Arnholm (after thinking awhile). When I last crossed your path—out at Skjoldviken, I mean—Hm! That is long ago now.
Ellida. It's quite ten years since you were there with us.
Arnholm. Yes, about that. But when I think of you out there in the lighthouse! The heathen, as the old clergyman called you, because your father had named you, as he said, after an old ship, and hadn't given you a name fit for a Christian.
Ellida. Well, what then?
Arnholm. The last thing I should then have believed was that I should see you again down here as the wife of Wangel.
Ellida. No; at that time Wangel wasn't—at that time the girls' first mother was still living. Their real mother, so Arnholm. Of course, of course! But even if that had not been-even if he had been free—still, I could never have believed this would come about.
Ellida. Nor I. Never on earth—then.
Arnholm. Wangel is such a good fellow. So honourable. So thoroughly good and kind to all men.
Ellida (warmly and heartily). Yes, he is indeed.
Arnholm. But he must be so absolutely different from you, I fancy.