MRS. S. He will never resign the hand of her he loves, beggared though she be. (here POSTLETHWAITE comes out of room cautiously, slips the letter into RATCLIFFE’S hand, and runs out at door, L. C.)
RAT. (presenting letter to MRS. SOMERTON) From Mr. Percy Postlethwaite, madam. (aside) If he has deceived me I’ll make Arabella Row, Pimlico, the scene of a terrific drama.
MRS. S. (reading letter) “Ever beloved cousin, I need not say that the loss of your fortune is nothing to me——” (to RATCLIFFE) You hear?
RAT. (aside) The devil take him!
MRS. S. (reading) “——But as the presence of a handsome, dashing young man like Captain Ratcliffe, under your roof in the middle of the night will necessarily afford materials for all the scandal mongers in the neighbourhood, I reluctantly tear your image from my heart, and bid you farewell for ever."
RAT. Then you are free—free to bestow your heart, your hand!
MRS. S. Nay, sir, what if my heart were no longer at my disposal? (RATCLIFFE starts) What if it had long since been given to one who once preserved my life at the peril of his own, and whose letters faithfully preserved (slowly and with emotion drawing forth a packet of letters from her bosom, and looking down) enabled me to recognise his handwriting.
RAT. Can it be possible? (with rapture)
MRS. S. That I have been taking my revenge on you for the last half hour without your perceiving it! (holding out her hand)
RAT. Oh, madam! (kissing her hand)