Part 15 (1/2)

MRS. ALVING. Yes; I have got on without you. That is true.

[A silence. Twilight slowly begins to fall. OSWALD paces to and fro across the room. He has laid his cigar down.]

OSWALD. [Stops beside MRS. ALVING.] Mother, may I sit on the sofa beside you?

MRS. ALVING. [Makes room for him.] Yes, do, my dear boy.

OSWALD. [Sits down.] There is something I must tell you, mother.

MRS. ALVING. [Anxiously.] Well?

OSWALD. [Looks fixedly before him.] For I can't go on hiding it any longer.

MRS. ALVING. Hiding what? What is it?

OSWALD. [As before.] I could never bring myself to write to you about it; and since I've come home--

MRS. ALVING. [Seizes him by the arm.] Oswald, what is the matter?

OSWALD. Both yesterday and to-day I have tried to put the thoughts away from me--to cast them off; but it's no use.

MRS. ALVING. [Rising.] Now you must tell me everything, Oswald!

OSWALD. [Draws her down to the sofa again.] Sit still; and then I will try to tell you.--I complained of fatigue after my journey--

MRS. ALVING. Well? What then?

OSWALD. But it isn't that that is the matter with me; not any ordinary fatigue--

MRS. ALVING. [Tries to jump up.] You are not ill, Oswald?

OSWALD. [Draws her down again.] Sit still, mother. Do take it quietly.

I'm not downright ill, either; not what is commonly called ”ill.”

[Clasps his hands above his head.] Mother, my mind is broken down--ruined--I shall never be able to work again! [With his hands before his face, he buries his head in her lap, and breaks into bitter sobbing.]

MRS. ALVING. [White and trembling.] Oswald! Look at me! No, no; it's not true.

OSWALD. [Looks up with despair in his eyes.] Never to be able to work again! Never!--never! A living death! Mother, can you imagine anything so horrible?

MRS. ALVING. My poor boy! How has this horrible thing come upon you?

OSWALD. [Sitting upright again.] That's just what I cannot possibly grasp or understand. I have never led a dissipated life never, in any respect. You mustn't believe that of me, mother! I've never done that.

MRS. ALVING. I am sure you haven't, Oswald.

OSWALD. And yet this has come upon me just the same--this awful misfortune!

MRS. ALVING. Oh, but it will pa.s.s over, my dear, blessed boy. It's nothing but over-work. Trust me, I am right.