sins now. It’s providential, I’ve no doubt.
Whitwell (aloud). Pity me, Miss Coddle. A dreadful misfortune has befallen me since I had the pleasure of meeting you at the Thorntons’. My horse fell with me, and in falling I struck on my head. I have been totally deaf ever since.
Eglantine. Poor, poor young man! My heart bleeds for him.
Whitwell. Ordinary conversation I am incapable of hearing; but you, Miss Coddle, whose loveliness has never been absent from my memory since that happy day, you I am certain I could understand with ease. My eyes will help me to interpret the movements of your lips. Speak to me, and the poor sufferer whose sorrows awake your healing pity will surely hear.
Eglantine. Can this be possible?
Whitwell. You said, “Can this be possible?” I am sure.
Eglantine. Yes.
Whitwell. I knew it.
Jane. The dickens! Can he hear with his eyes? (Aside.) I hope old Coddle won’t never get that ’ere accomplishment.
Eglantine. Oh, how sad! What a misfortune! But a deaf husband! Oh, impossible! (Exit slowly, I. U., much distressed.)