WHITE. Isn't that an acknowledgment of my power?
HILDA. Yes. You're a great asset now. You're a "reformed" radical. Why, Will, he'll use you in the capitals of Europe to advertise his liberalism; just as the prohibitionist exhibits a reformed drunkard.
WHITE. And I tell you, Hilda, after the war I shall be stronger than he is, stronger than any of them.
HILDA. No man is strong unless he does what he feels is right.
No, no, Will; you've convicted yourself with your own eloquence.
You've wanted to do this for some reason. But it isn't the one
you've told me. No; no.
WHITE (angrily). You doubt my sincerity?
HILDA. No; only the way you have read yourself.
WHITE. Well, if you think I've tried to make it easy for myself you are mistaken. Is it easy to pull out of the rut and habit of years? Easy to know my friends will jeer and say I've sold out? Easy to have you misunderstand? (Goes to her.) Hilda, I'm doing this for their good. I'm doing it—just as Wallace is—because I feel it's right.
HILDA. No; you shouldn't say that. You are not doing this for the same reason Wallace is. He believes in this war. He has accepted it all simply without a question. If you had seen the look in his eyes, you would have known he was a dedicated spirit; there was no shadow, no doubt; it was pure flame. But you! You believe differently! You can't hush the mind that for twenty years has thought no war ever could henceforth be justified. You can't give yourself to this war without tricking yourself with phrases. You see power in it and profit for yourself. (He protests.) That's your own confession. You are only doing what is expedient—not what is right. Oh, Will, don't compare your motives with those of our son. I sent him forth, without a word of protest, because he wishes to die for his own ideals: you are killing your own ideals for the ideals of others! (She turns away.) Oh, Will, that's what hurts. If you were only like him, I—I could stand it.
WHITE (quietly, after a pause). I can't be angry at you—even when you say such things. You've been too much a part of my life, and work, and I love you, Hilda. You know that, don't you, dear? (He sits beside her and takes her hand.) I knew it would be difficult to make you understand. Only once have I lacked courage, and that was when I felt myself being drawn into this and they offered me the appointment. For then I saw I must tell you. You know I never have wanted to cause you pain. But when you asked me to let Wallace go, I thought you would understand my going, too.—Oh, perhaps our motives are different; he is young; war has caught his imagination; but, I, too, see a duty, a way to accomplish my ideals.
HILDA. Let's leave ideals out of this now. It's like bitter enemies praying to the same God as they kill each other.