MRS. S. Boldwig.
RAT. Boldwig! (_aside_) My old colonel, damn it, I've written a
hundred letters to him.
MRS. S. The colonel fancies the robber may be still concealed on the
premises.
RAT. (_forcing a laugh_) Ha, ha! Still on the premises, a very likely
matter.
MRS. S. Why not? So bold and impudent a villain, as you very properly
designate him. How fortunate it was that I remembered the existence of
that "important paper."
RAT. Yes, it was a very brilliant idea of yours, indeed.
MRS. S. And how still more fortunate that Colonel Boldwig at once
recognised the handwriting, for of course it will infallibly lead to
the capture of the unconscionable scoundrel, as you very properly
called him.
RAT. (_rather nettled_) You seem remarkably anxious to punish this
unhappy misguided being, ma'am.
MRS. S. Heyday! did you not say to me, just now, "Madam, as the
representative of the law, I tell you that it matters not what his
social position may be; we must not mince matters." (_imitating
RATCLIFFE'S manner._)
RAT. (_aside_) She's laughing at me, that's quite clear. (_aloud_) Of
course not; but--but--(_drawing his chair closer to MRS.
SOMERTON_)--but--(_aside_) Pon my life it requires more courage than I
imagined. (_aloud_) I was about to observe that the circumstances
attending this robbery are so--so whimsical.
MRS. S. Whimsical?
RAT. No, not whimsical, eccentric! that one is almost inclined to
ascribe it to some other motive.
MRS. S. (_aside_) We are coming to it by degrees; (_aloud_) and pray,
sir, what other motive can your lively imagination suggest?
RAT. (_drawing still nearer, and after a short hesitation, then in a
low and impassioned tone_) Love!
MRS. S. (_aside and smiling_) At last. (_aloud_) Love! ha, ha, ha!
Love of bank notes!
RAT. (_earnestly_) No. Love for you. Yes, madam, cannot you imagine an
admiration so boundless--a passion so irresistible, that it might
prompt a man?
MRS. S. To rob me of £15,000, and frighten me out of senses into the
bargain.
RAT. (_still more earnestly_) Yes, madam, if by so doing, if by
apparently reducing the woman to poverty, he hoped to obtain a
voluntary resignation of her hand from a rival, who loves her for her
fortune only.
MRS. S. Really, Captain Ratcliffe, I must confess you have imagined a
marvellous pleasant love story.
RAT. Not more marvellous than true. Here are the proofs, (_gives
pocket book to MRS. SOMERTON_) and now think, madam, what a love must
that man's be who could thus risk his name, character, and reputation,
with the sole hope of preserving you your liberty.
MRS. S. But unfortunately the denouement of this romance of real life
is wanting; the rival does not resign the lady's hand.
RAT. (_aside, and looking towards room, R. 2 E._) Why the devil
doesn't he make haste with the letters? (_POSTLETHWAITE looks in at
the door_)
MRS. S. (_catching a glimpse of him_) No, sir, I know my cousin too
well--he loves me too dearly to care about my loss of fortune; _he_
will be only too happy to work for me, toil for me, slave for me.