s 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.

WHITE. Yes. War is full of iron