"Now Margaret, your own reasoning will condemn you. You acknowledged that you deserved to die for stealing the horse. Now consider the difference between the sentence you were actually prepared to submit to and the one for which it was in mercy changed. Though justly condemned to death, you are permitted to live and undergo a comparatively mild punishment, yet you cannot see the duty of submitting to it. You should have endured the lesser punishment without a murmur. You appeared to receive the award of it with such thankfulness that it made all your friends rejoice for you. But how deep is their present sorrow! What will the judge say to you now when you are placed before him? Religion teaches you submission to the constituted authorities of your country; and you ought to think with humility, as you once did, that, like the thief on the cross, you suffer justly for your crimes. To my mind, Margaret, you have no excuse whatever. It may be all very well for romantic ideas of fancy to make your lover the excuse; but you were not at liberty to choose to roam over the sea with him until you could do so with a free conscience." "It is not for me, dear lady, to say a word against your reasoning. I did not look upon my crime in this light." "You must learn to look upon your crime as one which has done injury to society. Which of your friends, who interceded for you with the judge, and gave you so good a character, can now intercede for you again? I am persuaded, Margaret, that the judge himself will think his former mercy much displaced, and that you will meet with severity and reproach at his hands." "Dear lady! who can give me comfort? Laud is dead, my father is dead, my brother is at a distance and will probably be so ashamed of me that he will never come to see me again. To whom, then, can I look for help? You, my dear mistress, must be hurt at my conduct, and all my friends likewise. I do not deserve their compassion, and yet I never wanted help so much. Oh! who shall comfort me now?"