MILLIKEN.--You only what? You only insulted a lady under my roof--the
friend and nurse of your dead sister--the guardian of my children. You
only took advantage of a defenceless girl, and would have extorted your
infernal pay out of her fear. You miserable sneak and coward!
KICK.--Hallo! Come, come! I say I won't stand this sort of chaff. Dammy,
I'll send a friend to you!
MILLIKEN.--Go out of that window, sir. March! or I will tell my servant,
John Howell, to kick you out, you wretched little scamp! Tell that big
brute,--what's-his-name?--Lady Kicklebury's man, to pack this young
man's portmanteau and bear's-grease pots; and if ever you enter these
doors again, Clarence Kicklebury, by the heaven that made me!--by your
sister who is dead!--I will cane your life out of your bones. Angel in
heaven! Shade of my Arabella--to think that your brother in your house
should be found to insult the guardian of your children!
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.