The next day Mr. Bell came to spend time again with his old friend. Mr. Hale was bearing up better than likely, and visits with his old friend were welcome indeed.
While the older gentlemen shut themselves up in the study, the young people sat in the drawing room discussing Frederick's imminent departure. Even though John had done his best to ensure his brother in law's safety while in England, he and Margaret had agreed that it was still unwise for Fred to stay much longer. The couple worked together to convince the fugitive that he should return to Spain.
Fred acquiesced but he hated having to leave. "I declare," said he, "I've a good mind to face it out, and stand my trial. If I could only pick up my evidence!" Looking lovingly at his sister, he added, "I have quite enjoyed this stolen visit, dearest. It has had all the charm which the French-woman attributed to forbidden pleasures."
"One of the earliest things I can remember," said Margaret, already trying to hold back her laughter, "was your being in some great disgrace, Fred, for stealing apples. We had plenty of our own-trees loaded with them," she explained for John's sake, "but some one had told you that stolen fruit tasted sweetest, which you took au pied de la lettre, and off you went a-robbing. I see you have not changed your feelings much since then."
The three of them laughed heartily at this recollection.
"I'll never forget the look on mother's face," waxed Fred, "when she found out what I had been up to. I don't think she ever forgave old man Purkis for quote, 'filling her son's head with such nonsense.' And she felt no remorse when I confessed it was his trees I stole from."
The three then fell quiet for a little while upon the recollection of the recently deceased. All were , of course, still wearing their mourning clothes and the house was draped in black.
"Truly Fred," implored Margaret, breaking the silence, "for Dolores' sake, you should try and clear yourself of the exaggerated charges brought against you, even if the charge of mutiny itself be true. If there were to be a court-martial, and you had your evidence, you might, at any rate, show how your disobedience to authority was because that authority was unworthily exercised."
"In the first place, Margaret," replied her brother, "who is to hunt up my witnesses? All of them are sailors, drafted off to other ships, except those whose evidence would go for very little, as they took part, or sympathised in the affair. In the next place, allow me to tell you, you don't know what a court-martial is, and consider it as an assembly where justice is administered, instead of what it really is-a court where authority weighs nine-tenths in the balance, and evidence forms only the other tenth. In such cases, evidence itself can hardly escape being influenced by the prestige of authority."
John listened attentively to this interaction but held his tongue.
"But is it not worth trying," she beseeched, "to see how much evidence might be discovered and arrayed on your behalf? At present, all those who knew you formerly, believe you guilty without any shadow of excuse. You have never tried to justify yourself, and we have never known where to seek for proofs of your justification. Now, for Miss Barbour's sake, make your conduct as clear as you can in the eye of the world. She may not care for it; she has, I am sure, that trust in you that we all have; but you ought not to let her ally herself to one under such a serious charge, without showing the world exactly how it is you stand. You disobeyed authority-that was bad; but to have stood by, without word or act, while the authority was brutally used, would have been infinitely worse. People know what you did; but not the motives that elevate it out of a crime into an heroic protection of the weak. For Dolores' sake, they ought to know."
'Margaret's compassion knows no bounds,' thought John, 'and her love and loyalty to her brother are commendable.'
"But how must I make them know?" replied Fred, "I am not sufficiently sure of the purity and justice of those who would be my judges, to give myself up to a court-martial, even if I could bring a whole array of truth-speaking witnesses. I can't send a bellman about, to cry aloud and proclaim in the streets what you are pleased to call my heroism. No one would read a pamphlet of self-justification so long after the deed, even if I put one out."
"Will you consult a man of the law as to your chances of exculpation?" asked Margaret, looking up at her husband, and catching his understanding eye.
"I must first catch my lawyer, and have a look at him, and see how I like him, before I make him into my confidant. Many a briefless barrister might twist his conscience into thinking, that he could earn a hundred pounds very easily by doing a good action-in giving me, a criminal, up to justice."
"Nonsense, Frederick!-because I know a magistrate on whose honour we can rely; of whose cleverness in his profession people speak very highly; and who would take a good deal of trouble for any of my relations." Her smile grew as she said this and she raised her hand to indicate her husband.
"John!" enjoined Frederick, "I forgot, you are a magistrate."
