Rebecca.
[Looks at him in fear.] What more should there be?
Kroll.
Did you not at last give Beata to understand that it was necessary—not only that it would be wisest, but that it was necessary—both for your own sake and Rosmer's, that you should go away somewhere—as soon as possible?—Well?
Rebecca.
[Low and indistinctly.] Perhaps I did say something of the sort.
Rosmer.
[Sinks into the arm-chair by the window. And this tissue of lies and deceit she—my unhappy, sick wife believed in! Believed in it so firmly! So immovably! [Looks up at Rebecca.] And she never turned to me. Never said one word to me! Oh, Rebecca,—I can see it in your face—you dissuaded her from it!
Rebecca.
She had conceived a fixed idea that she, as a childless wife, had no right to be here. And then she imagined that it was her duty to you to efface herself.
Rosmer.
And you—you did nothing to disabuse her of the idea?
Rebecca. No.
Kroll.
Perhaps you confirmed her in it? Answer me! Did you not?
