Mrs. Alving. You are right there.
Manders. And his conception of his father is what you inspired and encouraged by your letters.
Mrs. Alving. Yes, I was swayed by duty and consideration for others; that was why I lied to my son, year in and year out. Oh, what a coward—what a coward I have been!
Manders. You have built up a happy illusion in your son's mind, Mrs. Alving—and that is a thing you certainly ought not to undervalue.
Mrs. Alving. Ah, who knows if that is such a desirable thing after all!—But anyway I don't intend to put up with any goings on with Regina. I am not going to let him get the poor girl into trouble.
Manders. Good heavens, no—that would be a frightful thing!
Mrs. Alving. If only I knew whether he meant it seriously, and whether it would mean happiness for him.
Manders. In what way? I don't understand.
Mrs. Alving. But that is impossible; Regina is not equal to it, unfortunately.
Manders, I don't understand: What do you mean?