He could take Dr. Langton as his standard of what a man should be. He did not mix himself up with the burning and controverted questions of the day. He followed his studies in medicine and Greek. His house was a resort of learned men of all schools of thought. Free discussion was carried on there on all sorts of subjects. He favoured the liberality of mind which the church opposed; yet he did not embroil himself with the authorities, and led his own quiet scholarly life, respected and revered of all.

"That is the life for me," spoke Dalaber, as he looked round his new lodging, and admired the fashion in which his belongings had been set up there. "I will follow the secular calling, keeping my soul and spirit free to follow the promptings of the Spirit. Whenever I see the opportunity to strike a blow in the cause of freedom, may God give me strength to strike boldly and fearlessly; but I will not thrust myself forward into needless peril. Obedience has its place in the church as well as other virtues. I will not be untrue to my conscience or my convictions, but without good cause I will not embroil myself in these hot controversies and perilous matters. I have no quarrel with Holy Church, as Master Clarke expounds her, I would only see her cleansed and purged of her iniquity, shedding light—the light of God—upon the paths of her children. Perchance, as he says, if we prayed more for her—if we pleaded more with her in secret, interceding before God for her corruptions and unholiness—He Himself would cleanse and purge her, and fit her for her high and holy calling. Love is stronger than hate, for love is of God. I would seek more of that spirit of love which shines and abides so firm in Him. I have been in peril—I am sure of it—and the Lord has saved me from the mouth of the lion. Let me show my gratitude to Him not by falling away from the narrow path which leads to life everlasting, but by treading it in meekness and humility, in His strength rather than mine own."

Dalaber was not unconscious of the besetting faults and failings of his temperament—an impulsive self confidence, followed by moments of revolt and lassitude and discouragement. He knew that a quiet stability was the quality he lacked, and that the fire of enthusiasm and the revolt against abuses which blazed hot within him was not the holiest frame of mind in which to meet a crisis such as had lately threatened him. He knew that he might have been tempted to speak dangerous words, to rail against those in authority, and to bring deeper trouble upon himself in consequence.

The influence of the fiery Garret upon him was always of this character. Now that he had gone, Dalaber was able to review the situation much more calmly and quietly, and to see that the Lord and His apostles were not advocates of violence and disruption, that they inculcated reverence to governors, spiritual and temporal, as well as patience, long suffering, meekness, gentleness, and forbearance. The sword of the Spirit was not a carnal weapon. Its work was of a higher and holier nature. It might have to be drawn forth in battle; but it must be wielded in obedience, and not in irresponsible rebellion. Faithful steadfastness was asked of all God's children; but not all were called on to go forth as champions of even a righteous cause. Their duty might be to stand and wait for what the Lord would bid them do.

Dalaber had a strong conviction that alone, and acting upon his own impulses only, he would do harm rather than good. He was not the stuff of which leaders are made. He knelt down suddenly, and prayed for grace and guidance; and scarcely had he risen from his knees before a step upon the stairs and a knock at the door warned him of the approach of a visitor.

The next minute Arthur Cole stood before him. He was followed by a servant, who laid down a bulky parcel and departed.

"Ah, friend Dalaber," spoke Cole, with a kindly grip of the hand, "it was told me you were moving into fresh quarters here, and methought a few plenishings might not come amiss to your lodgings. You are something of an anchorite in your method of living, Anthony; but this chamber deserves a little adornment, if you are not averse to such."

So speaking, Arthur unfastened the package, and there was a soft skin rug to lay before the hearth, where a small fire of wood and fir cones was burning; a gaily striped quilt for the truckle bed covered it up and gave it an air of elegance; and a few books—in those days a costly and valued possession—completed the kindly bequest.

"They tell me you are to prosecute your studies in the law," he said, as he ranged the volumes beside Dalaber's own sparse collection on the shelf; "and since I have trodden the path before you, you are welcome to these volumes, which I seldom refer to now, and can always borrow from you if need should arise."

"You are a true friend, Arthur," answered Dalaber, much gratified and delighted. "I thank you heartily. You are a friend to all, and we owe you much. It is the more kindly and welcome because you are not one of us in other matters, and might very well have withdrawn from all companionship with those upon whom the wrath of the cardinal is like soon to fall."

"I would speak somewhat anent that same matter, Anthony," said Arthur, suddenly turning upon his friend, and signing him to take the seat opposite. "It is in some sort on that account I have come. But first tell me—is Thomas Garret safely away?"

Yes; on his way—"

"Nay, tell me not that. I have no wish to learn his whereabouts—only that he is safe outside the city, and not likely to be taken."

"He has been away these two days; and if not taken already, I trow he will escape altogether."

Arthur heaved a sigh of satisfaction and relief.

"I am right glad to hear that, Anthony—for your sake almost more than for his, since you are my friend."

"And why for my sake, Arthur?"

"Marry, thus that had Garret been found in the place, they would not have stopped short with laying hands upon him. They would have seized also those who had consorted with him. Not finding him, they begin to doubt whether the cardinal was right in tracing him hither, and whether he and his books have indeed been brought here. But let them once lay hands upon him, and not he alone, but also his comrades and associates, will stand in much peril. So have a care, friend Anthony."

Dalaber felt the thrill of what was half relief, half fear, run through him; but his glance did not quail.

"He is gone," he answered quietly, "and no man has sought to lay hands upon me."

"No, and right glad am I of it. I have spoken up for you as one of my friends, and a young man of promise and integrity. But I beg you to have a care for the future, Anthony, and especially during these Lenten weeks upon which we have just entered. For a strict watch will be kept over all suspected men; and if you are found with forbidden books in your possession—"

Arthur's eyes roved keenly round the pleasant chamber as he left his sentence unfinished.

"I have none here," answered Dalaber. "I have nothing but mine own little copy of the Gospels, which I carry ever on my own person. There are no books here to bring danger upon me or any."

"I am right glad to hear it, and I trust you will have no more to do with that perilous traffic. For sooner or later it will bring all men into trouble who mix themselves up with it. And for you who can read the Scriptures in the tongues in which they were written there is the less excuse. I warn you to have a care, friend Anthony, in your walk and conversation. I trust that the storm will pass by without breaking; but there is no telling. There is peril abroad, suspicion, anger, and distrust. A spark might fire a mighty blaze. The cardinal's warning and rebuke to the heads of colleges has wrought great consternation and anger. They are eager to purge themselves of the taint of heresy, and to clear themselves in his eyes."

"I misdoubt me they will ever succeed there," muttered Dalaber, with a slight smile. "Thought will not be chained."

