sholm. The window and the hall-door
are open. The morning sun is seen shining outside. REBECCA, dressed as
in ACT I., is standing by the window, watering and arranging the
flowers. Her work is lying on the armchair. MRS. HELSETH is going round
the room with a feather brush, dusting the furniture.)

Rebecca (after a short pause). I wonder why Mr. Rosmer is so late in
coming down to-day?

Mrs. Helseth. Oh, he is often as late as this, miss. He is sure to be
down directly.

Rebecca. Have you seen anything of him?

Mrs. Helseth. No, miss, except that as I took his coffee into his study
he went into his bedroom to finish dressing.

Rebecca. The reason I ask is that he was not very well yesterday.

Mrs. Helseth. No, he did not look well. It made me wonder whether
something had gone amiss between him and his brother-in-law.

Rebecca. What do you suppose could go amiss between them?

Mrs. Helseth. I can't say, miss. Perhaps it was that fellow
Mortensgaard set them at loggerheads.

Rebecca. It is quite possible. Do you know anything of this Peter
Mortensgaard?

Mrs. Helseth. Not I! How could you think so, miss--a man like that!

Rebecca. Because of that horrid paper he edits, you mean?

Mrs. Helseth. Not only because of that, miss. I suppose you have heard
that a certain married woman, whose husband had deserted her, had a
child by him?

Rebecca. I have heard it; but of course that was long before I came
here.

Mrs. Helseth. Bless me, yes--he was quite a young man then. But she
might have had more sense than he had. He wanted to marry her, too, but
that could not be done; and so he had to pay heavily for it. But since
then--my word!--Mortensgaard has risen in the world. There are lots of
people who run after him now.

Rebecca. I believe most of the poor people turn to him first when they
are in any trouble.

Mrs. Helseth. Oh, not only the poor people, miss--

Rebecca (glancing at her unobserved). Indeed?

Mrs. Helseth (standing at the sofa, dusting vigorously). People you
would least expect, sometimes, miss.

Rebecca (arranging the flowers). Yes, but that is only an idea of
yours, Mrs. Helseth. You cannot know that for certain.

Mrs. Helseth. You think I don't know anything about that for certain,
do you, miss? Indeed I do. Because--if I must let out the secret at
last--I carried a letter to Mortensgaard myself once.

Rebecca (turns round). No--did you!

Mrs. Helseth. Yes, that I did. And that letter