[Then, seeing that KATHERINE is quivering with emotion, he strokes her hand.]

SIR JOHN. My dear! Death is in many houses!

KATHERINE. I must go to Helen. Tell Stephen, Father. I can't.

SIR JOHN. If you wish, child.

[She goes out, leaving SIR JOHN to his grave, puzzled grief, and in a few seconds MORE comes in.]

MORE. Yes, Sir John. You wanted me?

SIR JOHN. Hubert is killed.

MORE. Hubert!

SIR JOHN. By these--whom you uphold. Katherine asked me to let you know. She's gone to Helen. I understand you only came back last night from your----No word I can use would give what I feel about that. I don't know how things stand now between you and Katherine; but I tell you this, Stephen: you've tried her these last two months beyond what any woman ought to bear!

[MORE makes a gesture of pain.]

SIR JOHN. When you chose your course----

MORE. Chose!

SIR JOHN. You placed yourself in opposition to every feeling in her.

You knew this might come. It may come again with another of my sons.

MORE. I would willingly change places with any one of them.

SIR JOHN. Yes--I can believe in your unhappiness. I cannot conceive of greater misery than to be arrayed against your country. If I could have Hubert back, I would not have him at such a price--no, nor all my sons. 'Pro patri mori'--My boy, at all events, is happy!

MORE. Yes!

SIR JOHN. Yet you can go on doing what you are! What devil of pride has got into you, Stephen?

MORE. Do you imagine I think myself better than the humblest private fighting out there? Not for a minute.

SIR JOHN. I don't understand you. I always thought you devoted to Katherine.

MORE. Sir John, you believe that country comes before wife and child?

SIR JOHN. I do.

MORE. So do I.

SIR JOHN. [Bewildered] Whatever my country does or leaves undone, I no more presume to judge her than I presume to judge my G.o.d. [With all the exaltation of the suffering he has undergone for her] My country!

MORE. I would give all I have--for that creed.

SIR JOHN. [Puzzled] Stephen, I've never looked on you as a crank; I always believed you sane and honest. But this is--visionary mania.

MORE. Vision of what might be.

SIR JOHN. Why can't you be content with what the grandest nation-- the grandest men on earth--have found good enough for them? I've known them, I've seen what they could suffer, for our country.

MORE. Sir John, imagine what the last two months have been to me!

To see people turn away in the street--old friends pa.s.s me as if I were a wall! To dread the post! To go to bed every night with the sound of hooting in my ears! To know that my name is never referred to without contempt----

SIR JOHN. You have your new friends. Plenty of them, I understand.

MORE. Does that make up for being spat at as I was last night? Your battles are fool's play to it.

The stir and rustle of the crowd in the street grows louder.

SIR JOHN turns his head towards it.

SIR JOHN. You've heard there's been a victory. Do you carry your unnatural feeling so far as to be sorry for that? [MORE shakes his head] That's something! For G.o.d's sake, Stephen, stop before it's gone past mending. Don't ruin your life with Katherine. Hubert was her favourite brother; you are backing those who killed him. Think what that means to her! Drop this--mad Quixotism--idealism--whatever you call it. Take Katherine away. Leave the country till the thing's over--this country of yours that you're opposing, and--and-- traducing. Take her away! Come! What good are you doing? What earthly good? Come, my boy! Before you're utterly undone.

MORE. Sir John! Our men are dying out there for, the faith that's in them! I believe my faith the higher, the better for mankind--Am I to slink away? Since I began this campaign I've found hundreds who've thanked me for taking this stand. They look on me now as their leader. Am I to desert them? When you led your forlorn hope-- did you ask yourself what good you were doing, or, whether you'd come through alive? It's my forlorn hope not to betray those who are following me; and not to help let die a fire--a fire that's sacred-- not only now in this country, but in all countries, for all time.

SIR JOHN. [After a long stare] I give you credit for believing what you say. But let me tell you whatever that fire you talk of--I'm too old-fashioned to grasp--one fire you are letting die--your wife's love. By G.o.d! This crew of your new friends, this crew of cranks and jays, if they can make up to you for the loss of her love--of your career, of all those who used to like and respect you--so much the better for you. But if you find yourself bankrupt of affection-- alone as the last man on earth; if this business ends in your utter ruin and destruction--as it must--I shall not pity--I cannot pity you. Good-night!

He marches to the door, opens it, and goes out. MORE is left standing perfectly still. The stir and murmur of the street is growing all the time, and slowly forces itself on his consciousness. He goes to the bay window and looks out; then rings the bell. It is not answered, and, after turning up the lights, he rings again. KATHERINE comes in. She is wearing a black hat, and black outdoor coat. She speaks coldly without looking up.

KATHERINE. You rang!

MORE. For them to shut this room up.

KATHERINE. The servants have gone out. They're afraid of the house being set on fire.

MORE. I see.

KATHERINE. They have not your ideals to sustain them. [MORE winces]

I am going with Helen and Olive to Father's.

MORE. [Trying to take in the exact sense of her words] Good! You prefer that to an hotel? [KATHERINE nods. Gently] Will you let me say, Kit, how terribly I feel for you--Hubert's----

KATHERINE. Don't. I ought to have made what I meant plainer. I am not coming back.

MORE. Not? Not while the house----

KATHERINE. Not--at all.

MORE. Kit!

KATHERINE. I warned you from the first. You've gone too far!

MORE. [Terribly moved] Do you understand what this means? After ten years--and all--our love!

KATHERINE. Was it love? How could you ever have loved one so unheroic as myself!