CHRISTINE. Aye, aye—that you shall!
ELIS. But do you think my birches and lindens will look as they used to—don't you think the same dark veil will shroud them that has been lying over all nature and life for us ever since the day when father—[Points to the empty arm-chair which is in the shadow.] Look, the sun has gone.
CHRISTINE. It will come again and stay longer.
ELIS. That's true. As the days lengthen the shadows shorten.
CHRISTINE. Yes, Elis, we are going toward the light, believe me.
ELIS. Sometimes I believe that, and when I think of all that has happened, all the misery, and compare it with the present—then I am happy. Last year you were not sitting there, for you had gone away from me and broken off our betrothal. Do you know, that was the darkest time of all. I was dying literally bit by bit; but then you came back to me—and I lived. Why did you go away from me?
CHRISTINE. Oh; I don't know—it seems to me now as if there was no reason. I had an impulse to go—and I went, as tho' I were walking in my sleep. When I saw you again I awoke—and was happy.
ELIS. And now we shall go on together forevermore. If you left me now I should die in earnest.—Here comes mother. Say nothing, let her live in her imaginary world in which she believes that father is a martyr and that all those he sacrificed are rascals.
MRS. HEYST [Comes from kitchen. She is paring an apple. She is simply dressed and speaks in an innocent voice]. Good afternoon, children. Will you have your apple dumpling hot or cold?
ELIS. Cold, mother dear.