Ellida. What did you think?
Arnholm. I naturally thought that was only a make-believe of yours. And that you were sitting here grieving because you had found out a family feast was being kept secret; because your husband and his children live a life of remembrances in which you have no part.
Ellida. Oh! no, no! That may be as it may. I have no right to claim my husband wholly and solely for myself.
Arnholm. I should say you had.
Ellida. Yes. Yet, all the same, I have not. That is it. Why, I, too, live in something from which they are shut out.
Arnholm. You! (In lower tone.) Do you mean?—you, you do not really love your husband!
Ellida. Oh! yes, yes! I have learnt to love him with all my heart! And that's why it is so terrible-so inexplicable—so absolutely inconceivable!
Arnholm. Now you must and shall confide all your troubles to me. Will you, Mrs. Wangel?
Ellida. I cannot, dear friend. Not now, in any case. Later, perhaps.
(BOLETTE comes out into the verandah, and goes down into the garden.)