Oswald. Mother—!
Mrs. Alving. And so the inevitable happened!
Oswald. What was the inevitable?
Mrs. Alving. You said yourself this evening what would happen in your case if you stayed at home.
Oswald. Do you mean by that, that father—?
Mrs. Alving. Your poor father never found any outlet for the overmastering joy of life that was in him. And I brought no holiday spirit into his home, either.
Oswald. You didn't, either?
Mrs. Alving. I had been taught about duty, and the sort of thing that I believed in so long here. Everything seemed to turn upon duty—my duty, or his duty—and I am afraid I made your poor father's home unbearable to him, Oswald.
Oswald. Why didn't you ever say anything about it to me in your letters?
Mrs. Alving. I never looked at it as a thing I could speak of to you, who were his son.