For me, at all events.

Rosmer. Yes, but are you so sure of that? If I asked you again now--?
Implored you--?

Rebecca. Oh, my dear--never go back to that again! It is impossible.
Yes, impossible--because I must tell you this, John. I have a--past
behind me.

Rosmer. Something more than you have told me?

Rebecca. Yes, something more and something different.

Rosmer (with a faint smile). It is very strange, Rebecca, but--do you
know--the idea of such a thing has occurred to me more than once.

Rebecca. It has? And yet--notwithstanding that, you--?

Rosmer. I never believed in it. I only played with the idea-nothing
more.

Rebecca. If you wish, I will tell you all about it at once.

Rosmer (stopping her). No, no! I do not want to hear a word about it.
Whatever it is, it shall be forgotten, as far as I am concerned.

Rebecca. But I cannot forget it.

Rosmer. Oh, Rebecca--!

Rebecca. Yes, dear--that is just the dreadful part of it-that now, when
all the happiness of life is freely and fully offered to me, all I can
feel is that I am barred out from it by my past.

Rosmer. Your past is dead, Rebecca. It has no longer any hold on
you--has nothing to do with you--as you are now.

Rebecca. Ah, my dear, those are mere words, you know. What about
innocence, then? Where am I to get that from?

Rosmer (gloomily). Ah, yes--innocence.

Rebecca. Yes, innocence--which is at the root of all joy and happiness.
That was the teaching, you know, that you wanted to see realised by all
the men you were going to raise up to nobility and happiness.

Rosmer. Ah, do not remind me of that. It was nothing but a half-dreamt
dream, Rebecca--a rash suggestion that I have no longer any faith in.
Human nature cannot be ennobled by outside influences, believe me.

Rebecca (gently). Not by a tranquil love, do you think?

Rosmer (thoughtfully). Yes, that would be a splendid thing--almost the
most glorious thing in life, I think if it were so. (Moves restlessly.)
But how am I ever to clear up the question?--how am I to get to the
bottom of it?

Rebecca. Do you not believe in me, John?

Rosmer. Ah, Rebecca, how can I believe you entirely--you whose life
here has been nothing but continual concealment and secrecy!--And now
you have this new tale to tell. If it is cloaking some design of yours,
tell me so--openly. Perhaps there is something or other that you hope
to gain by that means? I will gladly do anything that I can for you.