my dear Ellida. I asked you honestly if you would share with me and the children the little I could call my own.
Ellida.
Yes, you did. But, little or much, I ought not to have accepted! I should never have accepted at any price! I should never have sold myself! Better the meanest labour—better the deepest poverty—of my own free will—by my own choice!
Wangel.
[Rising.] Then have the five or six years we have lived together been utterly wasted for you?
Ellida.
Oh, you must not think that, Wangel! I have had all from you that any one could possibly desire. But I did not come into your home of my own free will,—that is the thing.
Wangel.
[Looks at her.] Not of your free will?
Ellida.
No; it was not of my own free will that I cast in my lot with yours.
Wangel.
[Softly.] Ah, I remember—the phrase he used yesterday.
Ellida.
The whole secret lies in that phrase. It has thrown a new light on things for me; so that I see it all now.
Wangel.
What do you see?
