with herself, and still crocheting.] Oh—I can't exactly say—such an odd question to ask me!
Rosmer.
[Shakes his head.] Perhaps; I have no sense of humour—no respectable Norwegian has—and I do want to know—because, you see, if I was in love with you, it was a sin, and if I once convinced myself of that——
[Wanders across the room.
Rebecca.
[Breaking out.] Oh, these old ancestral prejudices! Here is your hat, and your stick, too; go and take a walk.
[Rosmer takes hat and stick, first, then goes out and takes a walk; presently Madam Helseth appears, and tells Rebecca something. Rebecca tells her something. They whisper together. Madam Helseth nods, and shows in Rector Kroll, who keeps his hat in his hand, and sits on a chair.
Kroll.
I merely called for the purpose of informing you that I consider you an artful and designing person, but that, on the whole, considering your birth and moral antecedents, you know—[nods at her]—it is not surprising. [Rebecca walks about wringing her hands.] Why, what is the matter? Did you really not know that you had no right to your father's name? I'd no idea you would mind my mentioning such a trifle!
Rebecca.
[Breaking out.] I do mind. I am an emancipated enigma, but I retain a few little prejudices still. I don't like owning to my real age, and I do prefer to be legitimate. And, after your information—of which I was quite ignorant, as my mother, the late Mrs. Gamvik, never once alluded to it—I feel I must confess everything. Strong-minded advanced women are like that. Here is Rosmer. [Rosmer enters with his hat and stick.] Rosmer, I want to tell you and Rector Kroll a little story. Let us sit down, dear, all three of us. [They sit down, mechanically, on chairs.] A long time ago, before the play began—[in a voice scarcely audible]—in Ibsenite dramas, all the interesting things somehow do happen before the play begins—;
Rosmer.
But, Rebecca, I know all this.
Kroll.
[Looks hard at her.] Perhaps I had better go?
Rebecca.
No—I will be short. This was it. I wanted to take my share in the life of the New Era, and march onward with Rosmer. There was one dismal, insurmountable barrier—[to Rosmer, who nods gravely]—Beata! I understood where your deliverance lay—and I acted. I drove Beata into the mill-race. … There!
Rosmer.
[After a short silence.] H'm! Well, Kroll—[takes up his hat]—if you're thinking of walking home, I'll go too. I'm going to be orthodox once more—after this!
Kroll.
[Severely and impressively, to Rebecca.] A nice sort of young woman you are! [Both go out hastily, without looking at Rebecca.
Rebecca.
[Speaks to herself, under her breath.] Now I have done it. I wonder why. [Pulls bell-rope.] Madam Helseth, I have just had a glimpse of two rushing White Horses. Bring down my hair-trunk.
[Enter Madam Helseth, with large hair-trunk, as Curtain falls.
ACT FOUR
Late evening. Rebecca West stands by a lighted lamp, with a shade over it, packing sandwiches, &c., in a reticule, with a faint smile. The antimacassar is on the sofa. Enter Rosmer.
Rosmer.
[Seeing the sandwiches, &c.] Sandwiches? Then you are going! Why, on earth—I can't understand!
Rebecca.
Dear, you never can. Rosmershölm is too much for me. But how did you get on with Kroll?
Rosmer.
We have made it up. He has convinced me that the work of ennobling men was several sizes too large for me—so I am going to let it alone——
Rebecca.
[With her faint smile.] There I almost think, dear, that you are wise.
Rosmer.
[As if annoyed.] What, so you don't believe in me either, Rebecca—you never did!
[Sits listlessly on chair.
Rebecca.
Not much, dear, when you are left to yourself—but I've another confession to make.
Rosmer.
What, another? I really can't stand any more confessions just now!
Rebecca.
[Sitting close to him.] It is only a little one. I bullied Beata into the mill-race—because of a wild uncontrollable—— [Rosmer moves uneasily.] Sit still, dear—uncontrollable fancy—for you!
Rosmer.
[Goes and sits on sofa.] Oh, my goodness, Rebecca—you mustn't, you know!
[He jumps up and down as if embarrassed.
"Oh, my goodness, Rebecca—you mustn't, you know!"
Rebecca.
Don't be alarmed, dear, it is all over now. After living alone with you in solitude, when you showed me all your thoughts without reserve—little by little, somehow the fancy passed off. I caught the Rosmer view of life badly, and dulness descended on my soul as an extinguisher upon one of our Northern dips. The Rosmer view of life is ennobling, very—but hardly lively. And I've more yet to tell you.
Rosmer.
[Turning it off.] Isn't that enough for one evening?
Rebecca.
[Almost voiceless.] No, dear. I have a Past—behind me!
Rosmer.
Behind you? How strange. I had an idea of that sort already. [Starts, as if
