Ellida. Ah! dear Arnholm, you mustn't ask me about that. I
couldn't explain it to you, and even if I could, you would never
be able to understand, in the least.

Arnholm. Hm! (In lower tone.) Have you ever confided anything
about me to your husband? Of course, I meant about the useless
step--I allowed myself to be moved to.

Ellida. No. You may be sure of that. I've not said a word to him
about--about what you speak of.

Arnholm. I am glad. I felt rather awkward at the thought that--

Ellida. There was no need. I have only told him what is true--
that I liked you very much, and that you were the truest and best
friend I had out there.

Arnholm. Thanks for that. But tell me--why did you never write to
me after I had gone away?

Ellida. I thought that perhaps it would pain you to hear from one
who--who could not respond as you desired. It seemed like re-
opening a painful subject.

Arnholm. Hm. Yes, yes, perhaps you were right.

Ellida. But why didn't you write?

Arnholm (looks at her and smiles, half reproachfully). I make the