Madam Helseth. Will he venture across the foot-bridge?
Rebecca. That’s what I want to see. (After a pause.) No, he’s turning. He’s going by the upper road again. (Leaves the window.) A long way round.
Madam Helseth. Dear Lord, yes. No wonder the Pastor thinks twice about setting foot on that bridge. A place where a thing like that has happened—
Rebecca. (Folding up her work.) They cling to their dead here at Rosmersholm.
Madam Helseth. Now I would say, Miss, that it’s the dead that clings to Rosmersholm.
Rebecca. (Looks at her.) The dead?
Madam Helseth. Yes, it’s almost as if they couldn’t tear themselves away from the folk that are left.
Rebecca. What makes you fancy that?
Madam Helseth. Well, if it weren’t for that, there would be no white horse, I suppose.