Fer. No, but hang it, this is a serious matter to me. It's a direct infringement on my patent. That's what it is. Who brought you round? Sentiment is sentiment,—but damme, justice is justice; and I mean to know who brought you round, and then prosecute him.
Mrs. W. Silence, miscreant. I have not, as you put it, been brought round, because, your vile scheme having been frustrated, I was never rendered insensible. The liquid in your life-destroying phial, Ferdinand Swift, was cast away by these hands, and pure and innocent water took its place.
Fer. Then you never were frozen?
Mrs. W. Only so far as genuine horror can freeze.
Fer. But you went off?
Mrs. W. It was a masquerade—
Mr. W. What! Do you mean to say that you were sensible all the time that—
Mrs. W. I was conscious during the entire period. I was conscious, Mr. Watmuff, when you were gloating and exulting over what you believed to be my lifeless body.
Mr. W. (sinks in chair, and buries his face in his hands). Oh, don't! Spare me! spare me!
Mrs. W. I was conscious, Mr. Watmuff, when you abstracted from my pocket the key of the cellar.