"No; but men can think in silence and act with prudence," spoke Arthur, with a touch of sharpness in his tone. "I would that you thinkers, who stand in peril of being excommunicated as heretics, had a little more of the wisdom of the serpent which the Scriptures enjoin upon the devout."

"Excommunicated!" exclaimed Dalaber, and said no more.

To a devout young student, who had all his life through regularly attended the office of the Mass, and had communicated frequently, and prepared himself with confession and fasting and prayer, the idea of excommunication was terrible. That the Mass was overlaid and corrupted in some of its rites and ceremonies Dalaber and others were beginning openly to admit; but that it was based upon the one sacrifice of the atonement, and was showing forth the Lord's death according to His own command, none doubted for a moment; and to be debarred from sharing in that act of worship was not a thought easily to be contemplated.

Arthur saw his advantage and pressed it.

"Yes, my friend—excommunicated. That is the fate of those who mix themselves up in these matters, and draw down upon their heads the wrath of such men as the cardinal. Believe me, there is such a thing as straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel. And that is what you might chance to find you had done, were you cast out from the fold of the church for a few rash acts of ill-advised rebellion and disobedience, when all the while you might have lived in peace and safety, waiting till a better time shall come. If this movement is of God, will He not show it and fight for it Himself?"

"Yes; but He must use men in the strife, as He uses men in His Holy Church for their offices there. Yet, believe me, I do not desire strife. I would rather live at peace with all men. I have taken up a secular calling, that I may not be embroiled, and that I may be free to marry a wife when the time comes. Always shall I love and revere those who stand for truth and righteousness; always, I pray, shall I have strength to aid them when occasion serves: but I shall not embark on any crusade upon mine own account. You may make your mind easy on that score, my friend. I do not desire strife and controversy."

Arthur looked relieved, and smiled his approval.

"Then I trust that on your account, friend Anthony, my fears are needless. I would that I were not anxious also for our beloved friend and master, John Clarke."

"Is he in peril?" asked Dalaber, with a startled look. "He had no great dealings with Master Garret."

"No; and for that I am thankful. But there are other causes for fear. The cardinal wrote to the chancellor that he had been told how that Oxford was becoming deeply tainted with heresy, that Garret was selling his books by scores to the clerks and students and masters, and that teaching and lectures were being held contrary to the spirit of the church. This has stirred the hearts of the authorities deeply; they have been making close investigation, and have sent word back to the cardinal what they have found here."

"And what have they found?" asked Dalaber, breathlessly.

"I know not all; but mine uncle told me this much—that they have reported to the cardinal how that the very men chosen and sent by him to 'his most towardly college,' as they call it, are those amongst whom the 'unrighteous leaven' is working most freely, and they specially mention Clarke and Sumner and the singing man Radley as examples of danger to others. What will come of this letter God alone may tell. It has been dispatched, together with the intimation that Garret is not to be found in or near Oxford. We await in fear and trembling the cardinal's reply. Heaven grant that he do not order the arrest of our good friends and godly companions! I am no lover of heresy, as thou dost know, friend Anthony; but from Master Clarke's lips there have never fallen words save those of love and light and purity. To call him a heretic would bring disgrace upon the Church of Christ. Even mine uncle, to whom I spoke as much, said he had never heard aught but good spoken of these men."

Dalaber looked very anxious and troubled. The friends sat silent awhile, and then Arthur suddenly rose to his feet, saying:

"Let us go and see Master Clarke and have speech of him. I have not been able to get near to him alone since I knew of this matter—so many flock to his rooms for teaching or counsel. But let us to St. Frideswyde for evensong. He will certainly be in his place there, and afterwards he will accompany us, or let us accompany him, to his chamber, where we can talk of these things in peace. I have much that I would fain say to him."

"And for my part, I have promised to sing in the choir at the evensong service there as ofttimes as I can spare the time," said Dalaber, rising and throwing on his gown. "I have not seen Master Clarke these past two days. I would tell him of the safe escape of Master Garret; for the twain are sincere friends, and belong both to the brotherhood, though they agree not in all things, and have diverse views how the church is to be made more pure—"

"Peace, peace, good Anthony!" spoke Arthur, with a half laugh. "Thou must have a care how thou dost talk rank heresy, and to whom. Such words are safe enow with me; but they say that even walls have ears."

"It is my weakness that I speak too freely," answered Dalaber, who had already opened the door. "But in sooth I trow we are safe here, for yonder chamber belongs to the monk Robert Ferrar, who—But no matter. I will say no more. My tongue is something over fond of running away with me, when I am with friends."

Evensong at St. Frideswyde's was always a well-attended service. Although it was now the chapel of Cardinal College, the old name still clung to it. The cardinal had removed much of the former priory and chapel of St. Frideswyde to carry out the plans for his college; but though the collegiate buildings were called by his name, the chapel generally retained its older and more familiar title. The daily services were better performed there than in any other college chapel; and many men, like Dalaber himself, possessed of good voices, sang in the choir as often as their other duties permitted them.

Service over, the two friends passed out together, and waited for Clarke, who came quietly forth, his face alight with the shining of the Spirit, which was so noticeable in him after any religious exercise.

He greeted them both in brotherly fashion, and gladly welcomed them to his lodging.

There was something very characteristic of the man in the big, bare room he inhabited. It was spotlessly clean—more clean than any servant would keep it, though the canons of Cardinal College were permitted a certain amount of service from paid menials. The scanty furniture was of the plainest. There was nothing on the floor to cover the bare boards. Two shelves of books displayed his most precious possessions; the rest of his household goods were ranged in a small cupboard in a recess. His bed was a pallet, covered by one blanket. There was no fire burning on his hearth. Several benches ranged along the walls, and a rather large table, upon which a number of books and papers lay, stood in the middle of the room. One corner had been partitioned off, and was very plainly fitted up as an oratory. A beautiful crucifix in ivory was the only object of value in all the room.

Arthur and Anthony both knew the place well, but neither entered it without a renewed sensation impossible to define.

"It is the abode of peace and of prayer," Dalaber had once said to Freda, describing the lodging to her. "You seem to feel it and to breathe it in the very air. However worn and anxious, fretful or irate, you are when you enter, a hush of peace descends upon your spirit, like the soft fluttering of the wings of a dove. Your burden falls away; you know not how. You go forth refreshed and strengthened in the inner man. Your darkness of spirit is flooded by a great light."

They sat down in the failing gleams of the setting sun, and Dalaber told of Garret's night and the errand on which he was bound. Arthur smiled, and slightly shrugged his shoulders; but the confidence his friend unconsciously put in him by these revelations was sacred to him. He had not desired to know; but at least the secret was safe with him.

"He will not go there," said Clarke, as he heard the tale.