John finally spoke up, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, "I am more than willing to help but I will need more information."
John listened to Frederick's narration. He knew enough of the case to shake his head over it, in the first instance, and remindFred that he had done a very daring thing in returning to England, with such an accusation, backed by such powerful influence, hanging over him. But when they had come to talk it over, John had acknowledged that there might be some chance of his acquittal, if he could but prove his statements by credible witnesses-that in such case it might be worth while to stand his trial, otherwise it would be a great risk.
Frederick promised John to send him all of the evidence he had collected including names of those witnesses who might be willing to testify on his behalf. John had some connections in the navy through his Liverpool contacts and would see what could be done on that front. Otherwise he would use his position as magistrate to research all of the legal options that were available. He would examine all possibilities and he would take every pains.
….oOo….
Mr. Hale and Mr. Bell joined them for dinner that evening. Frederick's departure was the main topic of discussion. It was decided that he would leave for Liverpool on the latest train the following evening so that his travel would occur under the cover of darkness. From there he would take the packet to Spain.
The next day the family spent together, reminiscing about the past and discussing all the possibilities for the future. The relative happiness of his children buoyed Mr. Hale and lessened his grief.
Towards evening he said, "Would you go with Frederick to the station, John? I shall want to know he is safely off. You will bring me word that he is clear of Milton, at any rate?"
"Certainly," replied his son in law. "I shall like to see my new brother off," he smiled and nodded to Frederick. Bringing his attention back to his father in law, he said, "Margaret can stay with you, so you won't be lonely." Turning to his wife he added, "Dearest, I will pick you up when I come back from seeing your brother safely on the train and we will return to the mill together."
"Thank you, John," he said, "I should always be fancying some one had known him, and that he had been stopped, unless you could tell me you had seen him off."
"Certainly Richard," he replied, "We shall go to the Outwood station. It is quite as near, and not so many people about. We will take my carriage. There is less risk of his being seen." Turning to his brother in law he inquired, "What time is your train, Fred?"
"Ten minutes past six; very nearly dark," was the reply.
"That is ideal," replied John, "It will be easier to keep you from being seen. And I can see to the arrival of a shipment the mill is expecting while I am there. I won't be long." This last he said to those remaining behind.
All too soon the time for goodbyes had arrived.
Margaret was thankful when the parting was over-the parting from their father in his study. She hurried Frederick into the drawing room, in order to shorten a scene which she saw was so bitterly painful to her father.
Margaret's hand lay in Frederick's arm. He took hold of it affectionately.
She spoke first, "There have been such strange unexpected changes in my life during these last two years. I am so thankful you were here with us." She paused; they were standing still for a moment. Frederick held her hand in his, and looked wistfully into her face, reading there the grief of their mutual loss and her sadness at his departure but there was an overlying sense of hopefulness for all of their futures.
"We shall write often to one another," she asserted, "and I will promise-for I see it will set your mind at ease-to tell you every worry I have. Papa is"-she started a little, a hardly visible start—but Frederick felt the sudden motion of the hand he held, and turned his full face to the doorway which John had just passed intent upon retrieving his coat and hat for the journey. She was surprised by his sudden appearance in the hall as it was an indication that it was time for the two men to leave. She thought she had more time for their goodbye.
Resuming her thought to her brother she said quickly, "Papa is fairing remarkably well in my opinion. But I will let you know if his spirits take any turn for the worse."
"John is extremely good for you, and for papa" said Frederick, almost before he was out of hearing. Margaret was a little flushed, as she replied, "Yes, he means the world to me, and papa loves him like a second son."
"You know, when I first met him, I thought 'What a scowl he has!' but then I saw his softened expression with you. It is the same look I have for Dolores. He must be as madly in love with you as I am with her."
"Margaret!" Fred then avowed, "I am going to confer with John as to the chance of exculpating myself, so that I may return to England whenever I choose and bring Dolores as well."
John cleared his throat behind him.
"I fancy it must be time to go," Fred said, embracing his sister one last time.
"Take care, Fred," she implored, "Be careful. Write as soon as you can to let us know you are safe."
"God bless you, Margaret," he hugged his sister again, kissed her cheek, and turned to go.