Wangel. This dread?
Ellida.
Yes. Sometimes, without the smallest warning, I suddenly see him stand bodily before me. Or rather a little to one side. He never looks at me; he is only there.
Wangel. How does he appear to you?
Ellida. Just as I saw him last.
Wangel. Ten years ago?
Ellida.
Yes. Out at Bratthammer. I see his scarf-pin most distinctly of all, with a large, bluish-white pearl in it. That pearl is like a dead fish's eye. And it seems to glare at me.
Wangel.
Good God! You are more ill than I thought; more ill than you know yourself, Ellida.
Ellida.
Yes, yes,—help me if you can! For I feel it closing round me more and more.
Wangel.
And you have been in this state for three whole years. You have suffered this secret anguish without confiding in me!
Ellida. Oh I could not! Not till now, when it became
