ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Pointing.] Look, there he lies, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Sleeping?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
A long, deep sleep, I think.
MRS. BORKMAN. [With an outburst.] Ella! [Controls herself and asks in a low voice.] Did he do it—of his own accord?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Relieved.] Not by his own hand then?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No. It was an ice-cold metal hand that gripped him by the heart.
MRS. BORKMAN. [To THE MAID.] Go for help. Get the men to come up from the farm.
THE MAID.
Yes, I will, ma'am. [To herself.] Lord save us!
[She goes out through the wood to the right.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Standing behind the bench.] So the night air has killed him——