Mrs. Cod. (Rising with dignity.)—Silence Samuel! you have deceived me; I could have pardoned any thing but this. As to the subject of the poor girl, that you have stated belongs to you, that I freely forgave.
Mrs. Lynx. (Violently.)—’Tis false, Mrs. Coddle! I asked the question of the bearer of that letter—I thought that she might be the parent of the girl—but, no, no; your husband has but supported mine in a falsehood; he never had a daughter. And you, sir,—(to LYNX)—are discovered and laid bare; but I shall leave you this day for ever.
All. Nay, nay.
Mrs. Cod. And I shall quit my wretch.—(She advances to CODDLE, who buries his face in his hands.)—From this moment, sir, we separate; go to your wife, the woman who lawfully claims you, and never look me in the face again. We were an ill-assorted pair from the first; but your affected apathy is now accounted for—it arose from an evil conscience. Cold-hearted, deliberate deceiver! farewell for ever!—(MRS. CODDLE rushes out, L. H.)
Coddle. Mary, come back; come back; hear me.—(He runs to the L., but suddenly stops.)—I dare not follow her; I shall meet the other. No, no; I must fly—I must leave the country—’tis now no home for me.
Lynx. Sit still, my friend; be composed.
Coddle. I can’t—I’ll leave the house—I’ll—— Ah, this door—(pointing R. H.)—leads to the canal; I’ll drown myself—I’m desperate enough—the sun has been on the water all day, so I’ve nothing to fear—I am resolved upon my course—felo-de-see, nothing else—adieu, my friends—I’m a discovered, a guilty monster—and this is the last time that you will ever see the distracted, wretched, Samuel Coddle.—(CODDLE rushes off, R. H.)
Mr. Young. (Starting up.)—The man will drown himself!
Mrs. Y. No, he wont—sit still; you will only make matters worse.