ERHART.
I have found it, already!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Shrieks.] Erhart! [ERHART goes quickly to the hall door and throws it open.]
ERHART.
[Calls out.] f.a.n.n.y, you can come in now!
[MRS. WILTON, in outdoor wraps, appears on the threshold.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With uplifted hands.] Mrs. Wilton!
MRS. WILTON.
[Hesitating a little, with an enquiring glance at ERHART.] Do you want me to----?
ERHART.
Yes, now you can come in. I have told them everything.
[MRS. WILTON comes forward into the room. ERHART closes the door behind her. She bows formally to BORKMAN, who returns her bow in silence. A short pause.
MRS. WILTON.
[In a subdued but firm voice.] So the word has been spoken-- and I suppose you all think I have brought a great calamity upon this house?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Slowly, looking hard at her.] You have crushed the last remnant of interest in life for me. [With an outburst.] But all of this--all this is utterly impossible!
MRS. WILTON.
I can quite understand that it must appear impossible to you, Mrs. Borkman.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, you can surely see for yourself that it is impossible.
Or what----?
MRS. WILTON.
I should rather say that it seems highly improbable. But it's so, none the less.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Turning.] Are you really in earnest about this, Erhart?
ERHART.
This means happiness for me, mother--all the beauty and happiness of life. That is all I can say to you.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Clenching her hands together; to MRS. WILTON.] Oh, how you have cajoled and deluded my unhappy son!
MRS. WILTON.
[Raising her head proudly.] I have done nothing of the sort.
MRS. BORKMAN.
You have not, say you!
MRS. WILTON.
No. I have neither cajoled nor deluded him. Erhart came to me of his own free will. And of my own free will I went out half-way to meet him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Measuring her scornfully with her eye.] Yes, indeed! That I can easily believe.
MRS. WILTON.
[With self-control.] Mrs. Borkman, there are forces in human life that you seem to know very little about.
MRS. BORKMAN.
What forces, may I ask?
MRS. WILTON.
The forces which ordain that two people shall join their lives together, indissolubly--and fearlessly.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a smile.] I thought you were already indissolubly bound-- to another.
MRS. WILTON.
[Shortly.] That other has deserted me.
MRS. BORKMAN.
But he is still living, they say.
MRS. WILTON.
He is dead to me.
ERHART.
[Insistently.] Yes, mother, he is dead to f.a.n.n.y. And besides, this other makes no difference to me!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looking sternly at him.] So you know all this--about the other.
ERHART.
Yes, mother, I know quite well--all about it!
MRS. BORKMAN.
And yet you can say that it makes no difference to you?
ERHART.
[With defiant petulance.] I can only tell you that it is happiness I must have! I am young! I want to live, live, live!
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, you are young, Erhart. Too young for this.
MRS. WILTON.
[Firmly and earnestly.] You must not think, Mrs. Borkman, that I haven't said the same to him. I have laid my whole life before him. Again and again I have reminded him that I am seven years older than he----