opinions deserve consideration-really deserve it—who might be scandalised at that?

Mrs. ALVING. Well, what do you actually mean by "really deserving consideration?"

MR. MANDERS. Well, I am thinking chiefly of men in positions so independent and influential that one cannot help giving some weight to their opinions.

MRS. ALVING. There are some such here, who would very likely be shocked, in case

MR. MANDERS. There now ! you see! In the town we have many of that kind. Think only of all the adherents of my brothers in office. It would be so terribly easy for them to conclude that neither you nor I had the right trust in a Higher Guidance.

MRS. ALYING. But so far as concerns yourself, dear Mr. Manders; you know, in any case, that you, yourself

-

MR. MANDERS. Yes, I know, I know; I have the fullest conviction; that is true enough. But nevertheless we should not be able to prevent a distorted, disadvantageous construction being put upon the Insurance. And such a construction might, in its turn, act as a hindrance to the Orphanage itself.

MRS. ALVING. Well, if that were to be case, then

Mr. MANDERS. Nor can I quite lose sight of the difficult, and I may frankly say, painful position I might perhaps get into. In the chief circles of the town there is a good deal of talk going on about this Orphanage affair. The Orphanage is certainly founded to some extent as a gain to the town, too; and it is to be hoped it will, in no inconsiderable degree, result in lightening our Poor Rates. But as I have been your adviser and have managed the business connected with it, I may well dread lest I should be the first person for the jealous to fasten upon――

MRS. ALVING. Oh! you ought not to expose yourself to that. MR. MANDERS. To say nothing of the attacks that would be sure to be made upon me in certain papers and periodicals, which

MRS. ALVING. It is quite enough, dear Mr. Manders. That consideration is quite decisive.

MR. MANDERS. Then you do not wish the Orphanage insured? MRS. ALVING. No. We will let it be.

MR. MANDERS (leaning back in his chair). But if misfortune were to befall it, now-one can never tell. Would you be able to make good the damage?

MRS. ALVING. No; I tell you plainly I never would do any thing of the kind.

MR. MANDERS. Well, but I tell you what, Mrs. Alving, it is after all a considerable responsibility we are taking upon ourselves. MRS. ALVING. But does it seem to you we can do anything else?

MR. MANDERS. No, that is just the thing; we really cannot do anything else. We must not expose ourselves to an absurd prejudice; and we have no kind of right to arouse scandal in public opinion.

MRS. ALVING. You, as a clergyman, in no case should.

MR. MANDERS. And I really think, too, we may rely upon an

Institution of the kind having good fortune on its side; in fact, that it stands under Special Protection.

MRS. ALVING. Let us hope so, Mr. Manders.

MR. MANDERS. Then we will let the matter alone for the present? MRS. ALVING. Yes, certainly.

MR. MANDERS. Very well. Just as you think best. (Makes notes.) Then-no Insurance.

MRS. ALVING. It was really rather curious that you should come to speak about it to-day, of all days-—

MR. MANDERS. I have often thought of asking you about itMRS. ALVING. for we nearly had a fire down there yester

day.

MR. MANDERS.

You don't say so!

MRS. ALVING. Oh! after all there was nothing in it. A heap of shavings had caught fire in the carpenter's workshop.

MR. MANDERS. Where Engstrand works?

MRS. ALVING. Yes. They say he is often very careless with

matches.

MR. MANDERS. He has so many things in his head, that man. His mind seems so beset. Thank God, he is now preparing himself to lead a decent life, I hear.

MRS. ALVING. Indeed? who says so?

MR. MANDers. He himself assures me that he means to. And he certainly is a capital workman.

MRS. ALVING. Ah! yes; so long as he is not intox

MR. MANDERS. Yes, that painful weakness. But he often needs that for the sake of his suffering leg, he says. Last time he was in the town I was really touched by him. He came up to me and thanked me so warmly for having got him work here, so that he might be where Regina was.

MRS. ALVING. He doesn't look after her much.

MR. MANDERS. Oh! yes. He has some talk with her every day. He said so himself and told me about it. MRS. ALVING. Ah! well; it may be so.

