ACT FOURTH.

The Stranger.

[Climbs over the fence and comes into the garden.] Very well then, Ellida—let me just say one single thing before I go.

Ellida.

[Tries to escape, but cannot. She stands as if paralysed with fear, and supports herself against a tree-trunk near the pond.] Do not touch me! Do not come near me! Stay where you are! Do not touch me, I say!

The Stranger.

[Cautiously, coming a step or two towards her.] You must not be so afraid of me, Ellida.

Ellida.

[Puts her hands before her eyes.] Do not look at me like that!

The Stranger.

Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.

Doctor Wangelcomes through the garden from the left.

Wangel.

[Before he has quite emerged from among the trees.] Well, I’ve kept you waiting a nice time.

Ellida.

[Rushes to him, clings fast to his arm and cries.] Oh Wangel,—save me! Save me—if you can!

Wangel.

Ellida,—what in heaven’s name——!

Ellida.

Save me, Wangel! Don’t you see him? There he stands!

Wangel.

[Looks at theStranger.] That man there? [Goes towards him.] Who areyou, may I ask? And why have you come into this garden?

The Stranger.

[IndicatesEllidaby a nod.] I want to speak toher.

Wangel.

Indeed. Then I suppose it was you——? [ToEllida.] I hear a stranger called at the house and asked for you.

The Stranger.

Yes, it was I.

Wangel.

And what do you want with my wife? [Turns.] Do you know him, Ellida?

Ellida.

[Softly, wringing her hands.] Do I know him? Yes, yes, yes!

Wangel.

[Hastily.] Well?

Ellida.

Oh, it ishe, Wangel! It is he himself! He,—you know——!

Wangel.

What? What do you say? [Turns.] Are you the man Johnston, who was——?

The Stranger.

Well—you can call me Johnston if you like. It is not my name though.

Wangel.

Is it not?

The Stranger.

Not now, it isn’t.

Wangel.

And what can you want with my wife? For of course you know that the lighthouse keeper’s daughter has been married for years. And you must know, too, who her husband is.

The Stranger.

I have known that for more than three years.

Ellida.

[Eagerly.] How did you come to know it?

The Stranger.

I was on my way home to you. I came across an old newspaper—one from these parts; and in it was the notice of your marriage.

Ellida.

[Looking straight before her.] My marriage——So it wasthat——

The Stranger.

It came upon me very strangely. For the linking of the rings—that was a marriage, too, Ellida.

Ellida.

[Puts her hands before her face.] Oh——!

Wangel.

How dare you——?

The Stranger.

Had you forgotten it?

Ellida.

[Cries out, as though she felt his look.] Do not stand looking at me like that!

Wangel.

[Confronting him.] Be so good as to address yourself to me, and not to her. Briefly now—since you understand the situation—what can you have to do here? Why do you come here and seek out my wife?

The Stranger.

I had promised Ellida that I would come to her as soon as I could.

Wangel.

Ellida——! Again!

The Stranger.

And Ellida had promised faithfully to wait for me till I came.

Wangel.

I observe that you call my wife by her first name. That sort of familiarity is not usual here.

The Stranger.

I know that very well. But as she belongs first of all tome——

Wangel.

To you! Still——!

Ellida.

[Shrinks behindWangel.] Oh——! He will never set me free!

Wangel.

To you! You say she belongs to you!

The Stranger.

Has she told you about the two rings? My ring and Ellida’s?

Wangel.

Yes, certainly. But what then? She broke it off again afterwards. You received her letters; so you know it perfectly well.

The Stranger.

Ellida and I were fully agreed that the linking of the rings was to be in every way as valid and binding as a marriage.

Ellida.

But I refuse, I tell you! Never in this world will I have anything more to do with you! Do not look at me like that! I will not, I tell you!

Wangel.

You must be out of your senses if you think you can come here and found any claim upon such a piece of child’s-play as that.

The Stranger.

That is true. In the way you mean, I have certainly no claim upon her.

Wangel.

What do you want to do then? You cannot imagine that you can take her from me by force,—against her own will!

The Stranger.

No. What would be the use of that? If Ellida is to be mine, she must come of her own free will.

Ellida.

[Starts and cries out.] Of my own free will——.

Wangel.

And can you suppose——!

Ellida.

[To herself.] My own free will——!

Wangel.

You must be out of your mind. Take yourself off! We have nothing more to do with you.

The Stranger.

[Looks at his watch.] It will soon be time for me to go on board again. [Advances a step.] Well well, Ellida—now I have done what I had to do. [Still nearer.] I have kept the word I gave you.

Ellida.

[Imploringly, shrinking away.] Oh, do not touch me!

The Stranger.

I give you till to-morrow night to think it over——

Wangel.

There is nothing to think over. Leave this place at once!

The Stranger.

[Still toEllida.] I am going up the fiord in the steamer now; to-morrow night I shall return, and then I will see you again. You must wait for me here in the garden; for I prefer to settle the matter with you alone, you understand.

