Rosmersholm Part 12

She told me to come up, and that I would hear the rest of it from yourself.

Rosmer. Very well, then; let me tell you that I have cut myself free entirely--on every side. I have now, no connection of any kind with the tenets of the Church. For the future such matters have not the smallest signification for me.

Mortensgaard (looking at him in perplexity). Well, if the moon had fallen down from the sky, I could not be more--! To think that I should ever hear you yourself renounce--!

Rosmer. Yes, I stand now where you have stood for a long time. You can announce that in the "Searchlight" to-morrow too.

Mortensgaard. That, too? No, my dear Mr. Rosmer--you must excuse me--but it is not worth touching on that side of the matter.

Rosmer. Not touch on it?

Mortensgaard. Not at first, I think.

Rosmer. But I do not understand--

Mortensgaard. Well, it is like this, Mr. Rosmer. You are not as familiar with all the circ.u.mstances of the case as I am, I expect. But if you, too, have joined the forces of freedom--and if you, as Miss West says you do, mean to take part in the movement--I conclude you do so with the desire to be as useful to the movement as you possibly can, in practice as well as, in theory.

Rosmer. Yes, that is my most sincere wish.

Mortensgaard. Very well. But I must impress on you, Mr. Rosmer, that if you come forward openly with this news about your defection from the Church, you will tie your own hands immediately.

Rosmer. Do you think so?

Mortensgaard. Yes, you may be certain that there is not much that you would be able to do hereabouts. And besides, Mr. Rosmer, we have quite enough freethinkers already--indeed, I was going to say we have too many of those gentry. What the party needs is a Christian element--something that every one must respect. That is what we want badly. And for that reason it is most advisable that you should hold your tongue about any matters that do not concern the public. That is my opinion.

Rosmer. I see. Then you would not risk having anything to do with me if I were to confess my apostasy openly?

Mortensgaard (shaking his head). I should not like to, Mr. Rosmer.

Lately I have made it a rule never to support anybody or anything that is opposed to the interests of the Church.

Rosmer. Have you, then, entered the fold of the Church again lately?

Mortensgaard. That is another matter altogether.

Rosmer. Oh, that is how it is. Yes, I understand you now.

Mortensgaard. Mr. Rosmer--you ought to remember that I, of all people, have not absolute freedom of action.

Rosmer. What hampers you?

Mortensgaard. What hampers me is that I am a marked man.

Rosmer. Ah--of course.

Mortensgaard. A marked man, Mr. Rosmer. And you, of all people, ought to remember that--because you were responsible, more than any one else, for my being branded.

Rosmer. If I had stood then where I stand now, I should have handled the affair more judiciously.

Mortensgaard. I think so too. But it is too late now; you have branded me, once for all--branded me for life. I do not suppose you can fully realise what such a thing means. But it is possible that you may soon feel the smart of it yourself now, Mr. Rosmer.

Rosmer. I?

Mortensgaard. Yes. You surely do not suppose that Mr. Kroll and his gang will be inclined to forgive a rupture such as yours? And the "County News" is going to be pretty bloodthirsty, I hear. It may very well come to pa.s.s that you will be a marked man, too.

Rosmer. On personal grounds, Mr. Mortensgaard, I feel myself to be invulnerable. My conduct does not offer any point of attack.

Mortensgaard (with a quiet smile). That is saying a good deal, Mr.

Rosmer.

Rosmer. Perhaps it is. But I have the right to say as much.

Mortensgaard. Even if you were inclined to overhaul your conduct as thoroughly as you once overhauled mine?

Rosmer. You say that very strangely. What are you driving at?--is it anything definite?

Mortensgaard. Yes, there is one definite thing--no more than a single one. But it might be quite awkward enough if malicious opponents got a hint of it.

Rosmer. Will you have the kindness to tell me what on earth it is?

Mortensgaard. Can you not guess, Mr. Rosmer?

Rosmer. No, not for a moment.

Mortensgaard. All right. I must come out with it, then. I have in my possession a remarkable letter, that was written here at Rosmersholm.

Rosmer. Miss West's letter, you mean? Is it so remarkable?

Mortensgaard. No, that letter is not remarkable. But I received a letter from this house on another occasion.

Rosmer. From Miss West?

Mortensgaard. No, Mr. Rosmer.

Rosmer. Well, from whom, then? From whom?

Mortensgaard. From your late wife.

Rosmer. From my wife? You had a letter from my wife?

Mortensgaard. Yes, I did.

Rosmer. When?

Mortensgaard. It was during the poor lady's last days. It must be about a year and a half ago now. And that is the letter that is so remarkable.

Rosmer. Surely you know that my wife's mind was affected at that time?

Mortensgaard. I know there were a great many people who thought so.

But, in my opinion, no one would have imagined anything of the kind from the letter. When I say the letter is a remarkable one, I mean remarkable in quite another way.