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 upon her head.] And therefore the poor sick child must go to its own home again.

Ellida. How do you mean?

Wangel. Quite literally. We will move.

Ellida. Move!

Wangel.

Yes. Out somewhere by the open sea,—to some place where you may find a real home, after your own heart.

Ellida.

Oh, my dear, you mustn't think of that! It's quite impossible. You could never live happily anywhere in the world but here.

Wangel.

That must be as it may. And besides—do you think I can live happily here—without you?

Ellida.

But here I am; and here I will remain. Am I not yours?

Wangel.

Are you mine, Ellida?

Ellida.

Oh, please say no more of that scheme. Here you have all that is life and breath to you. Your whole life-work lies here, and here only.