Yes, more and more; but I ought to have known it from the first. Oh, I did really know it then too, but I would not acknowledge it to myself. I loved her so much, you see! And consequently I thought first of myself. In fact, I was utterly and unpardonably selfish.
Arnholm.
H’m,—I am afraid every man is a trifle selfish under those circumstances. But I can’t say that I have noticed that vice in you, Dr. Wangel.
Wangel.
[Wandering uneasily up and down.] Oh yes! And I have been so since, as well. I am so much, much older than she; I ought to have been to her like a father and a guide in one. I ought, to have done my best to develop and clarify her intelligence. But unfortunately I have done nothing of the sort. I have not had energy enough, you see! And in fact I preferred to have her just as she was. But then she grew worse and worse, and I was at my wits’ end to know what to do [Lower.] That is why I turned to you in my perplexity, and asked you to come to us.
Arnholm.
[Looks at him in astonishment.] What! Was that why you wrote to me?
Wangel.
Yes; but don’t say anything about it.
Arnholm.