Ellida.

[Softly and trembling.] Oh, do you hear that, Wangel?

Wangel.

Do not be alarmed. We shall find means to prevent this visit.

The Stranger.

Good-bye for the present, Ellida. To-morrow night then.

Ellida.

[In a tone of entreaty.] Oh, no, no,—do not come to-morrow night! Never come again!

The Stranger.

And if by that time you should be of a mind to come with me over the sea——

Ellida.

Oh, do not look at me like that——

The Stranger.

I only mean that in that case you must be ready to start.

Wangel.

Go into the house, Ellida.

Ellida.

I cannot. Oh, help me! Save me, Wangel!

The Stranger.

For you must remember this, that if you do not come with me to-morrow, it will all be over.

Ellida.

[Looks at him, trembling.] Will it all be over? For ever——?

The Stranger.

[With a nod.] Beyond recall, Ellida! I shall never return to this country; you will never seeme any more, nor hear from me either. I shall be as though dead and gone from you, for evermore.

Ellida.

[Breathes uneasily.] Oh——!

The Stranger.

So think carefully what you do. Good-bye. [He climbs over the fence, stops, and says:] Well, Ellida,—be ready to start to-morrow night; for then I will come and take you away.

[He goes slowly and calmly along the footpath and out to the right.

Ellida.

[Looks after him a while.] Of my own free will, he said! Think of that—he said that I should go with him of my own free will.

Wangel.

Be calm, be calm. He is gone now, and you shall never see him again.

Ellida.

Oh, how can you say that? He is coming again to-morrow night.

Wangel.

Let him come; I will see that he does not meet you.

Ellida.

[Shakes her head.] Oh Wangel, do not think that you can prevent him.

Wangel.

Yes I can, dearest—rely upon me.

Ellida.

[Musing, without listening to him.] When he has been here—to-morrow night——? And when he has gone away in the steamer, over the sea——?

Wangel.

Well, what then?

Ellida.

I wonder whether he will never—never come again?

Wangel.

No, dear Ellida, you may feel absolutely secure on that point. What could he do here after this? He has heard now, from your own lips, that you will have nothing to do with him. That ends the whole thing.

Ellida.

[To herself.] To-morrow then—or never.

Wangel.

And even if he should take it into his head to come again——

Ellida.

[Eagerly.] What then——?

Wangel.

Why, we know how to make him harmless.

Ellida.

Oh, do not think that.

Wangel.

We know what to do, I say! If nothing else will make him leave you in peace, then he shall answer for the murder of the captain.

Ellida.

[Vehemently.] No, no, no——! Never that! We know nothing about the murder of the captain! Absolutely nothing!

Wangel.

We know nothing! Why, he himself confessed it to you!

Ellida.

No, nothing about that! If you say anything, I will deny it. He shall not be caged! His place is out on the open sea. That is his home.

Wangel.

[Looks at her and says slowly:] Ah, Ellida—Ellida!

Ellida.

[Clings to him passionately.] Oh dear one, faithful one—save me from that man!

Wangel.

[Gently disengaging himself.] Come! Come with me!

LyngstrandandHilda,both with fishing-tackle, appear from the right beside the pond.

Lyngstrand.

[Goes rapidly towardsEllida.] Oh, what do you think, Mrs. Wangel—I have something wonderful to tell you!

Wangel.

What is it?

Lyngstrand.

Just fancy—we have seen the American!

Wangel.

The American?

Hilda.

Yes, I saw him too.

Lyngstrand.

He went round by the back of the garden, and then on board the big English steamer.

Wangel.

Where have you known that man?

Lyngstrand.

I was at sea with him once. I was quite sure he was drowned; and here he appears as large as life.

Wangel.

Do you know anything more about him?

Lyngstrand.

No; but I’m sure he has come back to be revenged on his faithless wife.

Wangel.

What do you mean?

Hilda.

Mr. Lyngstrand is going to make a statue of him.

Wangel.

I don’t understand a word——

Ellida.

You shall hear all about it by-and-by.

ArnholmandBolettaenter from the left along the footpath outside the garden fence.

Boletta.

[To those in the garden.] Come and look! The English steamer is going up the fiord.

[A large steamer glides slowly past at some distance.

Lyngstrand.

[ToHilda,near the garden fence.] I am sure he will come down upon her to-night.

Hilda.

[Nods.] Upon his faithless wife—yes.

Lyngstrand.

Fancy,—just at midnight.

Hilda.

I think it will be thrilling.

Ellida.

[Looking after the ship.] To-morrow then——

Wangel.

And after that, never again.

Ellida.

[Softly and trembling.] Oh Wangel—save me from myself.

Wangel.

[Looks anxiously at her.] Ellida! I feel it—there is something behind all this.

Ellida.

All that allures is behind it.

Wangel.

