Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/325

 *—and yet can see me suffer from this unutterable dread?

Mrs. Alving.

[After a moment's silence, commands herself, and says:] Here is my hand upon it.

Oswald.

Will you?

Mrs. Alving.

If it should ever be necessary. But it will never be necessary. No, no; it is impossible.

Oswald.

Well, let us hope so. And let us live together as long as we can. Thank you, mother.

[He seats himself in the arm-chair which Mrs. Alving has moved to the sofa. Day is breaking. The lamp is still burning on the table.

Mrs. Alving.

[Drawing near cautiously.] Do you feel calm now?

Oswald.

Yes.

Mrs. Alving.

[Bending over him.] It has been a dreadful fancy of yours, Oswald—nothing but a fancy. All this excitement has been too much for you. But now you shall have a long rest; at home with your mother, my own blessëd boy. Everything you point to you shall have, just as when you were a little child.—There now. The crisis is over. You see how easily it passed! Oh, I was sure it would.—And do you see, Oswald, what a lovely day we