him I had preparations to make--[He smiles cunningly.] And so I had. [He takes a little box from his inner breast pocket and opens it.] Mother, do you see this?
MRS. ALVING. What is it?
OSWALD. Morphia.
MRS. ALVING. [Looks at him horror-struck.] Oswald--my boy!
OSWALD. I've scraped together twelve pilules--
MRS. ALVING. [Snatches at it.] Give me the box, Oswald.
OSWALD. Not yet, mother. [He hides the box again in his pocket.]
MRS. ALVING. I shall never survive this!
OSWALD. It must be survived. Now if I'd had Regina here, I should have told her how things stood with me--and begged her to come to the rescue at the last. She would have done it. I know she would.
MRS. ALVING. Never!
OSWALD. When the horror had come upon me, and she saw me lying there helpless, like a little new-born baby, impotent, lost, hopeless--past all saving--
MRS. ALVING. Never in all the world would Regina have done this!
OSWALD. Regina would have done it. Regina was so splendidly light-hearted. And she would soon have wearied of nursing an invalid like me.
MRS. ALVING. Then heaven be praised that Regina is not here.
OSWALD. Well then, it is you that must come to the rescue, mother.
MRS. ALVING. [Shrieks aloud.] I!
OSWALD. Who should do it if not you?
MRS. ALVING. I! your mother!
OSWALD. For that very reason.
MRS. ALVING. I, who gave you life!
OSWALD. I never asked you for life. And what sort of a life have you given me? I will not have it! You shall take it back again!
MRS. ALVING. Help! Help! [She runs out into the hall.]
OSWALD. [Going after her.] Do not leave me! Where are you going?
MRS. ALVING. [In the hall.] To fetch the doctor, Oswald! Let me pass!
OSWALD. [Also outside.] You shall not go out. And no one shall come in. [The locking of a door is heard.]
MRS. ALVING. [Comes in again.] Oswald! Oswald--my child!
OSWALD. [Follows her.] Have you a mother's heart for me--and yet can see me suffer from this unutterable dread?
MRS. ALVING. [After a moment's silence, commands herself, and says:] Here is my hand upon it.
OSWALD. Will you--?
MRS. ALVING. If it should ever be necessary. But it will never be necessary. No, no; it is impossible.
OSWALD. Well, let us hope so. And let us live together as long as we can. Thank you, mother. [He seats himself in the arm-chair which MRS. ALVING has moved to the sofa. Day is breaking. The lamp is still burning on the table.]
MRS. ALVING. [Drawing near cautiously.] Do you feel calm now?
OSWALD. Yes.
MRS. ALVING. [Bending over him.] It has been a dreadful fancy of yours, Oswald--nothing but a fancy. All this excitement has been too much for you. But now you shall have a long rest; at home with your mother, my own blessëd boy. Everything you point to you shall have, just as when you 

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