could hold. For now you shall hear, Wangel.

(The young townsfolk come back, bow, and pass out to the right. Together
with them come ARNHOLM, BOLETTE, HILDE, and LYNGSTRAND.)

Bolette (as she passes by). Well, are you still walking about up here?

Ellida. Yes, it is so cool and pleasant up here on the heights.

Arnholm. We, for our part, are going down for a dance.

Wangel. All right. We'll soon come down--we also.

Hilde. Goodbye, for the present!

Ellida. Mr. Lyngstrand, will you wait one moment? (LYNGSTRAND Stops.
ARNHOLM, BOLETTE and HILDE go out. To LYNGSTRAND.) Are you going to
dance too?

Lyngstrand. No, Mrs. Wangel. I don't think I dare.

Ellida. No, you should be careful, you know--your chest. You're not
quite well yet, you see.

Lyngstrand. Not quite.

Ellida (with some hesitation). How long may it be now since you went on
that voyage?

Lyngstrand. That time when I contracted this weakness?

Ellida. Yes, that voyage you told me about this morning?

Lyngstrand. Oh! it's about--wait a moment--yes, it's a good three years
now.

Ellida. Three years, then.

Lyngstrand. Perhaps a little more. We left America in February, and we
were wrecked in March. It was the equinoctial gales we came in for.

Ellida (looking at WANGEL). So it was at that time--

Wangel. But, dear Ellida--

Ellida. Well, don't let me detain you, Mr. Lyngstrand. Now go down, but
don't dance.

Lyngstrand. No, I'll only look on. (He goes out.)

Ellida. Johnston was on board too, I am quite certain of it.

Wangel. What makes you think so?

Ellida (without answering). He learnt on board that I had married
another while he was away. And so that very hour this came over me.

Wangel. The horror?

Ellida. Yes, all of a sudden I see him alive right in front of me; or,
rather a little in profile. He never looks at me, only he is there.

Wangel. How do you think he looks?

Ellida. Exactly as when I saw him last.

Wangel. Ten years ago?

Ellida. Yes; out there at Bratthammeren. Most distinctly of all I see
his breastpin, with a large bluish-white pearl in it. The pearl is like
a dead fish's eye, and it seems to glare at me.

Wangel. Good God! You are more ill than I thought. More ill than you
yourself know, Ellida.

Ellida. Yes, yes! Help me if you can, for I feel how it is drawing
closer and more close.

Wangel. And you have gone about in this state three whole years, bearing
for yourself this secret suffering, withou