ALLMERS. Yes, but still—. Father, who in other ways was so gentle and warm-hearted—so kindly towards everyone—
ASTA. [Quietly.] Mother, too, was not always as she ought to have been.
ALLMERS. Your mother was not!
ASTA. Perhaps not always.
ALLMERS. Towards father, do you mean?
ASTA. Yes.
ALLMERS. I never noticed that.
ASTA. [Struggling with her tears, rises.] Oh, my dear Alfred—let them rest—those who are gone. [She goes towards the right.]
ALLMERS. [Rising.] Yes, let them rest. [Wringing his hands.] But those who are gone—it is they that won't let us rest, Asta. Neither day nor night.
ASTA. [Looks warmly at him.] Time will make it all seem easier, Alfred.