for in the world. ALLMERS. [Observing her closely.] Could you see that in me? RITA. Oh, yes--little by little. And then you needed something new to fill up your life.--It seems _I_ was not enough for you any longer. ALLMERS. That is the law of change, Rita. RITA. And that was why you wanted to make a prodigy of poor little Eyolf. ALLMERS. That was not what I wanted. I wanted to make a happy human being of him.--That, and nothing more. RITA. But not out of love for him. Look into yourself! [With a certain shyness of expression.] Search out all that lies under--and behind your action. ALLMERS. [Avoiding her eyes.] There is something you shrink from saying. RITA. And you too. ALLMERS. [Looks thoughtfully at her.] If it is as you say, then we two have never really possessed our own child. RITA. No. Not in perfect love. ALLMERS. And yet we are sorrowing so bitterly for him. RITA. [With sarcasm.] Yes, isn't it curious that we should grieve like this over a little stranger boy? ALLMERS. [With an outburst.] Oh, don't call him a stranger! RITA. [Sadly shaking her head.] We never won the boy, Alfred. Not I--nor you either. ALLMERS. [Wringing his hands.] And now it is too late! Too late! RITA. And no consolation anywhere--in anything. ALLMERS. [With sudden passion.] You are the guilty one in this! RITA. [Rising.] I! ALLMERS. Yes, you! It was your fault that he became--what he was! It was your fault that he could not save himself when he fell into the water.