Ella Rentheim.
[Quietly.] Long enough for me, at any rate.
Borkman.
[Eagerly, changing the subject.] But what in all the world can have brought on this illness? You, who have always lived such a healthy and regular life? What can have brought it on?
Ella Rentheim.
[Looking at him.] The doctors thought that perhaps at one time in my life I had had to go through some great stress of emotion.
Borkman.
[Firing up.] Emotion! Aha, I understand! You mean that it is my fault?
Ella Rentheim.
[With increasing inward agitation.] It is too late to go into that matter now! But I must have my heart’s own child again before I go! It is so unspeakably sad for me to think that I must go away from all that is called life—away from sun, and light, and air—and not leave behind me one single human being who will think of me—who will remember me lovingly and mournfully—as a son remembers and thinks of the mother he has lost.