It is her sledge!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Perhaps it's another.

MRS. BORKMAN.
No, no, it is Mrs. Wilton's covered sledge! I know the silver
bells! Hark! Now they are driving right past here, at the foot
of the hill!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Quickly.] Gunhild, if you want to cry out to him, now is the
time! Perhaps after all----! [The tinkle of the bells sounds
close at hand, in the wood.] Make haste, Gunhild! Now they are
right under us!

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Stands for a moment undecided, then she stiffens and says
sternly and coldly.] No. I will not cry out to him. Let Erhart
Borkman pass away from me--far, far away--to what he calls life
and happiness.
[The sound dies away in the distance.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[After a moment.] Now the bells are out of hearing.

MRS. BORKMAN.
They sounded like funeral bells.

BORKMAN.
[With a dry suppressed laugh.] Oho--it is not for me they are
ringing to-night!

MRS. BORKMAN.
No, but for me--and for him who has gone from me.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding thoughtfully.] Who knows if, after all, they may not
be ringing in life and happiness for him, Gunhild.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[With sudden animation, looking hard at her.] Life and
happiness, you say!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
For a little while at any rate.

MRS. BORKMAN.
Could you endure to let him know life and happiness, with her?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With warmth and feeling.] Indeed, I could, with all my heart
and soul!

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Coldly.] Then you must be richer than I am in the power of
love.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking far away.] Perhaps it is the lack of love that keeps
the power alive.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Fixing her eyes on her.] If that is so, then I shall soon be
as rich as you, Ella.
[She turns and goes into the house.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Stands for a time looking with a troubled expression at BORKMAN;
then lays her hand cautiously on his shoulder.] Come, John--you
must come in, too.

BORKMAN.
[As if wakening.] I?

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, this winter air is too keen for you; I can see that, John.
So come--come in with me--into the house, into the warmth.

BORKMAN.
[Angrily.] Up to the gallery again, I suppose.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, rather into the room below.

BORKMAN.
[His anger flaming forth.] Never will I set foot under that
roof again!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
Where will you go then? So late, and in the dark, John?

BORKMAN.
[Putting on his hat.] Fi