, Bolette? Not any kind of connection?

Bolette. Nothing whatever. As far as that goes, I could leave at any
moment.

Arnholm. Well, if that is so, dear Bolette, you shall go away with me!

Bolette (clapping her hands). Oh God! What joy to think of it!

Arnholm. For I hope you trust me fully?

Bolette. Indeed, I do!

Arnholm. And you dare to trust yourself and your future fully and
confidently into my hands, Bolette? Is that true? You will dare to do
this?

Bolette. Of course; how could I not do so? Could you believe anything
else? You, who have been my old teacher--my teacher in the old days, I
mean.

Arnholm. Not because of that. I will not consider that side of the
matter; but--well, so you are free, Bolette! There is nothing that binds
you, and so I ask you, if you could--if you could--bind yourself to me
for life?

Bolette (steps back frightened). What are you saying?

Arnholm. For all your life, Bolette. Will you be my wife?

Bolette (half to herself). No, no, no! That is impossible, utterly
impossible!

Arnholm. It is really so absolutely impossible for you to--

Bolette. But, surely, you cannot mean what you are saying, Mr. Arnholm!
(Looking at him.) Or--yet--was that what you meant when you offered to
do so much for me?

Arnholm. You must listen to me one moment, Bolette. I suppose I have
greatly surprised you!

Bolette. Oh! how could such a thing from you--how could it but--but
surprise me!

Arnholm. Perhaps you are right. Of course, you didn't--you could not
know it was for your sake I made this journey.

Bolette. Did you come here for--for my sake?

Arnholm. I did, Bolette. In the spring I received a letter from your
father, and in it there was a passage that made me think--hm--that you
held your former teacher in--in a little more than friendly remembrance.

Bolette. How could father write such a thing?

Arnholm. He did not mean it so. But I worked myself into the belief
that here was a young girl longing for me to come again--No, you mustn't
interrupt me, dear Bolette! And--you see, when a man like myself, who
is no longer quite young, has such a belief--or fancy, it makes an
overwhelming impression. There grew within me a living, a grateful
affection for you; I thought I must come to you, see you again, and tell
you I shared the feelings that I fancied you had for me.

Bolette. And now you know it is not so!--that it was a mistake!

Arnholm. It can't be helped, Bolette. Your i