Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/175



It was no dream, Lady Inger!

[Clasping her hands.] And you know it! You,—you!—Where is he then? Where have you got him? What would you do with him? [Screams.] Do not kill him, Nils Lykke! Give him back to me! Do not kill my child!

Ah, I begin to understand

And this fear—this torturing dread! Through all these weary years it has been ever with meand then all fails at last, and I must bear this agony!—Oh Lord my God, is it right of thee? Was it for this thou gavest him to me?

Nils Lykke—tell me  thing. Where have you got him? Where is he?

With his foster-father.

Still with his foster-father. Oh, that merciless man—! For ever to deny me—. But it  not go on thus! Help me, Olaf Skaktavl!