"Not go to my brother?" questioned Dalaber quickly.

"No, he will not go there. I know the man too well to believe it. The impulse for flight came upon him, and he was persuaded that it might be an open door. But he will not carry the plan through. His conscience will not permit him to hire himself under a false name to a man who believes him an orthodox priest holding his own views. Garret will never do that, and he will be right not to do it. It would be a false step. One may not tamper with the truth, nor act deceitfully in holy things."

Then Arthur Cole began to speak, and to tell Clarke what had happened with regard to the cardinal and the heads of various houses, and how his own name had been set down as one who was suspected of the taint of heresy.

"They know that men come to your rooms to read the Scriptures and discourse thereon," he concluded, "and in these times that is almost enough to brand a man a heretic. And yet I know that you are not one. I would that the cardinal himself were half so true a servant of God."

A slight smile passed over Clarke's beautiful face. The light seemed to deepen within his eyes.

"Take heed, my kindly young friend, or men will call thee heretic next," he said. "It is hard to know sometimes what they mean by the word. Let it be enough for us to know that we are all members of the mystical body of Christ, and that none can sever us from our union with Him, save He Himself; and His word, even to the erring and the feeble and the sinner, is, 'Come unto me. Him that cometh I will in no wise cast out.'"

"I know, I know—if that were only enough!" cried Arthur, in perplexity and distress.

"It is enough for me," answered Clarke, with his illuminating smile.

"But will you not have a greater care for yourself—for our sakes who love you, if not for your own?" urged the other.

"What would you have me to do, or not to do?" asked Clarke.

"I would have you abandon your reading and discussions—for a time. I would have you, perhaps, even quit Oxford till this storm sweeps by. Why should you not visit your friends in Cambridge? It would excite no great wonderment that you should do so. We cannot spare you to the malice of enemies; and Garret being escaped from the snare, there is no knowing upon whom they may next lay hands. It would break my heart if mischance happened to you, Master Clarke; wherefore I pray you have a care for yourself."

Clarke regarded both young men with a very tender smile.

"I think I will not go; and how can I refuse to speak with those who come to me? The reading of the Scriptures in any tongue has not been forbidden by the Holy Catholic Church. I will maintain that against all adversaries. What I say here in my room I will maintain before all men, and will show that the Lord Himself, by His holy apostles and prophets, has taught the same. If any are in peril through words which I have spoken, shall I flee away and leave them to do battle alone? Nay; but I will remain here and be found at my post. My conscience is clear before God and man. I have not disobeyed His voice nor yet that of the Catholic Church. Let Him judge betwixt us. I am in His hands. I am not afraid what man can do unto me."

Dalaber's face kindled at the sound of these words, and the flame of his enthusiasm for this man blazed up afresh. There had been times when he had fancied that Garret possessed the stronger spirit, because his words were more full of fire, and he was ever a man of action and strife. But when Garret had been brought face to face with peril his nerve had given way. He had struggled after courage, but all the while he had been ready to fly. He had spoken of coming martyrdom with loftiness of resolution; but he had wavered, and had been persuaded that the time had not yet come.

Something in Clarke's gentle steadfastness seemed loftier to Anthony Dalaber than what he had witnessed in Garret a few days back. Yet he would have said that Garret would have flown in the face of danger without a fear, whilst Clarke would have hung back and sought to find a middle course.

"But if these meetings be perilous," urged Arthur, "why will you not let them drop—for the sake of others, if not your own?"

He looked calmly in the questioner's eyes as he answered:

"I invite no man to come to me to read or discourse. If any so come, I warn them that there may be peril for them; and many I have thus sent away, for they have not desired to run into any peril. Those who gather round me here are my children in the Lord. I may not refuse to receive them. But I will speak earnestly to them of the danger which menaces them and us; and if any be faint hearted, let them draw back. I would not willingly bring or lead any into peril. But I may not shut my door nor my heart against my children who come to me. The chariots of God are thousands of angels. They are round and about us, though we see them not. Let us not fear in the hour of darkness and perplexity, but wait patiently on the Lord, and doubt not that in His time and in His way He will give us our heart's desire."

Clarke's face was uplifted; in the gathering gloom they could scarcely see it, and yet to both it appeared at that moment as the face of an angel.



Chapter X: A Startling Apparition

It was the following afternoon—Saturday—and Anthony Dalaber sat in his new quarters with an open book before him. He was beginning to feel at home there, and to lay aside some of those pressing anxieties which had beset him ever since the flight of Master Garret upon Arthur Cole's warning.

Notwithstanding even the grave talk which had taken place the day previously in the room of John Clarke, Dalaber did not find himself seriously uneasy at present. He had been going to and fro in the town for the past two days, and no one had molested him, or had appeared to take any special note of him. He had attended lecture that morning, and had walked through the streets afterwards in company with several other students of his own standing, and not a word had been breathed about any stir going on, or any alarm of heresy being raised by those in authority. He began to think that Arthur Cole had taken somewhat too seriously some words he had heard on the subject from his relative the proctor. Upon his own spirit a sense of calm was settling down. He trusted and hoped that he was not in personal danger; but he also resolved that, should peril arise, he would meet it calmly and fearlessly, as Clarke was prepared to do should it touch him.

On returning to his room he had paid a visit to the monk Robert Ferrar, who lived on the same staircase, and was a friend of Garret's, and had ofttimes made purchases from him of forbidden books. As they sat and talked in Ferrar's room, Anthony espied a copy of Francis Lambert on St. Luke, and eagerly pounced upon it. Although he had left behind him all dangerous books, and had resolved to give himself up to the study of the law, his heart felt hungry and unsatisfied, and he begged leave to carry the volume to his own chamber, that he might indulge himself in its study and in pious meditation thereupon, preparatory to the exercises of the Lord's day, so close at hand.

Ferrar made no objection, only remarking that he himself was going out, and should not return until after compline, and asking Dalaber to take care of the book and keep it safe till he should come and claim it, for it was dangerous to leave such volumes where any prying eyes might find them.

So now Dalaber was sitting in his own lodging, with the door locked upon him, reading greedily from the open page, and drinking in, as it were, refreshment and strength, when he was roused from his reverie by the sound, first of voices, and then by a sharp rap upon the panels of his door.

His heart gave a great throb, and then stood still. He sat mute and motionless, giving no sign of his presence. Something seemed to warn him that this visit, whatsoever it might be, boded him no good. The knock was repeated more loudly. But he still gave no answer, sitting very still, and listening with all his might. He heard no more the sound of voices. Nobody spoke or called his name. But after a very brief pause the knock was repeated a third time, and with that fierce energy which bespoke some strong emotion; and suddenly it came over Dalaber that perhaps it was some one who was in trouble, or was in need of him or his help. Were not the brethren likely to be brought into sudden peril or distress? Might it not even be a friend come to warn him of approaching danger? At least it seemed to him that he must open the door and inquire; and so rapid was the passage of these thoughts that the reverberation of the third summons had scarcely died away before he had turned the key and flung open the door.

