MRS. ALVING. Nothing more! Your own father!
OSWALD. [Impatiently.]Oh, "father,"--"father"! I never knew anything of
father. I remember nothing about him, except that he once made me sick.
MRS. ALVING. This is terrible to think of! Ought not a son to love his
father, whatever happens?
OSWALD. When a son has nothing to thank his father for? has never known
him? Do you really cling to that old superstition?--you who are so
enlightened in other ways?
MRS. ALVING. Can it be only a superstition--?
OSWALD. Yes; surely you can see that, mother. It's one of those notions
that are current in the world, and so--
MRS. ALVING. [Deeply moved.] Ghosts!
OSWALD. [Crossing the room.] Yes; you may call them ghosts.
MRS. ALVING. [Wildly.] Oswald--then you don't love me, either!