ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Also listening.] It sounds like sledge-bells.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a suppressed scream.] It is her sledge!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Perhaps it's another.
MRS. BORKMAN. No, no, it is Mrs. Wilton's covered sledge! I know the silver bells! Hark! Now they are driving right past here, at the foot of the hill!
ELLA RENTHEIM. [Quickly.] Gunhild, if you want to cry out to him, now is the time! Perhaps after all——! [The tinkle of the bells sounds close at hand, in the wood.] Make haste, Gunhild! Now they are right under us!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Stands for a moment undecided, then she stiffens and says
sternly and coldly.] No. I will not cry out to him. Let Erhart
Borkman pass away from me—far, far away—to what he calls life
and happiness.
[The sound dies away in the distance.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[After a moment.] Now the bells are out of hearing.
MRS. BORKMAN.
They sounded like funeral bells.
BORKMAN. [With a dry suppressed laugh.] Oho—it is not for me they are ringing to-night!
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, but for me—and for him who has gone from me.