Then he started back in startled amazement.

"Master Garret!" he gasped.

"Shelter me, friend Anthony," gasped Garret, whose face was white as paper, "for I am a man undone. They have captured me once. I have escaped them. But they will have me again if I make me not away with all speed."

Dalaber dragged him almost roughly within the room, and closed the door with a bang, for he had seen on the staircase the eager face of one of the college servants; and the young man, immediately upon hearing Garret's words, had slipped downstairs—Dalaber guessed only too well upon what errand.

"Alas! why have you spoken such words?" he cried, almost fiercely. "Know you not that by so doing in the hearing of that young man, and by such uncircumspect fashion of coming hither, you have disclosed yourself and utterly undone me?"

Garret looked fearfully over his shoulder. He seemed completely unnerved and unstrung.

"Was the young man following? Alas! I knew it not. I came hither to seek Robert Ferrar, but he was out; and knowing that you had planned to move hither, and thinking it likely you might already have done so, I asked the servant where you were to be found, and he pointed out the place, and said he knew that you were within; but I knew not he had followed me. Could he have known who I am?"

"Nay, that I know not; but he heard you declare how you had been taken and had escaped. Alack, Master Garret, we are in a sore strait! How comes it that you are not safe in Dorsetshire, as I have been happily picturing you?"

Garret burst into tears. He was utterly broken down. He had not tasted food during the whole day, and was worn out with anxiety and apprehension. Dalaber set bread before him, and he fell upon it eagerly, meantime telling, with tears and sighs, the story of his wanderings, his resolution to return, and his apprehension in the middle of the previous night by the proctors.

"They took me to the house of the commissary," added Garret, "and they shut me up in a bare room, with naught save a pitcher of water beside me. I trow they sought to break my spirit with fasting, for none came nigh me when the day dawned, and I was left in cold and hunger, not knowing what would befall me. But when the afternoon came, and a hush fell upon the place, and no sound of coming or going was to be heard, I made shift, after much labour, to slip the bolt of my prison, and to steal forth silently and unobserved; and surely the Lord must have been with me, for I met no living soul as I quitted the college, and I drew my hood over my face and walked softly through the narrowest streets and lanes, and so forth and hither, thinking myself safest without the walls. And now I pray you, my dear young friend and brother, give me a coat with sleeves instead of this gown, and a hat, if you have one that smacks not of the priest; for from henceforth I will stand as a free man amongst men, and will serve no longer in the priest's office. To the Lord I am a priest for ever. I will serve Him with the best that I have; but I will no longer hold any charge or living, since I may not deny my Lord, and thus am called heretic and outcast by those in high places. I will away. I will get me to Germany. I will join the labours of the brethren there. Son Anthony, wilt thou go with me? for I love thee even as mine own soul. Think what we might accomplish together, were we to throw in our lot one with the other, and with the brethren yonder!"

Garret looked eagerly in Dalaber's face, and the tears started to the young man's eyes. He had been much moved by Garret's emotion, and for a brief space a wild impulse came over him to share his flight and his future life. What lay before him in Oxford if he stayed? Would he not be betrayed by the servant as Garret's accomplice? Would he not certainly be arrested and examined, and perhaps thrown into prison—perhaps led to the stake? Who could tell? And here was a chance of life and liberty and active service in the cause. Should he not take it? Would he not be wise to fly whilst he had still the chance? Who could say how soon the authorities might come to lay hands on him? Then it would be too late.

He had well-nigh made his decision, when the thought of Freda came over him, and his heart stood still. If he fled from Oxford and from her, would he ever see her again? What would she think of him and his flight? Would that be keeping "faithful unto death"? If he left her now, would he ever see her again? And then there was Master Clarke, another father in God. Could he bear to leave him, too—leave him in peril from which he had refused to fly? The struggle was sharp, but it was brief, and with the tears running down his face, Dalaber embraced Master Garret with sincere affection, but told him that he could not be his companion. It seemed to him that the Lord had work for him here; and here he would stay, come what might.

"Then, my son, let us kneel down together upon our knees, and lift up our hearts unto the Lord," spoke Garret with broken voice, "praying of Him that He will help and strengthen us; that He will prosper me, His servant, upon my journey, and give me grace to escape the wiles of all enemies, both carnal and spiritual; and that He will strengthen and uphold you, my son, in all trials and temptations, and bring us together in peace and prosperity at last, in this world, if it be His good pleasure, but at least in the blessed kingdom of His dear Son, which, let us pray, may quickly come."

They prayed and wept together, for both were deeply moved; and then Garret, having donned a coat of Dalaber's, and having filled his wallet with bread, embraced his young friend many times with great fervour; and after invoking blessings upon him from above, he watched his opportunity, and stole softly away from the college, Dalaber watching till his slight figure disappeared altogether from view.

Then with a heavy heart he went up to his room again, and locked his door. Opening his New Testament, which lay on the table beside the borrowed book of the monk, he kneeled down and read very slowly aloud to himself the tenth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel.

"Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves. But beware of men, for they will deliver you up to the councils, and they will scourge you in their synagogues; and ye shall be brought before governors and kings. But when they deliver you up, take no thought what ye shall speak, for it shall be given you in that same hour what ye shall speak. And ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake, but he that endureth to the end shall be saved. Whosoever shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven. He that taketh not his cross, and followeth after me, is not worthy of me. He that findeth his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it."

Long did Dalaber kneel in prayer, his reading being over, asking that God would endue His tender and newly-born little flock in Oxford with heavenly strength from above, and with the anointing of the Spirit, that they might patiently bear the heavy cross of Christ, which was presently, as he well saw, to be laid upon them, and that their young, weak backs might be strengthened to meet the burden and the cruel yoke.

Calmed and soothed by prayer, for others as much as for himself, Dalaber rose, and carefully wrapped together Garret's gown and hood with the monk's book, and hid them carefully beneath his bedding, that none entering the room might see them; and then he robed himself and started forth to warn the brethren of what had happened, for were there any who desired to flee the coming tempest, they must needs lose no more time.

He walked rapidly towards the city gate, when he was met by Arthur Cole, who came hastily towards him, a look of great anxiety and vexation on his face. With him was a student of his own college, Eden by name, one of the little band of brethren; and as soon as he saw Dalaber he quickly ran forward.

