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.
Rosmer. And what in the world did my poor wife find to write to
you about?
Mortensgaard. I have the letter at home. It begins more or less
to the effect that she is living in perpetual terror and dread,
because of the fact that there are so many evilly disposed people
about her whose only desire is to do you harm and mischief.
Rosmer. Me?
Mortensgaard. Yes, so she says. And then follows the most
remarkable part of it all. Shall I tell you, Mr. Rosmer?
Rosmer. Of course! Tell me everything, without any reserve.
Mortensgaard. The poor lady begs and entreats me to be
magnanimous. She says that she knows it was you, who got me
dismissed from my post as schoolmaster, and implores me most
earnestly not to revenge myself upon you.
Rosmer. What way did she think you could revenge yourself, then?
Mortensgaard. The letter goes on to say that if I should hear
that anything sinful was going on at Rosmersholm, I was not to
believe a word of it; that it would be only the work of wicked
folk who were spreading the rumours on purpose to do you harm.
Rosmer. Does the letter say that?
Mortensgaard. You may read it at your convenience, Mr. Rosmer.
Rosmer. But I cannot understand--? What did she imagine there
could be any wicked rumours about?
Mortensgaard.
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