OSWALD. No other explanation was possible, he said. That's the
awful part of it. Incurably ruined for life--by my own heedlessness!
All that I meant to have done in the world--I never dare think of
it again--I'm not able to think of it. Oh! if I could only live over
again, and undo all I have done! [He buries his face in the sofa.]

MRS. ALVING. [Wrings her hands and walks, in silent struggle,
backwards and forwards.]

OSWALD. [After a while, looks up and remains resting upon his
elbow.] If it had only been something inherited--something one
wasn't responsible for! But this! To have thrown away so
shamefully, thoughtlessly, recklessly, one's own happiness,
one's own health, everything in the world--one's future,
one's very life--!

MRS. ALVING. No, no, my dear, darling boy; this is impossible!
[Bends over him.] Things are not so desperate as you think.

OSWALD. Oh, you don't know--[Springs up.] And then, mother, to
cause you all this sorrow! Many a time I have almost wished and
hoped that at bottom you didn't care so very much about me.

MRS. ALVING. I, Oswald? My only boy! You are all I have in the
world! The only thing I care about!

OSWALD. [Seizes both her hands and kisses them.] Yes, yes, I see
it. When I'm at home, I see it, of course; and that's almost the
hardest part for me.--But now you know the whole story and now we