I don't understand--
Mrs. Alving. A helping hand?
Oswald. Yes--when there is need for it.
Mrs: Alving. Oswald, have you not your mother to give you a
helping hand?
Oswald. You? (Smiles.) No, mother, you will never give me the
kind of helping hand I mean. (Laughs grimly.) You! Ha, ha! (Looks
gravely at her.) After all, you have the best right.
(Impetuously.) Why don't you call me by my Christian name,
Regina? Why don't you say Oswald?
Regina (in a low voice). I did not think Mrs. Alving would like
it.
Mrs. Alving. It will not be long before you have the right to do
it. Sit down here now beside us, too. (REGINA sits down quietly
and hesitatingly at the other side of the table.) And now, my
poor tortured boy, I am going to take the burden off your mind--
Oswald. You, mother?
Mrs. Alving. --all that you call remorse and regret and self-
reproach.
Oswald. And you think you can do that?
Mrs. Alving. Yes, now I can, Oswald. A little while ago you were
talking about the joy of life, and what you said seemed to shed a
new light upon everything in my whole life.
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