_Reb._ (_wringing her hands_). Oh, this killing doubt! (_Looks darkly at him._) Is there anything _I_ can do to convince you? _Rosmer_ (_as if impelled to speak against his will_). Yes, one thing--only I'm afraid you wouldn't see it in the same light. And yet I must mention it. It is like this. I want to recover faith in my mission, in my power to ennoble human souls. And, as a logical thinker, this I cannot do now, unless--well, unless you jump into the mill-race, too, like BEATA! _Reb._ (_takes up her antimacassar, with composure, and puts it on her head_). Anything to oblige you. _Rosmer_ (_springs up_). What? You really _will_! You are _sure_ you don't mind? Then, REBECCA, I will go further. I will even go--yes--as far as you go yourself! _Reb._ (_bows her head towards his breast_). You will see me off? Thanks. Now you are indeed an Ibsenite. [_Smiles almost imperceptibly._ _Rosmer_ (_cautiously_). I said as far as _you_ go. I don't commit myself further than that. Shall we go? _Reb._ First tell me this. Are _you_ going with _me_, or am _I_ going with _you_? _Rosmer_. A subtle psychological point--but we have not time to think it out here. We will discuss it as we go along. Come! [_ROSMER takes his hat and stick, REBECCA her reticule, with sandwiches. They go out hand-in-hand through the door, which they leave open. The room (as is not uncommon with rooms in Norway) is left empty. Then Madam HELSETH enters through another door._ _Madam H._ The cab, Miss--not here! (_Looks out._) Out together--at this time of night--upon my--_not_ on the garden-seat? (_Looks out of window._) My goodness! _what_ is that white thing on the bridge--the _Horse_ at last! (_Shrieks aloud._) And those two sinful creatures running home! _Enter ROSMER and REBECCA, _out of breath._ _Rosmer_ (_scarcely able to get the words out_). It's no use, REBECCA--we must put it off till another evening. We can't be expected to jump off a footbridge which already has a White Horse on it. And, if it comes to that, why should we jump at all? I know now that I really _have_ ennobled you, which was all _I_ wanted. What would be the good of recovering faith in my mission at the bottom of a mill-pond? No, REBECCA--(_lays his hand on her head_)--there is no judge over us, and therefore-- _Reb._ (_interrupting gravely_). We will bind ourselves over in our own recognisances to come up for judgment when called upon. [_Madam HELSETH holds on to a chair-back, REBECCA finishes the antimacassar calmly as Curtain falls._ * * * * * A GRAND OLD WETTERUN!