_Reb._ (_struggling with herself, and still crocheting._) Oh--I can't
exactly say--such an odd question to ask me!

_Rosmer_ (_shakes his head_). Perhaps; I have no sense of humour--no
respectable Norwegian _has_--and I _do_ want to know--because, you
see, if I _was_ in love with you, it was a _sin_, and if I once
convinced myself of that--

[_Wanders across the room._

_Reb._ (_breaking out_). Oh, these old ancestral prejudices! Here is
your hat, and your stick, too; go and take a walk.

[ROSMER takes hat and stick, first, then goes out and takes
a walk; presently Madam HELSETH appears, and tells REBECCA
something. REBECCA tells _her_ something. They whisper
together. Madam H. nods, and shows in Rector KROLL, who
keeps his hat in his hand, and sits on a chair._

_Kroll_. I merely called for the purpose of informing you that I
consider you an artful and designing person, but that, on the whole,
considering your birth and moral antecedents, you know--(_nods at
her_)--it is not surprising. (_REBECCA walks about, wringing her
hands_) Why, what _is_ the matter? Did you really not know that you
had no right to your father's name? I'd no _idea_ you would mind my
mentioning such a trifle!

_Reb._ (_breaking out_). I _do_ mind. I am an emancipated enigma,
but I retain a few little prejudices still. I _don't_ like owning