haven't indeed. If I'd known that Oswald was an
invalid, why--And now, too, that it can never come to anything serious
between us--I really can't stop out here in the country and wear myself
out nursing sick people.

OSWALD. Not even one who is so near to you?

REGINA. No, that I can't. A poor girl must make the best of her young
days, or she'll be left out in the cold before she knows where she is.
And I, too, have the joy of life in me, Mrs. Alving!

MRS. ALVING. Unfortunately, you leave. But don't throw yourself away,
Regina.

REGINA. Oh, what must be, must be. If Oswald takes after his father, I
take after my mother, I daresay.--May I ask, ma'am, if Pastor Manders
knows all this about me?

MRS. ALVING. Pastor Manders knows all about it.

REGINA. [Busied in putting on her shawl.] Well then, I'd better make
haste and get away by this steamer. The Pastor is such a nice man to
deal with; and I certainly think I've as much right to a little of that
money as he has--that brute of a carpenter.

MRS. ALVING. You are heartily welcome to it, Regina.

REGINA. [Looks hard at her.] I think you might have brought me up as a
gentleman's daughter, ma'am; it would have suited me better. [Tosses her
head.] But pooh--what does it matter! [With a bitter side glance at the
corked bottle.] I may come to drink champagne with gentlefolks yet.

MRS. ALVING. And if you ever need a home, Regina, come to me.

REGINA. No, thank you, ma'am. Pastor Manders will look after me, I know.
And if the worst comes to the worst, I know of one house where I've
every right to a place.

MRS. ALVING. Where is that?

REGINA. "Chamberlain Alving's Home."

MRS. ALVING. Regina--now I see it--you are going to your ruin.

REGINA. Oh, stuff! Good-bye. [She nods and goes out through the hall.]

OSWALD. [Stands at the window and looks out.] Is she gone?

MRS. ALVING. Yes.

OSWALD. [Murmuring aside to himself.] I think it was a mistake, this.

MRS. ALVING. [Goes up behind him and lays her hands on his shoulders.]
Oswald, my dear boy--has it shaken you very much?

OSWALD. [Turns his face towards her.] All that about father, do you
mean?

MRS. ALVING. Yes, about your unhappy father. I am so afraid it may have
been too much for you.

OSWALD. Why should you fancy that? Of course it came upon me as a great
surprise; but it can make no real difference to me.

MRS. ALVING. [Draws her hands away.] No difference! That your father was
so infinitely u