The Lady from the Sea Part 10

Arnholm (jestingly). Is that really so, little Missie? (To BOLETTE.) Shall we two see if she is right?

Bolette (suppressing a smile). Very well, let's go. (They go out to the left, arm in arm.)

Hilde (to LYNGSTRAND). Shall we go too?

Lyngstrand. Arm in arm?

Hilde. Oh, why not? For aught I care!

Lyngstrand (taking her arm, laughing contentedly). This is a jolly lark.

Hilde. Lark?

Lyngstrand. Yes; because it looks exactly as if we were engaged.

Hilde. I'm sure you've never walked out arm in arm with a lady before, Mr. Lyngstrand. (They go off.)

w.a.n.gel (who is standing beside the beacon). Dear Ellida, now we have a moment to ourselves.

Ellida. Yes; come and sit down here, by me.

w.a.n.gel (sitting down). It is so free and quiet. Now we can have a little talk together.

Ellida. What about?

w.a.n.gel. About yourself, and then about us both. Ellida, I see very well that it can't go on like this.

Ellida. What do you propose instead?

w.a.n.gel. Perfect confidence, dear. A true life together--as before.

Ellida. Oh, if that could be! But it is so absolutely impossible!

w.a.n.gel. I think I understand you, from certain things you have let fall now and again.

Ellida (pa.s.sionately). Oh, you do not! Don't say you understand!

w.a.n.gel. Yes. Yours is an honest nature, Ellida--yours is a faithful mind.

Ellida. It is.

w.a.n.gel. Any position in which you could feel safe and happy must be a completely true and real one.

Ellida (looking eagerly at him). Well, and then?

w.a.n.gel. You are not suited to be a man's second wife.

Ellida. What makes you think that?

w.a.n.gel. It has often flashed across me like a foreboding. Today it was clear to me. The children's memorial feast--you saw in me a kind of accomplice. Well, yes; a man's memories, after all, cannot be wiped out--not so mine, anyhow. It isn't in me.

Ellida. I know that. Oh! I know that so well.

w.a.n.gel. But you are mistaken all the same. To you it is almost as if the children's mother were still living--as if she were still here invisible amongst us. You think my heart is equally divided between you and her.

It is this thought that shocks you. You see something immoral in our relation, and that is why you no longer can or will live with me as my wife.

Ellida (rising). Have you seen all that, w.a.n.gel--seen into all this?

w.a.n.gel. Yes; today I have at last seen to the very heart of it--to its utmost depths.

Ellida. To its very heart, you say? Oh, do not think that!

w.a.n.gel (rising). I see very well that there is more than this, dear Ellida.

Ellida (anxiously). You know there is more?

w.a.n.gel. Yes. You cannot bear your surroundings here. The mountains crush you, and weigh upon your heart. Nothing is open enough for you here.

The heavens above you are not s.p.a.cious enough. The air is not strong and bracing enough.

Ellida. You are right. Night and day, winter and summer, it weighs upon me--this irresistible home-sickness for the sea.

w.a.n.gel. I know it well, dear Ellida (laying his hands upon her head).

And that is why the poor sick child shall go home to her own again.

Ellida. What do you mean?

w.a.n.gel. Something quite simple. We are going away.

Ellida. Going away?

w.a.n.gel. Yes. Somewhere by the open sea--a place where you can find a true home, after your own heart.

Ellida. Oh, dear, do not think of that! That is quite impossible. You can live happily nowhere on earth but here!

w.a.n.gel. That must be as it may. And, besides, do you think I can live happily here--without you?

Ellida. But I am here. And I will stay here. You have me.

w.a.n.gel. Have I, Ellida?

Ellida. Oh! don't speak of all this. Why, here you have all that you love and strive for. All your life's work lies here.

w.a.n.gel. That must be as it may, I tell you. We are going away from here--are going somewhere--out there. That is quite settled now, dear Ellida.

Ellida. What do you think we should gain by that?

w.a.n.gel. You would regain your health and peace of mind.