Yes; for it would help me so much; as an artist, you understand. And she, having no special vocation of her own in life, can so easily do it.—But it is kind of her, all the same.
Hilda.
Do you think, then, that you can get on quicker with your group if you know that Boletta is thinking of you at home here?
Lyngstrand.
Yes, I imagine so. You see, the knowledge that somewhere in the world a young, exquisite, silent woman is secretly dreaming of one—I think it must be so—so——. Well, I scarcely know what to call it.
Hilda.
Do you mean—thrilling?
Lyngstrand.
Thrilling? Oh yes. It is thrilling I mean; or something of that sort. [Looks at her a moment.] You are so bright, Miss Hilda; really you are very bright, you know. When I come home again you will be just about as old as your sister is now. Perhaps you will look as she looks now; and perhaps you will have grown like her in mind as well. Very likely you will be, as it were, both yourself and her—in one body, so to speak.
Hilda.