you, miss--don't talk of such a dreadful
thing!

Rebecca. Oh, come, come!

Mrs. Helseth (lowering her voice). Do you really think, miss, that some
one here is to go soon?

Rebecca. Not a bit of it. But there are so many sorts of white horses
in this world, Mrs. Helseth--Well, good-night. I shall go to my room
now.

Mrs. Helseth. Good-night, miss. (Rebecca takes her work and goes out to
the right. MRS. HELSETH shakes her head, as she turns down the lamp,
and mutters to herself): Lord--Lord!--how queer Miss West does talk
sometimes!

ACT II

(SCENE. ROSMER'S study. The door into it is in the left-hand wall. At
the back of the room is a doorway with a curtain drawn back from it,
leading to his bedroom. On the right, a window, in front of which is a
writing-table strewn with books and papers. Bookshelves and cupboards
on the walls. Homely furniture. On the left, an old-fashioned sofa with
a table in front of it. ROSMER, wearing a smoking-jacket, is sitting at
the writing-table on a high-backed chair. He is cutting and turning
over the leaves of a magazine, and dipping into it here and there. A
knock is heard at the door on the left.)

Rosmer (without turning round). Come in.

(REBECCA comes in, wearing a morning wrapper.)

Rebecca. Good morning.

Rosmer (still turning over the leaves of his book). Good morning, dear.
Do you want anything?

Rebecca. Only to ask if you have slept well?

Rosmer. I went to sleep feeling so secure and happy. I did not even
dream. (Turns round.) And you?

Rebecca. Thanks, I got to sleep in the early morning.

Rosmer. I do not think I have felt so light-hearted for a long time as
I do to-day. I am so glad that I had the opportunity to say what I did.

Rebecca. Yes, you should not have been silent so long, John.

Rosmer. I cannot understand how I came to be such a coward.

Rebecca. I am sure it was not really from cowardice.

Rosmer. Yes, indeed. I can see that at bottom there was some cowardice
about it.

Rebecca. So much the braver of you to face it as you did. (Sits down
beside him on a chair by the writing-table.) But now I want to confess
something that I have done--something that you must not be vexed with
me about.

Rosmer. Vexed? My dear girl, how can you think--?

Rebecca. Yes, because I dare say it was a little presumptuous of me,
but--

Rosmer. Well, let me hear what it was.

Rebecca. Last night, when that Ulrick Brendel was going, I wrote him a