Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/52

 Nora.

Oh, yes; Doctor Rank. But he doesn't come professionally. He is our best friend, and never lets a day pass without looking in. No, Torvald hasn't had an hour's illness since that time. And the children are so healthy and well, and so am I. [Jumps up and claps her hands.] Oh, Christina, Christina, what a wonderful thing it is to live and to be happy!—Oh, but it's really too horrid of me! Here am I talking about nothing but my own concerns. [Seats hersel; upon a footstool close to Christina, and lays her arms on her friend's lap.] Oh, don't be angry with me! Now tell me, is it really true that you didn't love your husband? What made you marry him, then?

Mrs. Linden.

My mother was still alive, you see, bedridden and helpless; and then I had my two younger brothers to think of. I didn't think it would be right for me to refuse him.

Nora.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been. I suppose he was rich then?

Mrs. Linden.

Very well off, I believe. But his business was uncertain. It fell to pieces at his death, and there was nothing left.

Nora.

And then?

Mrs. Linden.

Then I had to fight my way by keeping a shop, a little school, anything I could turn my hand to. The last three years have been one long struggle