That

MR. MANDERS. He feels so strongly that he is yearning for something that can hold him back when temptation comes. is the loveable part of Jacob Engstrand: his coming completely helpless to you, and complaining of himself and acknowledging his own weakness. Lately he was up in the town talking to melook here, Mrs. Alving, supposing it were a heartfelt need with him to have Regina home with him once more

MRS. ALVING (rising hastily) Regina !

MR. MANDERS-you should not set yourself against it. MRS. ALVING. Indeed I certainly shall set myself against it. And besides, Regina is to have a position at the Orphanage. MR. MANDERS. But, consider, he really is her fatherMRS. ALVING. Oh! I know best what sort of a father he has been to her. No! to him she shall never go with my good will.

MR. MANDERS (rising). My dear lady, don't take the matter so impetuously. It is quite grievous to see how you do misjudge poor Engstrand. It really is as though you were downright

terrified

MRS. ALVING (more quietly). It doesn't matter. I have taken

Regina into my house and there she shall stay (listens). Hush, dear Mr. Manders; don't talk any more about it (happiness lights up her face). Listen! there is Oswald on the stairs. Now we will think of no one but him.

OSWALD ALVING (in a light overcoat, hat in hand and smoking a large meerschaum, comes in through the left door; standing in the door way) Oh! I beg your pardon; I thought you were sitting in the office (comes nearer). Good morning, Sir.

MR. MANDERS (staring). Ah! it was remarkable—

MRS. ALVING. Well, now what do you say to this young man, Mr. Manders?

MR. MANDERS. I say I say why! is that really?—

OSWALD. Yes, it is really the Prodigal Son, Sir.

MR. MANDERS. But, my dear young friend

OSWALD. Well, then, the Son come home.

MRS. ALVING. Oswald is thinking of the time when you were so much opposed to his being a painter.

MR. MANDERS. To our human gaze many a step looks inadviseable that later on nevertheless--(wrings his hand). Anyhow, welcome home. Why, my dear Oswald-By-the-bye I suppose I may call you by your Christian name, still?

OSWALD. Yes; what else should you call me?

MR. MANDERS. Very good. This is what I wanted to say to you, my dear Oswald-you must not believe it of me that I unreservedly condemn an artist's profession. There are many persons who can, I admit, preserve their inner life uninjured in that profession, as in any other.

OSWALD. Let us hope so.

MRS. ALVING (beaming with delight). I know one who has preserved both his inner and his outer life uninjured. Only look at him, Mr. Manders.

OSWALD (Walking about the room). Yes, yes, Mother dear; let's say no more about it.

MR. MANDERS. No; most assuredly-it cannot be denied. And you have begun to make a name for yourself already. The newspapers have often spoken of you, and most favourably. Well, that is to say--just lately they have not said so much about it, I fancy.

OSWALD. (up among the flowers). I have not been able to paint so much just lately.

MRS. ALVING. A painter, too, needs a little rest between whiles.

MR. MANDERS. I can quite believe it. And by that means he gathers up his forces and prepares himself for some great work. OSWALD. Yes.-Mother, are we going to dine soon?

MRS. ALVING. In less than half an hour. He has plenty of appetite, thank God.

and so

MR. MANDERS. And a taste for tobacco, too.
OSWALD. I found my father's pipe in my rɔom,
MR. MANDERS. Ah! ha! then that accounts for it.
MRS. ALVING. For what?

MR. MANDERS. When Oswald came in at the door with the pipe in his mouth, it seemed as though it were his father, large as life.

OSWALD. No, really?

MRS. ALVING. Oh! how can you say so? Oswald takes after my family.

MR. MANDERS. Yes, but there is an expression about the corners of the mouth-something in the lips, which reminds me so exactly of Alving;-now he is smoking, any how.

MRS. ALVING. Not in the least. Oswald has far more something about his mouth that is like a clergyman's, I think.

MR. MANDERS. Oh, ah! Oh, ah! Some of my brethren in office have a look very like it.

MRS. ALVING. But put your pipe away, my dear lad; I will not have smoking in here.

OSWALD. (does so). Gladly. I only wanted to try it; for I once smoked it when I was a child.

MRS. ALVING. You?

