bad to worse; and you see, most of the sailors stuck by Frederick.
"I think, Margaret," she continued, after a pause, in a weak, trembling, exhausted voice, "I am glad of it—I am prouder of Frederick standing up against injustice, than if he had been simply a good officer."
"I am sure I am," said Margaret, in a firm, decided tone. "Loyalty and obedience to wisdom and justice are fine; but it is still finer to defy arbitrary power, unjustly and cruelly used—not on behalf of ourselves, but on behalf of others more helpless."
"For all that, I wish I could see Frederick once more-just once. He was my first baby, Margaret." Mrs. Hale spoke wistfully, and almost as if apologising for the yearning, craving wish, as though it were a depreciation of her remaining child. But such an idea never crossed Margaret's mind. She was thinking how her mother's desire could be fulfilled.
"It is six or seven years ago—would they still prosecute him, mother ? If he came and stood his trial, what would be the punishment? Surely, he might bring evidence of his great provocation."
It would do no good," replied Mrs. Hale. "Some of the sailors who accompanied Frederick were taken, and there was a court-martial held on them on board the Amicia; I believed all they said in their defence, poor fellows, because it just agreed with Frederick's story—but it was of no use,—" and for the first time during the conversation Mrs. Hale began to cry; yet something possessed Margaret to force the information she foresaw, yet dreaded, from her mother.