"We are undone!" he exclaimed. "They have taken Master Garret. He is in prison in Lincoln College. He is to be strictly examined after evensong today. If he refuse to give up the names of all to whom he has sold his books, and who have listened to his teachings, they declare he will be sent to the Tower to be examined by the rack."

The young lad was quivering all over in excitement and fear. Arthur, coming up at the same minute, spoke almost fiercely.

"What possessed the man to return to Oxford, once he was safe away? It seems he came back after dark last night, and was seen and followed and reported on. They found him at midnight, and will use sharp methods with him. I have no love for Garret and his firebrand doctrines; but he will be the means of betraying the whole brotherhood, an he be not steadfast; and who knows how such an one will meet the trials which will beset him? If he should betray thee, Dalaber, or our good master and friend John Clarke, I should find it hard indeed to forgive him."

"He will betray none—" began Dalaber; but Cole broke in with a scornful snort.

"I would not answer for him. He is a strange mixture of strength and weakness, devotion, constancy, and nervous fear. He—"

"He will not betray any, for he is no longer a prisoner. He has escaped from the commissary's house. He is miles away from Oxford by this time. Heaven send he quickly escape beyond the seas!"

Dalaber then related what had passed during the afternoon; and Eden, with great joy, volunteered to take the news to some of the brethren, who were suffering great anxiety on his behalf. As for Dalaber himself, he desired above all things to see and speak with Clarke; and Arthur being of the same mind, they proceeded arm in arm along the street in the direction of St. Frideswyde, where evensong would soon be in course of proceeding.

"It seems to me, friend Anthony," spoke Arthur gravely, "that if Master Garret has escaped, you are the person most in peril now. If that young man betrays that he fled to you in your lodging in Gloucester College, they will not be long in calling upon you to answer to them for it."

"I trust I shall be ready to do so," answered Dalaber, with grave steadfastness.

Arthur looked at him with a mixture of admiration and uneasiness. He hesitated awhile, and then said:

"What think you of an instant flight? I would help you with the best will in the world. There is my house at Poghley open to you. There is an excellent hiding place there."

Again Dalaber hesitated just for a moment; but this time the hesitation lasted scarce more.

"Master Garret desired that I should fly with him, but I refused. It came to me that I have been set here, and here will I remain. It may be that the Lord has a testimony for us to deliver. I am ready to leave myself in His hands."

Arthur looked thoughtfully at him.

"I will do what I can for you, Dalaber; you may be certain of that. But it may not be much."

"There is one thing you can do," cried the other quickly, with a lightening of the eyes. "You can tell Freda all the tale, and ask her prayers for me. Now that I am like to be a suspected person, I will no more go to her. But tell her that, come what may, my heart will ever be hers, and that I will seek to remember her words to me. I will strive to be faithful unto death."

"I will tell her," answered Arthur, not unmoved. "But we will not think or speak of death. Whatever may be done elsewhere, we men at Oxford have always set our faces against any bitter persecution for conscience' sake. Students are sent here to read, and study, and think; and if here and there be some whose speculations have led them somewhat astray, I doubt not that, when the consensus of opinion is taken, the greater number will be for using mild and gentle methods with them. Only be not too stiff necked, good Anthony. Do not fall into the delusion of thinking that none can be true Christians save your brethren. Bear an open mind as well as a bold front, and I doubt not we shall weather this storm without great hurt or loss."

"We?" questioned Dalaber, with a slight smile. "You are not one of us, Arthur, though you show yourself the kindest of friends, and that in the days of adversity rather than of prosperity, for which the Lord will reward you."

"I spoke the 'we' in the sense of another brotherhood, Anthony," said the other, with a slightly heightened colour; "for thou art the plighted husband of Frideswyde Langton, whilst I hope soon to win the troth plight of the beauteous Magdalen. Then shall we be brothers, thou and I, and I will play a brother's part by thee now if thou art in danger."

The two comrades clasped hands. Dalaber had long known that his friend was paying court to Magdalen, though he did not know how far that suit had progressed. But evidently Arthur did not think the time far distant when he might look upon her as his own, and his friend rejoiced with him.

Evensong at St. Frideswyde had already begun before the two friends reached the chapel, so they did not go in, but stood at the choir door, from whence they could see the dean and canons in their robes, and hear the singing, in which Dalaber had so often joined; but there was little of song in his heart just now—only a sense of coming woe and peril. They had scarce been there a few minutes before they beheld Dr. Cottisford coming hastily towards the place, bareheaded, and with a face pale and disturbed, so that Dalaber caught Arthur by the arm and whispered:

"Sure, he hath discovered the escape of Master Garret!"

The young men drew back behind a buttress to let him pass, and he was too disturbed in mind to mark them. They looked after him as he went up the church, and saw him go to the dean and enter into a whispered colloquy with him. Then both came forth again, looking greatly disturbed; and at that moment up came Dr. London, the Warden of New College, all out of breath with his hurry, so that Arthur whispered from his nook of concealment to Dalaber:

"He hath the air of a hungry lion ravening after his prey."

The three then stood together talking in excited fashion.

"You are to blame, sir, much to blame! How came you to leave him for so many hours unguarded, and only one bolt to the door? These men are as artful as the devil their master. It may be that he gives them powers—"

"Tush!" answered Dr. Cottisford angrily; "he got out by his own craft. I had thought that fasting and loneliness would be a profitable discipline for him. But I bid my servants keep an eye to the outer doors, which they omitted to do."

"You have done wrong, very wrong. I know not what the cardinal will say," spoke the dean of the college, thrusting out his lips and looking very wise. "It was his command that this pestilent fellow should be taken; and when he hears that he was laid by the heels, and then escaped, being so carelessly guarded, I know not what he will say. You will have to answer for it, Dr. Cottisford. The cardinal's anger is not good to brook."

Tears of mortification and anger stood in the eyes of the commissary. He felt that fate had been very unkind to him.

"He cannot have got far. He shall be taken. We will haste to send servants and spies everywhere abroad. He got out in full daylight. He must have been seen. We shall get upon his tracks, and then we will hunt him down as bloodhounds hunt their quarry. He shall not escape us long, and then shall he answer for his sins. He will not find that he bath profited aught by the trouble he hath given us."

The voices died away in the distance, and the two young men came slowly forth, looking gravely into each other's eyes.

"Will they indeed take him?" spoke Dalaber beneath his breath.

"They will try, and they will be close on his heels; yet men have escaped such odds before this. But here comes Master Clarke. Heaven be praised that they have not spoken of him in this matter. Perchance the hunt after Garret will divert their minds from the question they have raised about the lectures and readings in his room."

