Fieldbo.
Yes, to me—precisely. Oh, you needn't laugh; I take no credit to myself; but my lot has been one that begets equilibrium and firmness of character. I was brought up amid the peace and harmony of a modest middle-class home. My mother is a woman of the finest type; in our home we had no desires that outstripped our opportunities, no cravings that were wrecked on the rocks of circumstance; and death did not break in upon our circle, leaving emptiness and longing behind it. We were brought up in the love of beauty, but it informed our whole view of life, instead of being a side-interest, a thing apart. We were taught to shun excesses, whether of the intellect or of the feelings
The Chamberlain.
Bless me! So that accounts for your being the pink of perfection?
Fieldbo.
I am far from thinking so. I only say that fate had been infinitely kind to me, and that I regard its favours in the light of obligations.
The Chamberlain.
Very well; but if Stensgård is under no such obligations, it is all the more to his credit that he
Fieldbo.
What? What is to his credit?
The Chamberlain.
You have misjudged him, my good Doctor. Look here. What do you say to this?
