Mrs. Bernick.
It must be a great blessing to see everything in so beautiful a light.
Rörlund.
The gift is largely inborn; but it can in some measure be acquired. The great point is to see things in the light of a serious vocation. What do you say, Miss Bernick? Do you not find that you have, as it were, firmer ground under your feet since you have devoted your life to your school-work?
Martha.
I scarcely know what to say. Often, when I am pent up in the schoolroom, I wish I were far out upon the stormy sea.
Rörlund.
Yes, yes; that is temptation, my dear Miss Bernick. You must bar the door against such an unquiet guest. The stormy sea—of course you do not mean that literally; you mean the great billowing world, where so many go to wreck. And do you really find so much to attract you in the life you hear rushing and surging outside? Just look out into the street. Look at the people in the sweltering sunshine, toiling and moiling over their paltry affairs! Ours, surely, is the better part, sitting here in the pleasant shade, and turning our backs toward the quarter from which disturbance might arise.
Martha.
Yes, no doubt you are quite right
