to my real age, and I _do_ prefer to be legitimate. And, after your
information--of which I was quite ignorant, as my mother, the late
Mrs. GAMVIK, never _once_ alluded to it--I feel I must confess
everything. Strong-minded advanced women are like that. Here is
ROSMER. (ROSMER _enters with his hat and stick._) ROSMER, I want to
tell you and Rector KROLL a little story. Let us sit down, dear,
all three of us. (_They sit down, mechanically, on chairs._) A long
time ago, before the play began--(_in a voice scarcely audible_)--in
Ibsenite dramas, all the interesting things somehow _do_ happen before
the play begins--

_Rosmer_. But, REBECCA, I _know_ all this. KROLL--(_looks hard at
her_). Perhaps I had better go?

_Reb._ No--I will be short--this was it. I wanted to take my share
in the life of the New Era, and march onward with ROSMER. There
was one dismal, insurmountable barrier--(_to ROSMER, who nods
gravely_)--BEATA! I understood where your deliverance lay--and I
acted. _I_ drove BEATA into the mill-race ... There!

_Rosmer_ (_after a short silence_). H'm! Well, KROLL--(_takes up his
hat_)--if you're thinking of walking home, I'll go too. I'm going to
be orthodox once more--after _this_!

_Kroll_ (_severely and impressively, to_ REB.). A nice sort of young
woman _you_ are! [_Both go out hastily, without looking at REB._

_Reb._ (_speaks to herself, under her breath_). Now I _have_ done it.
I wonder _why_. (_Pulls bell-rope._) Madam HELSETH, I have just had a
glimpse of two rushing White Horses. Bring down my hair-trunk.