The Lady from the Sea Part 29

Arnholm. Well, you'll have to leave your father sooner or later.

And some time Hilde also will go her own way in life. That is only a question of time. Nothing more. And so there is nothing else that binds you, Bolette? Not any kind of connection?

Bolette. Nothing whatever. As far as that goes, I could leave at any moment.

Arnholm. Well, if that is so, dear Bolette, you shall go away with me!

Bolette (clapping her hands). Oh G.o.d! What joy to think of it!

Arnholm. For I hope you trust me fully?

Bolette. Indeed, I do!

Arnholm. And you dare to trust yourself and your future fully and confidently into my hands, Bolette? Is that true? You will dare to do this?

Bolette. Of course; how could I not do so? Could you believe anything else? You, who have been my old teacher--my teacher in the old days, I mean.

Arnholm. Not because of that. I will not consider that side of the matter; but--well, so you are free, Bolette! There is nothing that binds you, and so I ask you, if you could--if you could--bind yourself to me for life?

Bolette (steps back frightened). What are you saying?

Arnholm. For all your life, Bolette. Will you be my wife?

Bolette (half to herself). No, no, no! That is impossible, utterly impossible!

Arnholm. It is really so absolutely impossible for you to--

Bolette. But, surely, you cannot mean what you are saying, Mr. Arnholm!

(Looking at him.) Or--yet--was that what you meant when you offered to do so much for me?

Arnholm. You must listen to me one moment, Bolette. I suppose I have greatly surprised you!

Bolette. Oh! how could such a thing from you--how could it but--but surprise me!

Arnholm. Perhaps you are right. Of course, you didn't--you could not know it was for your sake I made this journey.

Bolette. Did you come here for--for my sake?

Arnholm. I did, Bolette. In the spring I received a letter from your father, and in it there was a pa.s.sage that made me think--hm--that you held your former teacher in--in a little more than friendly remembrance.

Bolette. How could father write such a thing?

Arnholm. He did not mean it so. But I worked myself into the belief that here was a young girl longing for me to come again--No, you mustn't interrupt me, dear Bolette! And--you see, when a man like myself, who is no longer quite young, has such a belief--or fancy, it makes an overwhelming impression. There grew within me a living, a grateful affection for you; I thought I must come to you, see you again, and tell you I shared the feelings that I fancied you had for me.

Bolette. And now you know it is not so!--that it was a mistake!

Arnholm. It can't be helped, Bolette. Your image, as I bear it within myself, will always be coloured and stamped with the impression that this mistake gave me. Perhaps you cannot understand this; but still it is so.

Bolette. I never thought such a thing possible.

Arnholm. But now you have seen that it is possible, what do you say now, Bolette? Couldn't you make up your mind to be--yes--to be my wife?

Bolette. Oh! it seems so utterly impossible, Mr. Arnholm. You, who have been my teacher! I can't imagine ever standing in any other relation towards you.

Arnholm. Well, well, if you think you really cannot--Then our old relations remain unchanged, dear Bolette.

Bolette. What do you mean?

Arnholm. Of course, to keep my promise all the same. I will take care you get out into the world and see something of it. Learn some things you really want to know; live safe and independent. Your future I shall provide for also, Bolette. For in me you will always have a good, faithful, trustworthy friend. Be sure of that.

Bolette. Good heavens! Mr. Arnholm, all that is so utterly impossible now.

Arnholm. Is that impossible too?

Bolette. Surely you can see that! After what you have just said to me, and after my answer--Oh! you yourself must see that it is impossible for me now to accept so very much from you. I can accept nothing from you--nothing after this.

Arnholm. So you would rather stay at home here, and let life pa.s.s you by?

Bolette. Oh! it is such dreadful misery to think of that.

Arnholm. Will you renounce knowing something of the outer world?

Renounce bearing your part in all that you yourself say you are hungering for? To know there is so infinitely much, and yet never really to understand anything of it? Think carefully, Bolette.

Bolette. Yes, yes! You are right, Mr. Arnholm.

Arnholm. And then, when one day your father is no longer here, then perhaps to be left helpless and alone in the world; or live to give yourself to another man--whom you, perhaps, will also feel no affection for--

Bolette. Oh, yes! I see how true all you say is. But still--and yet perhaps--

Arnholm (quickly). Well?

Bolette (looking at him hesitatingly). Perhaps it might not be so impossible after all.

Arnholm. What, Bolette?

Bolette. Perhaps it might be possible--to accept--what you proposed to me.

Arnholm. Do you mean that, after all, you might be willing to--that at all events you could give me the happiness of helping you as a steadfast friend?

Bolette. No, no, no! Never that, for that would be utterly impossible now. No--Mr. Arnholm--rather take me.

Arnholm. Bolette! You will?

Bolette. Yes, I believe I will.

Arnholm. And after all you will be my wife?

Bolette. Yes; if you still think that--that you will have me.

Arnholm. Think! (Seizing her hand.) Oh, thanks, thanks, Bolette. All else that you said--your former doubts--these do not frighten me. If I do not yet possess your whole heart, I shall know how to conquer it. Oh, Bolette, I will wait upon you hand and foot!