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Erhart.
I mean I am glad you made up your mind to it at last.
Mrs. Borkman.
[On the sofa, coldly.] Are you ill, Ella?
Ella Rentheim.
[Looking hardly at her.] You know quite well that I am ill.
Mrs. Borkman.
I knew you were not strong, and hadn't been for years.
Erhart.
I told you before I left you that you ought to consult a doctor.
Ella Rentheim.
There is no one in my neighbourhood that I have any real confidence in. And, besides, I did not feel it so much at that time.
Erhart.
Are you worse, then, Aunt?
Ella Rentheim.
Yes, my dear boy; I am worse now.
Erhart.
But there's nothing dangerous?
Ella Rentheim.
Oh, that depends how you look at it.