Clarke greeted his friends with a smile, but saw that they were troubled; and when they reached his room and told the tale, his own face was serious.

They talked awhile together, and then he prayed with them earnestly, for Arthur would not be excluded from joining in this exercise. He prayed that if trial and trouble overtook them, they might have needful strength and faith to meet it; might have grace to follow the Lord's injunction to be wise as serpents and harmless as doves; and might never be tempted to think themselves forgotten or forsaken of the Lord, even though the clouds might hang dark in the sky, and the tempest rage long and furiously about them.

After Dalaber had left Clarke's presence, refreshed and strengthened, and had parted from Arthur, who was going back to his own rooms at Magdalen, promising to keep a sharp outlook on all that passed, and do anything he could for his comrades, he went direct to Corpus Christi, where his friends Diet and Udel were generally to be found at this hour; and not only were they in their chamber, but Eden and Fitzjames and several others of the brethren were gathered together in great anxiety, having heard first of the arrest and then of the escape of Garret, and not knowing what to believe in the matter without further testimony.

Dalaber's story was listened to, with breathless interest. The escape of Garret was assured thereby, but there was no knowing when he might be captured. In any case Dalaber's position seemed full of peril. But he expressed no fear.

"Let them take me if they will," he said; "I will betray none other. Let them do to me what they will; the Lord will give me strength. Have no fear, my friends; I will not betray you. And I trow that there be few, save Master Garret and myself, who could give all the names of the brotherhood, even were they willing."

They crowded round him and pressed his hands. Some shed tears, for they all loved the warm-hearted and impetuous Dalaber, and knew that at any moment now he might be arrested.

"At least you shall not go back to Gloucester College tonight," spoke Fitzjames eagerly. "They shall not take you there, like a rat in a trap. Come to your old lodging for the night. It may be we shall have thought out a plan by the morning. We will not let you go without a struggle, Anthony. Come with me as of old, and we will watch what betides in the city."

Dalaber consented, with a smile, to the entreaties of his friends. He knew that it would make little difference whether he were taken in one place or the other; but he loved Fitzjames, and was ready to go with him.

"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," he said to himself, whilst his friends escorted him in a body to his old lodging, and left him there with every expression of affection and good will.

"I shall not be without comfort in the days to come," said Anthony, "be they never so dark and drear."



Chapter XI: Evil Tidings

"Anthony Dalaber taken!" spoke Freda, and her face grew white to the lips. "Oh, speak, good sir; what will they do to him?"

The monk who stood before the sisters, his cowl drawn over his face, his hands folded in his sleeves, took up the word again, which Freda's impulsive ejaculation had interrupted.

"He is not as yet taken prisoner, but he has been commanded to appear before the prior, and I fear me that is but the first step. He begged of me to come and tell you, and give you that packet," and his eyes rested upon a small parcel which Freda held tightly between her two hands; "so here am I to do his bidding, without staying to know what will befall him at the prior's hands. He went to answer the summons as I came forth hither."

The monk had found the sisters in their garden, having followed Dalaber's directions, and entered by the little door which he himself had so ofttimes used. At this hour the sisters were wont, in fine weather, to take an hour's exercise up and down the pleasant sheltered walk beneath the wall. Here the monk had found them, and had presented to Freda a small packet which contained Dalaber's New Testament, of which he knew full well he would speedily be deprived, and a few jewels and valuables which he possessed and desired to make over to her.

"Tell us all that has befallen him!" cried Freda breathlessly.

So far all she had taken in was that Dalaber had been summoned before the prior, but she felt that more lay behind. The monk was visibly troubled, and she knew him to be Anthony's friend. He stood before them with downcast mien and told his tale.

"It was yesterday in the afternoon that Anthony Dalaber came to me and borrowed a book. I lent it to him, bidding him be careful of it; and he locked himself into his room, whilst I went my way to sundry tasks I had to perform, and then on to vespers and compline. When I returned, Dalaber's chamber door was shut and locked. I went to mine own room, and presently the young man, a servant of the college, came in to perform some small duty, and he looked at me very cunningly, and asked whether I knew that Master Thomas Garret had been inquiring for me and for Master Dalaber. Having been made aware that he had already fled from Oxford, I gave no credence to the young man's words, and this seemed to anger him, for he told me plainly that Master Garret had come to the college, and had knocked many times at my door in my absence, and then coming away, had asked where Dalaber lived; and being directed to his door by this same youth, he had knocked till he obtained entrance, and had been shut up with him a great while.

"I was in doubt what to believe, and so said nothing; but later in the evening I was sent for of the prior, who asked me if I had ever had speech with Master Garret, and knew aught of him. I told him I had not seen him this many a day, nor knew that he was in Oxford, save that the servant had spoken of his having been there this very day, which I scarce believed. Having questioned me closely, he let me go, only warning me to have no dealings in the future with so pestilent a fellow. He saw that I was ignorant of his present whereabouts, and suffered me to depart with only a rebuke. But I left in fear and trembling for Anthony Dalaber, if indeed it should be true what the fellow had said that Master Garret had been shut up with him.

"I went many times to his room that evening, and sat up far into the night; but still he did not come, and I was in great fear that he might have been taken prisoner. I resolved not to seek my bed, but to pass the night in fasting and prayer on his account; and I was thus occupied when there was a sound of commotion nigh at hand, and I heard steps and voices and the sound of blows upon the door of Dalaber's chamber. I opened mine own door cautiously, having extinguished my rush light, and I saw that the proctors were there, together with the prior and various servants of the college. Not being able to obtain any reply to their summons, they had up a man with a great bunch of keys; and after some ado they forced open the door, and forthwith entered the chamber. It was empty of its occupant; but they were by no means satisfied with that, and made great search everywhere, tossing everything about in the greatest confusion, ransacking his chest and flinging his clothes about hither and thither, examining every chink and cranny, and well-nigh pulling the bed to pieces in hopes of making some discovery. And here they did find somewhat, for out tumbled a small bundle that had been hid in the bedclothes. There was the book which I had lent him—Lambert on St. Luke—and a gown and hood, which might have been his own; but so soon as the young man of whom I have spoken before saw them, he straightway vowed and declared that it was these things which Master Garret had been wearing when he visited Anthony Dalaber, and showed them a rent in the shoulder, which he said he had particularly observed when showing the priest the way. He had not known till Dalaber opened his door who the visitor was, but as soon as he knew he went to inform the proctors; and the chiefest marvel to me is that they tarried so long before visiting Dalaber's chamber. But belike they made hue and cry after Garret first. Heaven have mercy upon him if they get him into their hands!"

"But Anthony, Anthony!" cried Freda, with a quick catch in her breath—"I pray you tell me of him."

