Ghosts

a-doing of, ma’am. Mrs. Alving Then sit down meanwhile. Engstrand Thank you, ma’am; I’d as soon stand. Mrs. Alving To Manders. I suppose you are going by the steamer? Manders Yes; it starts in an hour. Mrs. Alving Then be so good as to take all the papers with you. I won’t hear another word about this affair. I have other things to think of⁠— Manders Mrs. Alving⁠— Mrs. Alving Later on I shall send you a Power of Attorney to settle everything as you please. Manders That I will very readily undertake. The original destination of the endowment must now be completely changed, alas! Mrs. Alving Of course it must. Manders I think, first of all, I shall arrange that the Solvik property shall pass to the parish. The land is by no means without value. It can always be turned to account for some purpose or other. And the interest of the money in the Bank I could, perhaps, best apply for the benefit of some undertaking of acknowledged value to the town. Mrs. Alving Do just as you please. The whole matter is now completely indifferent to me. Engstrand Give a thought to my Sailors’ Home, your Reverence. Manders Upon my word, that is not a bad suggestion. That must be considered. Engstrand Oh, devil take considering⁠—Lord forgive me! Manders With a sigh. And unfortunately I cannot tell how long I shall be able to retain control of these things⁠—whether public opinion may not compel me to retire. It entirely depends upon the result of the official inquiry into the fire⁠— Mrs. Alving What are you talking about? Manders And the result can by no means be foretold. Engstrand Comes close to him. Ay, but it can though. For here stands old Jacob Engstrand. Manders Well well, but⁠—? Engstrand More softy. And Jacob Engstrand isn’t the man to desert a noble benefactor in the hour of need, as the saying goes. Manders Yes, but my good fellow⁠—how⁠—? Engstrand Jacob Engstrand may be likened to a sort of a guardian angel, he may, your Reverence. Manders No, no; I really cannot accept that. Engstrand Oh, that’ll be the way of it, all the same. I know a man as has taken others’ sins upon himself before now, I do. Manders Jacob! Wrings his hand. Yours is a rare nature. Well, you shall be helped with your Sailors’ Home. That you may rely upon. Engstrand tries to thank him, but cannot for emotion. Manders Hangs his travelling bag over his shoulder. And now let us set out. We two will go together. Engstrand At the dining room door, softly to Regina. You come along too, my lass. You shall live as snug as the yolk in an egg. Regina Tosses her head. Merci! She goes out into the hall and fetches Manders’ overcoat. Manders Goodbye, Mrs. Alving! and may the spirit of Law and Order descend upon this house, and that quickly. Mrs. Alving Goodbye, Pastor Manders. She goes up towards the conservatory, as she sees Oswald coming in through the garden door. Engstrand While he and Regina help Manders to get his coat on. Goodbye, my child. And if any trouble should come to you, you know where Jacob Engstrand is to be found. Softly. Little Harbour Street, h’m⁠—! To Mrs. Alving and Oswald. And the refuge for wandering mariners shall be called “Chamberlain Alving’s Home,” that it shall! And if so be as I’m spared to carry on that house in my own way, I make so bold as to promise that it shall be worthy of the Chamberlain’s memory. Manders In the doorway. H’m⁠—h’m!⁠—Come along, my dear Engstrand. Goodbye! Goodbye! He and Engstrand go out through the hall. Oswald Goes towards the table. What house was he talking about? Mrs. Alving Oh, a kind of Home that he and Pastor Manders want to set up. Oswald It will burn down like the other. Mrs. Alving What makes you think so? Oswald Everything will burn. All that recalls father’s memory is doomed. Here am I, too, burning down. Regina starts and looks at him. Mrs. Alving Oswald! You oughtn’t to have remained so long down there, my poor boy. Oswald Sits down by the table. I almost think you are right. Mrs. Alving Let me dry your face, Oswald; you are quite wet. She dries his face with her pocket-handkerchief. Oswald Stares indifferently in front of him. Thanks, Mother. Mrs. Alving Are you not tired, Oswald? Should you like to sleep? Oswald Nervously. No, no⁠—not to sleep! I never sleep. I only pretend to. Sadly. That will come soon enough. Mrs. Alving Looking sorrowfully at him. Yes, you really are ill, my blessed boy. Regina Eagerly. Is Mr. Alving ill? Oswald Impatiently. Oh, do shut all the doors! This killing dread⁠— Mrs. Alving Close the doors, Regina. Regina shuts them and remains standing by the hall door. Mrs. Alving takes her shawl off: Regina does the same. Mrs. Alving draws a chair across to Oswald’s, and sits by him. Mrs. Alving There now! I am going to sit beside you⁠— Oswald Yes, do. And Regina shall stay here too. Regina shall be with me always. You will come to the rescue, Regina, won’t you? Regina I don’t understand⁠— Mrs. Alving To the rescue? Oswald Yes⁠—when the need comes. Mrs. Alving Oswald, have you not your mother to come to the rescue? Oswald You? Smiles. No, Mother; that rescue you will never bring me. Laughs sadly. You! ha ha! Looks earnestly at her. Though, after all, who ought to do it if not you? Impetuously. Why can’t you say “thou”5 to me, Regina? Why don’t you call me “Oswald”? Regina Softly. I don’t think Mrs. Alving would like it. Mrs. Alving You shall have leave to, presently. And meanwhile sit over here beside us. Regina seats herself demurely and hesitatingly at the other side of the table. Mrs. Alving And now, my poor suffering boy, I am going to take the burden off your mind⁠— Oswald You, Mother? Mrs. Alving —all the gnawing remorse and self-reproach you speak of. Oswald And you think you can do that? Mrs. Alving Yes, now I can, Oswald. A