A long, deep sleep, I think.
Mrs. Borkman.
[With an outburst.] Ella! [Controls herself and asks in a low voice.] Did he do it—of his own accord?
Ella Rentheim.
No.
Mrs. Borkman.
[Relieved.] Not by his own hand then?
Ella Rentheim.
No. It was an ice-cold metal hand that gripped him by the heart.
Mrs. Borkman.