Mrs. Borkman.
[With a suppressed scream.] It is her sledge!
Ella Rentheim.
Perhaps it’s another.
Mrs. Borkman.
No, no, it is Mrs. Wilton’s covered sledge! I know the silver bells! Hark! Now they are driving right past here, at the foot of the hill!
Ella Rentheim.
[Quickly.] Gunhild, if you want to cry out to him, now is the time! Perhaps after all——! [The tinkle of the bells sounds close at hand, in the wood.] Make haste, Gunhild! Now they are right under us!
Mrs. Borkman.
[Stands for a moment undecided, then she stiffens and says sternly and coldly.] No. I will not cry out to him. Let Erhart Borkman pass away from me—far, far away—to what he calls life and happiness.