All that allures——?

Ellida.

That man is like the sea.

[She goes slowly and in deep thought through the garden out to the left.Wangelwalks uneasily by her side, observing her intently.

ACT FOURTH.

Garden-room atDr. Wangel’s.Doors right and left. In the back, between the two windows, an open glass door leading out to the verandah. A portion of the garden is seen below. A sofa and table in front on the left. To the right a piano, and farther back a large flower-stand. In the middle of the floor a round table with chairs about it. On the table, a rose-bush in bloom, and other plants in pots about the room. It is forenoon.

Bolettais seated on the sofa by the table, left, working at a piece of embroidery.Lyngstrandsits on a chair at the upper end of the table.Ballestedis seated in the garden, painting.Hildastands beside him, looking on.

Lyngstrand.

[Sits silent awhile with his arms on the table, watchingBolettaat work.] It must be very difficult to sew edging like that, Miss Wangel.

Boletta.

Oh no, it’s not so difficult, if only you are careful to count right——

Lyngstrand.

Count? Have you to count?

Boletta.

Yes, the stitches. Look here.

Lyngstrand.

Why, so you must! Fancy! It’s almost a kind of art. Can you draw too?

Boletta.

Oh yes, when I have a copy before me.

Lyngstrand.

Not unless?

Boletta.

No, not unless.

Lyngstrand.

Then it’s not really art after all.

Boletta.

No, it’s more of a—a knack.

Lyngstrand.

But I should think, now, that you could probablylearnart?

Boletta.

Even though I have no turn for it?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, in spite of that—if you could be always with a real born artist——

Boletta.

Do you think I could learn from him?

Lyngstrand.

I don’t mean “learn” in the ordinary sense. But I think it would come to you by degrees—by a sort of miracle, Miss Wangel.

Boletta.

That is a strange idea.

Lyngstrand.

[After a pause.] Have you thought much—I mean—have you thought at all deeply and seriously about marriage, Miss Wangel?

Boletta.

[Glances at him.] About——? No.

Lyngstrand.

I have.

Boletta.

Indeed; have you?

Lyngstrand.

Yes. I very often think about things of that sort; and particularly about marriage. And then I have read a good deal on the subject too. I think marriage may be counted a sort of miracle: the woman is transformed, as it were, by degrees, and comes to resemble her husband.

Boletta.

Acquires his interests, you mean?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, that’s just it!

Boletta.

Well, but what about his abilities?—his talent and skill?

Lyngstrand.

H’m—well—I wonder whether they, too, wouldn’t——

Boletta.

Then do you think that what a man has mastered by reading—or by his own thought—can be passed on in this way to his wife?

Lyngstrand.

Yes, that too; by degrees; as if by a miracle. But of course I know that this could only happen in a marriage that is faithful, and loving, and really happy.

Boletta.

Has it never occurred to you that perhaps a husband might be absorbed in the same way into his wife? Might come to resemble her, I mean.

Lyngstrand.

A husband? No, I have never thought of that.

Boletta.

But why not the one as well as the other?

Lyngstrand.

No; a man has his vocation to live for, you know. And that is what makes a man so strong and resolute, Miss Wangel. He has his life-work.

Boletta.

Every man?

Lyngstrand.

Oh no. I was thinking mainly of artists.

Boletta.

Do you think it right for an artist to marry?

Lyngstrand.

Most certainly; if he can find some one he really loves——

Boletta.

Even then it seems to me that he should rather live for his art alone.

Lyngstrand.

Of course he must; but he can quite well do that even if he marries.

Boletta.

But what about her, then?

Lyngstrand.

Her? Who——?

Boletta.

The woman he marries. What is she to live for?

Lyngstrand.

She too must live for his art. I should think that must be such happiness for a woman.

Boletta.

H’m,—I am not so sure——

Lyngstrand.

Oh yes, Miss Wangel, believe me. It is not only all the honour and glory she enjoys through him; that, I should say, is almost the least part of it. But that she can help him to create,—that she can lighten his labour by being ever at his side, and tending him, and making life thoroughly comfortable for him. It seems to me that must be such a delight for a woman.

Boletta.

Oh, you don’t realise how selfish you are!

Lyngstrand.

AmIselfish? Good heavens——! Oh, if you only knew me a little better——. [Bends forward towards her.] Miss Wangel,—when I am gone,—and I shall be soon——

Boletta.

[Looks at him sympathetically.] Oh don’t get such melancholy thoughts into your head.

Lyngstrand.

I don’t see that it is so very melancholy.

Boletta.

How do you mean?

Lyngstrand.

I shall be starting in about a month, first for home, and soon afterwards for the South.

Boletta.

Oh, I see. Yes, yes.

Lyngstrand.

Will you think of me now and then, Miss Wangel?

Boletta.

Yes, gladly.

Lyngstrand.

[Joyfully.] Oh, do you promise me that?

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