Were I not my mother’s daughter, I would say you were right. But you are like that mother; one by one have you cast out your daughters to the wolves. The eldest went first. Five years ago Merete[16] went forth from Östråt; now she dwells in Bergen, and is Vinzents Lunge’s[17] wife. But think you she is happy as the Danish noble’s lady? Vinzents Lunge is mighty, well-nigh as a king; Merete has damsels and squires, silken robes and lofty halls; but the day has no sunshine for her, and the night no rest; for she has never loved him. He came hither and he wooed her, for she was the greatest heiress in Norway, and ’twas then needful for him to gain a footing in the land. I know it; I know it well! Merete bowed to your will; she went with the stranger lord.—But what has it cost her? More tears than a mother should wish to answer for at the day of reckoning! LADY INGER. I know my reckoning, and I fear it not. ELINA. Your reckoning ends not here. Where is Lucia, your second child? LADY INGER. Ask God, who took her. ELINA. ’Tis you I ask; ’tis you must answer for her young life. She was glad as a bird in spring when she sailed from Östråt to be Merete’s guest. A year passed, and she stood in this room once more; but her cheeks were white, and death had gnawed deep into her breast. Ah, I startle you, my mother! You thought the ugly secret was buried with her;—but she told me all. A courtly knight had won her heart. He would have wedded her. You knew that her honour was at stake; yet your will never bent—and your child had to die. You see, I know all! LADY INGER. All? Then she told you his name? ELINA. His name? No; his name she did not tell me. She shrank from his name as though it stung her;—she never uttered it. LADY INGER. [_Relieved, to herself._] Ah, then you do _not_ know all—— Elina—’tis true that the whole of this matter was well known to me. But there is one thing it seems you have overlooked. The lord whom Lucia met in Bergen was a Dane—— ELINA. That, too, I know. LADY INGER. And his love was a lie. With guile and soft speeches he had ensnared her. ELINA. I know it; but nevertheless she loved him; and had you had a mother’s heart, your daughter’s honour had been more to you than all. LADY INGER.