GERTRUDE. Yes. Let our prayers go up for him; mine do, with all a sister's heart. [KERCHIVAL enters on veranda, without coat or vest, his sash about his waist, looking back as he comes in.] Kerchival!
KERCHIVAL. Go on! Go on! Keep the battle to yourselves. I'm out of it. [The distant cannon and reverberations rising in volume. Prolonged and distant rumble.
MADELINE. I pray for Robert Ellingham—and for the cause in which he risks his life! [KERCHIVAL looks at her, suddenly; also GERTRUDE.] Heaven forgive me if I am wrong, but I am praying for the enemies of my country. His people are my people, his enemies are my enemies. Heaven defend him and his, in this awful hour.
KERCHIVAL. Madeline! My sister!
MADELINE. Oh, Kerchival! [Turning and dropping her face on his breast.] I cannot help it—I cannot help it!
KERCHIVAL. My poor girl! Every woman's heart, the world over, belongs not to any country or any flag, but to her husband—and her lover. Pray for the man you love, sister—it would be treason not to. [Passes her before him to left. Looks across to GERTRUDE.] Am I right? [GERTRUDE drops her head. MADELINE moves up veranda and out.] Is what I have said to Madeline true?
GERTRUDE. Yes! [Looks up.] Kerchival!
KERCHIVAL. Gertrude! [Hurries across to her, clasps her in his arms.
He suddenly staggers and brings his hand to his breast.
GERTRUDE. Your wound! [Supporting him as he reels and sinks into seat.
KERCHIVAL. Wound! I have no wound! You do love me! [Seizing her hand.