OSWALD. Yes. I was quite small at the time. And I recollect, too, I came up into the room to Father one evening, and he was so happy and merry.

MRS. ALVING. Oh! you don't recollect anything of those years.

66

OSWALD. Yes. I recollect distinctly. He took me up on his knee, and let me smoke from the pipe. 'Smoke, boy" he said; "Smoke away, boy." And I smoked as much as I wanted to, until I felt I was growing quite pale, and the perspiration stood in great drops on my forehead. Then he burst out laughing so heartilyMR. MANDers. That was most extraordinary.

MRS. ALVING. My dear friend, it is only something Oswald has dreamt.

OSWALD. No, Mother, I have not dreamt it, most positively. For can't you recollect that?-then you came in and carried me out into the nursery. Then I was sick and I saw that you were crying;-did Father often play such tricks?

MR. MANDERS. In his youth he was a remarkably gay, merry

man

OSWALD. And nevertheless he got so much done in this world; so much that was good and useful; and he died so young, too.

MR. MANDErs. Yes, you have indeed an active and worthy man's name as an inheritance, my dear Oswald Alving. Well, it will act as a spur to you, let us hope.

OSWALD. It ought to be so, indeed.

father.

MR. MANDers. Your coming home for the day that is to commemorate him certainly shewed very proper feeling. OSWALD. Less than that I could not do for my MRS. ALVING. And that I am to keep him so long! that shews the most proper feeling of all in him.

MR. MANDERS. Yes; you are to stay at home through the winter, I hear.

OSWALD. My stay at home is for an indefinite period, Sir.-Oh! but it really is very charming to be at home again.

MRS. ALVING (beaming). Yes, now isn't it, dear?

MR. MANDERS. (looking sympathetically at him). You have gone out into the world early, my dear Oswald.

OSWALD. I have. At times I wonder whether it was not too early.

MRS. ALVING. Oh! not at all. A sharp boy is all the better for it; and especially when he is an only child. A child like that ought not to stay at home with Mother and Father and get spoilt. MR. MANDERS. It is a very vexed question, Mrs. Alving. A child's proper place is, and must be, in his father s home.

OSWALD. I can't help agreeing with Mr. Manders in that. MR. MANDERS. Only look at your own son ;-yes, we can speak just as freely in his presence-what has the consequence been for him? He is six or seven and twenty and has never once had the opportunity of learning to know what a real home is.

OSWALD. I beg your pardon, Sir; you are quite mistaken there.

MR. MANDERS. Indeed? I thought you had been roaming about almost exclusively among artistic people.

OSWALD. And so I have.

MR. MANDERS. And chiefly among the younger artists.
OSWALD. Oh! certainly.

MR. MANDERS. But I thought that most people of that sort could not afford to found a family and build up a home.

OSWALD. There are some among them who cannot afford to marry, Sir.

Mr. MANDERS. Yes, that's just what I'm saying.

OSWALD. But in spite of that they can have a home. And that is just what they have, one and another of them; and a very nice, orderly home, too.

MRS. ALVING. (follows with breathless interest; nods, but says nothing).

MR. MANDERS. But I am not talking of a bachelor's home. By a "home" I understand a family home, where a man lives with his wife and children.

OSWALD. Yes; or with his children and his children's mother. MR. MANDERS. (Starts; claps his hands together). But merciful— OSWALD. Well?

MR. MANDERS. Lives with his children's mother!

OSWALD. Yes. Would you prefer his turning his children's mother out of doors?

MR. MANDERS. Then it is about illicit relations you are talking! About these irregular marriages, as people call them ! OSWALD. I have never noticed anything especially irregular about the life these people lead together.

MR. MANDERS. But how is it possible that a-a young man who has been properly brought up, no matter where, or a young woman either, can accomodate themselves to living in that way?—before everybody's eyes!

OSWALD. But what are they to do? A poor young artist-a poor young girl. It costs a good deal of money to get married. What are they to do?

MR. MANDERS. What are they to do? Ah! Mr. Alving, I wil tell you what they ought to do. They should avoid one another from the very beginning; that's what they should do.

OSWALD. If you talked in that style you wouldn't make much way among young, warm-hearted people, desperately in love with each other.