"Verily I will. When they had finished their search, and had got evidence that Master Garret had been there, they came across to my chamber and asked me what I knew concerning Dalaber. I did answer that I knew nothing, but supposed he would shortly return. I did not believe he had been to his room all night; which thing they did not seem to believe, and kept gazing all around my room, as though wondering whether I were not hiding him there. However, as my bare chamber offered no concealment even for a cat, they had to be satisfied at last; and they went away, only charging me straitly that so soon as Dalaber should return, I must tell him to repair him instantly to the prior, who would have speech of him. This I promised to do, though with a woeful heart, for I felt that evil was meant him, and I love him right well."

"Yes, yes; and what followed next?"

"Marry, this—that so soon as ever the college gates were open in the morning, at five o'clock, in comes Anthony Dalaber himself, his shoes and hosen all stained with mud, his face pale as though with watching and anxious thought, though his aspect was calm and resolute; and he came up the stairs without seeing me, and began to unlock his door. But the lock had been twisted and bent, and he was still struggling with it when I came out to him and began to tell him what had happened. He got his door opened, and the sight he saw before his eyes confirmed my tale, and he sat down and listened to all I had to say, very quietly, and without flinching. He told me that he and certain of the brethren had passed the night together, in his old lodging at St. Alban Hall, in prayer for grace and guidance; but that, though they had prayed of him to fly, it had not seemed good to him to do so; and that he had resolved to return immediately to his own lodging, and to await there whatever might befall him."

"My own brave, steadfast Anthony!" spoke Freda beneath her breath, her eyes shining like stars, but with a glint of tears behind their brightness.

"So I gave to him the prior's message, and he said he would lose no time in going to see him. But he knew not when or whether he might ever return to this place. So he made up that little parcel, and he gave it into my hands; and in so doing he begged of me that when eight o'clock had sounded from the steeples, I would myself enter yonder door and present it to one of the two maidens I should find walking here, and say that it was a parting gift from Anthony Dalaber, who was like to be taken of his foes."

The tears suddenly welled over and flowed down Freda's cheeks. It was Magdalen who found strength to ask:

"What will they do to him? Of what offence can they find him guilty? All the world speak well of him."

Robert Ferrar slowly shook his head, but made no reply; indeed, none could say what would befall next. When a man stood in peril of a charge of heresy his friends could not bear to ask too closely what might be his ultimate fate. Freda clasped her sister's hands hard as the monk slowly turned to go.

"Peace be with you! May the Lord help and sustain you," he said, in his low, earnest voice, "and give to us all the strength to bear the cross which He may see good to lay upon us!"

He paced with bent head along the walk, and vanished through the door by which he had come. Freda, with trembling hands, tore open the packet she had all this while been holding tightly clasped between them, and when she saw its contents the tears gushed forth.

She sank down upon the seat in the arbour, and the little, well-worn book fell open at a place where the page had been turned down. It was that chapter in St. Matthew which Anthony had been reading after the departure of Garret, and the sisters devoured the words together, both deeply moved.

"O Magda, Magda, how can I bear it?" cried Freda, laying her head upon her sister's shoulder; "I had thought to be so brave, so steadfast. We have spoken of it, and I had thought that in a righteous cause it would not be hard to suffer. And, in sooth, I verily believe I could suffer mine own self. But I cannot bear for him to be alone—for him to have so much laid upon him. O my Anthony! my Anthony!"

"And it is so little they ask, so little they hold; and our beloved Master Clarke maintains that the true Catholic Church has forbidden naught that they would fain see restored—only the liberty to read and study the living Word for themselves. They are not rebels; they are not heretics. They love the church, and they are her true sons. Only they maintain that some errors have crept in of man's devising, for which no Scripture warrant can be found; and they know that corruption hath entered even into the sanctuary, and they would fain see it cleansed. Is that sin? Is that heresy? Then methinks our Lord must needs have been a heretic and sinner (if it be not blasphemy to say it), for He would not suffer His Father's house to be polluted nor made a den of thieves. And what else do these godly men ask now than that the Christian Church shall be purified and cleansed of merchandise and barter, and become again a holy house of prayer, undisturbed by any such things?"

Magdalen had been one of those who had most earnestly drunk in the teachings of such men as Clarke, who combined an intense and devoted love of Holy Church with an ardent desire after a purer spiritual administration. His words to her soul were as words of life; and one of the things which had first attracted her to Arthur Cole, and become a bond of sympathy between them, was the deep admiration and enthusiasm that he always expressed with regard to Clarke and his doctrine and preaching. Freda had gone somewhat farther along the road which Anthony was pursuing—the road which led eventually to a greater upheaval and disruption than at that day any, save the most ardent foreign reformers, dreamed of. Even Garret and Dalaber and their companions were as yet ignorant of the inevitable result of their teaching and convictions. It seemed to them at this time that such a very little would satisfy them, that the church could not seriously excommunicate them or persecute them for what they believed. And yet—and yet—there was a sense of coming tempest in the very air. And when the sisters, having recovered their self-control, went indoors to tell their tale to their father, they saw that he was much disturbed, and that he considered Anthony's position as very precarious.

Just as they were discussing the matter in all its bearings, and anxiously wondering when it would be possible to obtain further news, there was a short summons at the door, and Arthur Cole entered, with a pale and anxious face. Evidently he saw from their faces that something had reached them, and his first question was:

"Have you heard the news?"

"That Anthony Dalaber has been summoned before the prior? Yes; his friend Ferrar brought us that news not long since. But beyond that we know nothing. Tell us, good Arthur, what is like to befall from that. Is he in any great peril?"

"I scarce know myself; but I fear, I fear. They are in a great rage at the escape of Garret; and since he is not to be found, they have laid hands upon Dalaber, and he is even now at Lincoln College, where he is to be examined by the commissary and others, with what result cannot yet be known."

"Then he did not go before the prior?"

"Yes; he did so at the first. News was hastily brought to me by a clerk from Gloucester College, and I hurried thither in time to hear much that passed at the prior's court. I have friends amongst the fellows and monks. I stood just within the door and heard all. The prior asked him of Garret's visit the day before, and he confessed the latter had been with him, but had quickly gone forth again. He was asked whither he had gone, and answered that he had spoken of Woodstock, where he had a friend amongst the keepers who had promised him a piece of venison for Shrovetide."

"Was that true?" asked Freda, who was listening with wide and eager eyes.

Arthur smiled slightly.

"Most like it was a witty invention to put the bloodhounds off the scent, since Dalaber would scarce deliver over his friend into the hands of his bitter foes."

"Is it right to speak a lie even in a good cause?" asked the girl, seeming to address no particular person, but to be thinking aloud.

