s has just
left us. That's all.

Mrs. Tjaelde (getting up). Signe, my child!

Signe (throwing herself into her arms). Mother!

Mrs. Tjaelde. There will be no more pretence now. Do not let us regret
it!

Signe (in tears). Mother, mother!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Things are better as they are. Do you hear, dear? Don't
cry!

Signe. I am not crying! but I feel so ashamed--oh, so ashamed!

Mrs. Tjaelde. It is I that ought to feel ashamed for never having had
the courage to put a stop to what I saw was folly.

Signe (as before). Mother!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Soon there will be no one else left to desert us; and we
shall have nothing left that any one can rob us of, either.

Valborg (comes forward evidently labouring under great emotion). Yes,
there is, mother; _I_ mean to desert you.

Signe. You, Valborg? Desert us? You?

Valborg. Our home is going to be broken up, anyway. Each of us ought to
shift for herself.

Signe. But what am I to do? I don't know how to do anything.

Mrs. Tjaelde (who has sunk back into her chair). What a bad mother I
must have been, not to be able to keep my children together now!

Valborg (impetuously). You know we cannot stay together now! You know we
cannot put up with living on the charity of our creditors; we have done
that too long!

Mrs. Tjaelde. Hush, remember your father is in the room. (A pause.) What
do you want to do, Valborg?

Valborg (after she has regained her self-control, quietly). I want to go
into Mr. Holst's office, and learn commercial work--and keep myself.

Mrs. Tjaelde. You don't know what you are undertaking.

Valborg. But I know what I am leaving.

Signe. And I shall only be a burden to you, mother, because I can't do
anything--

Valborg. You _can_! Go out and earn a living; even if it is only as a
servant, what does that matter? Don't live on our creditors--not for a
day, not for an hour!

Signe. And what is to become of mother, then?

Mrs. Tjaelde. Your mother will stay with your father.

Signe. But all alone? You, who are so ill?

Mrs. Tjaelde. No, not alone! Your father and I will be together.
(TJAELDE comes forward, kisses the hand she has stretched out to him,
and falls on his knees by her chair, burying his face in her lap. She
strokes his hair gently.) Forgive your father, children. That is the
finest thing you can do. (TJAELDE gets up again and goes back to the
other end of the room. A messenger comes in with a letter.)

Signe (turning round anxiousl