Our American Cousin Tom Taylor (top ebook reader .txt) 📖

epub:type="z3998:stage-direction">Who has watched. Now, Sir Edward, shall I ring for the servants to kick me out? Sir Edward Trenchard Nay Mr. Coyle, you must pardon my outburst, you know I am hasty, and⁠— Florence Trenchard Without. Papa, dear! Enters gaily, starts on seeing Mr. Coyle. Papa, pardon my breaking in on business, but our American cousin has come, such an original⁠—and we are only waiting for you to escort us to the field. Sir Edward Trenchard I will come directly, my love. Mr. Coyle, my dear, you did not see him. Florence Trenchard Disdainfully. Oh! yes, I saw him, papa. Sir Edward Trenchard Nay, Florence, your hand to Mr. Coyle. Aside. I insist. Florence Trenchard Papa. Frightened at his look, gives her hand. Mr. Coyle attempts to kiss it, she snatches it away and crosses to L. Sir Edward Trenchard Crosses to L. Come, Florence. Mr. Coyle, we will join you in the park. Come, my love, take my arm. Hurries her off, L. 1 E. Mr. Coyle Shallow, selfish fool. She warned you of me did she? And you did not heed her; you shall both pay dearly. She, for her suspicions, and you that you did not share them. Walks up and down. How lucky the seals were not cut from that mortgage, when the release was given. ’Tis like the silly security of the Trenchard’s. This mortgage makes Ravensdale mine, while the release that restores it to its owner lies in the recess of the bureau, whose secret my father revealed to me on his deathbed. Enter Murcott, L. 1 E. Write to the mortgagee of the Fanhill and Ellenthrope estates, to foreclose before the week is out, and tell Walters and Brass to put in execution today. We’ll prick this windbag of a Baronet. Abel, we have both a bone to pick with him and his daughter. Murcott starts. Why, what’s the matter? Abel Murcott Nothing, the dizziness I’ve had lately. Mr. Coyle Brandy in the evening, brandy in the morning, brandy all night. What a fool you are, Murcott. Abel Murcott Who knows that as well as I do? Mr. Coyle If you would but keep the money out of your mouth, there’s the making of a man in you yet. Abel Murcott No, no, it’s gone too far, it’s gone too far, thanks to the man who owns this house, you know all about it. How he found me a thriving, sober lad, flogging the village children through their spelling book. How he took a fancy to me as he called it, and employed me here to teach his son and Miss Florence. His voice falters. Then remember how I forgot who and what I was, and was cuffed out of the house like a dog. How I lost my school, my good name, but still hung about the place, they all looked askance at me, you don’t know how that kills the heart of a man, then I took to drink and sank down, down, till I came to this. Mr. Coyle You owe Sir Edward revenge, do you not? You shall have a rare revenge on him, that mortgage you found last week puts the remainder of the property in my reach, and I close my hand on it unless he will consent to my terms. Abel Murcott You can drive a hard bargain. I know. Mr. Coyle And a rare price I ask for his forbearance, Abel⁠—his daughter’s hand. Abel Murcott Florence? Mr. Coyle Yes, Florence marries Richard Coyle. Richard Coyle steps into Sir Edward’s estates. There, you dog, will not that be a rare revenge. So follow me with those papers. Crosses to L. And now to lay the mine that will topple over the pride of the Trenchards. Exit L. 1 E. Abel Murcott He marry Florence! Florence Trenchard! My Florence. Mine! Florence his wife. No, no, better a thousand times she had been mine, low as I am, when I dreampt that dream, but it shan’t be, it shan’t be. Tremblingly putting papers in bag. If I can help her, sot though I am. Yes, I can help her, if the shock don’t break me down. Oh! my poor muddled brain, surely there was a release with it when I found it. I must see Florence to warn her and expose Mr. Coyle’s villainy. Oh! how my poor head throbs when I try to. I shall die if I don’t have a drop of brandy, yes brandy. Exit, L. 1 E. Scene 3

Chamber in 3. at Trenchard Manor. Large shower bath near R. 3 E. Toilet table with draw, L. 2 E. Small bottle in draw with red sealing wax on cork.

Asa Trenchard discovered seated, R. with foot on table, smoking a cigar. Valise on floor in front of him. Mr. Binny discovered standing by his side. Asa Trenchard Wal, I guess I begin to feel kinder comfortable here in this place, if it wan’t for this tarnal fat critter. He don’t seem to have any work to do, but swells out his big bosom like an old turkey-cock in laying time. I do wonder what he’s here for? Do they think I mean to absquatulate with the spoons? Mr. Binny attempts to take valise⁠—Asa Trenchard puts his foot on it. Let that sweat. That’s my plunder. Mr. Binny Will you have the kindness to give me your keys, hif you please, sir? Asa Trenchard What do you want with my keys? Mr. Binny To put your things away in the wardrobe, sir. Asa Trenchard Wal, I calculate if my two shirts, three bosoms, four collars, and two pair of socks were to get into that everlasting big bunk, they’d think themselves so all-fired small I should never be able to crawl into them again. Mr. Binny Will you take a baath before you dress? Asa Trenchard Take a baath? Mr. Binny A baath. Asa Trenchard I suppose you mean a bath. Wal, man, I calkalate I ain’t going to expose myself to the shakes by getting into cold water in this cruel cold climate of yours, so make tracks. Mr. Binny Make