JOHN.—By jingo, you're a good-plucked one! I knew he was, Miss,—I told you he was. [Exit, shaking hands with his master, and with Miss P., and dancing for joy. Exit CLARENCE, scared, out of window.]
JOHN [without].—Bulkeley! pack up the Capting's luggage!
MILLIKEN.—How can I ask your pardon, Miss Prior? In my wife's name I ask it—in the name of that angel whose dying-bed you watched and soothed—of the innocent children whom you have faithfully tended since.
MISS P.—Ah, sir! it is granted when you speak so to me.
MILLIKEN.—Eh, eh—d—don't call me sir!
MISS P.—It is for me to ask pardon for hiding what you know now: but if I had told you—you—you never would have taken me into your house—your wife never would.
MILLIKEN.—No, no. [Weeping.]
MISS P.—My dear, kind Captain Touchit knows it all. It was by his counsel I acted. He it was who relieved our distress. Ask him whether my conduct was not honorable—ask him whether my life was not devoted to my parents—ask him when—when I am gone.
MILLIKEN.—When you are gone, Julia! Why are you going? Why should you go, my love—that is—why need you go, in the devil's name?
MISS P.—Because, when your mother—when your mother-in-law come to hear that your children's governess has been a dancer on the stage, they will send me away, and you will not have the power to resist them. They ought to send me away, sir; but I have acted honestly by the children and their poor mother, and you'll think of me kindly when—I—am—gone?