"A nice question in ethics, sweet mistress," spoke Arthur, with a smile; "and it may be there are some (I can believe that Master Clarke would be one) who would die sooner than utter a falsehood. But for my part I hold that, as a man may take life or do some grievous bodily hurt to one who attacks him, and if he act in self defence no blame may attach to him, though at other times such a deed would be sin, so a man may speak a false word (at other times a sin) to save the life of his friend, and keep him out of the hands of those who would do him grievous bodily hurt, and perhaps put him to a cruel death. At least our own priests will assoil us for such sins. They suffer us to do evil that good may come—if not openly preaching the doctrine, yet by implication. I hold that no blame attaches to Anthony for speaking an untruth to save his friend."

Freda could not blame him either, though she held the truth in high esteem. It was a cruel predicament in which to be placed, and Anthony was ever impulsive in his thoughts and words.

Arthur took up his story again.

"The prior gave orders that search should instantly be made in the direction of Woodstock; and then, turning once more to Dalaber, he caught sight of the signet ring he always wore upon his hand, and asked him what it was. Dalaber took it off and gave it him to look at. You doubtless have noted the ring—a piece of jasper, with the letters A. D. graven upon it. The prior looked at it with covetous eyes, and finally put it on his finger.

"Sure, this must be mine own signet ring," he said, with a sinister smile, "for it hath mine own initials upon it—A for Anthony, and D for Dunstan."

"The robber!" ejaculated Freda hotly. "What said Anthony to that?"

"He said naught. He had other matters to think of than the loss of his ring. But, in sooth, there was no time for more to be spoken, for at that moment up came the beadle and other servants of the commissary, desiring that Anthony Dalaber should be brought at once before him in Lincoln College; and forthwith he was taken away, and I could only just whisper to him as he passed me by that I would see you and tell you all that happened."

Silence fell upon the little group as Arthur ended his narrative. All hearts were heavy, and they were not made less so by his next words.

"And I fear me greatly that Dalaber is not the only one who is in peril in Oxford this day. I fear me much that it will not be long before they lay hands upon Master Clarke."

Dismay and sorrow were in all faces. Dr. Langton looked intently at the speaker, as though to ask more, and Arthur answered the unspoken question.

"I think I have told you how that the cardinal has been informed that the very men he introduced into Oxford have been foremost in the spread of those doctrines which are begun to be called heresy, though not one word has Master Clarke ever spoken for which he cannot find confirmation in the words of Holy Writ and in the pure teachings of the primitive church. But having heard this, the cardinal is much disturbed, and hath ordered a very close and strict investigation to be made. I know not exactly yet what these words may mean to us; but at no moment should I be surprised to hear that Clarke and others of like mind with himself had been suspended from teaching, if not arrested and accused as heretics."

"Oh, it is too much! it is too much!" cried Magdalen, whose face had turned deadly pale. She was much agitated, and her wonted calm had deserted her.

Freda, who was standing at the window, suddenly exclaimed that Master Radley was coming hastily across the meadow path towards them, and some instinct seemed to warn them all that he was the bearer of heavy tidings. They could not await his coming, but went downstairs and out into the garden, where they met him breathless with his speed.

"Master Clarke is taken!" he cried, emotion and haste making his words barely audible. "He was warned last night of coming peril. The place was full of rumours, and it was known that Garret had been back and had escaped again. We counselled him to fly, but he refused. This morning the proctors sent for him, and he hath not returned. I am expecting a visit every moment to my chambers. They may or may not find the books concealed there; but it is known that I have hidden Master Garret. I shall not escape their malice. For myself I care little; but for that saint upon earth, John Clarke—oh, a church that can call him heretic and outcast must be corrupt to the very core!"

"Have a care, my friend, have a care," spoke Arthur, with a quick look round. "I would I could teach you zealous men a little of the wisdom of the serpent. You are careful one for the other, yet for your own selves ye seem to have no thought. But your tidings is evil indeed. So Master Clarke is to be another victim?"

"Alas! I fear me so. All the college is talking of it. Our dean, after matins this morning, spoke very grave words, and said how it was grieving him to the quick that this godly college, built and endowed by the holy cardinal himself, should be regarded as a centre of growing heresy, and how that he hoped by God's grace to purge and cleanse it. Master Clarke was not in his stall, and when we came out we heard that he had been taken. They think that others will shortly follow. Master Clarke and Anthony Dalaber are in their hands, and will be straitly examined. If they tell all that will be asked of them, many of us may be in prison ere long; if not, it may take time to hunt the victims down; but I trow they will be snared and taken at last."

"Anthony will never betray his friends," spoke Freda beneath her breath, a wave of colour flooding her face.

Magdalen had turned away, and was pacing up and down in a secluded walk. Arthur followed and came up with her, looking into her face, which was wet with tears. He took her hand, and she did not repulse him. She felt the need of help and sympathy. She was deeply troubled, and she knew that he was also.

"It will be a heavy blow to many of us, Mistress Magdalen, if aught befall our father and friend, Master Clarke."

"I feel as though I could not bear it," she answered, with a sob. "His words were as words of life to me."

"And to me also," answered Arthur gravely, "even though I do not call myself, as he did, one of this new brotherhood. But I hold him to be a holy man of God, with whom was pure and sound doctrine. If harm befall him, Oxford will suffer the stain of an indelible disgrace."

"Can nothing be done?" cried Magdalen earnestly. "Oh, can we do nothing? You are rich, you are powerful, you have many friends in high places—can you do nothing?"

"Whatever I can do, I will do," answered Arthur gravely. "I fear me in a crisis like this it will be little; and yet I will leave no stone unturned. I will even see the cardinal himself if I can achieve it, and if his life or safety are in peril. I would risk much for him and for Dalaber, for both are dear to me. Believe me, I will do all that in me lies; but I fear I cannot promise success. I know not what is intended, but I feel that there is much abroad of hatred and enmity against those who are branded with the name of heretic."

"It is so hard, so hard," spoke Magdalen again, "when they ask so little—just the liberty of thought and study, and only such things as the Word of God enjoins."

Arthur slightly shook his head. He knew well what the answer of the opposing party would be to such an argument; but he was in no mood for controversy, least of all with Magdalen.

He stopped as they reached the end of the walk, and she paused instinctively. He possessed himself of both her hands, and she did not draw them away.

"Magdalen," he said gently, "when Dalaber spoke to me of the peril that threatened him, he said that he regarded me almost as a brother, in that he was the betrothed of Freda, and he knew how that I did love thee as mine own life. Sweetheart, it scarce seems a moment in which to speak of love and joy; but let me ask at least the right to be near thee and to comfort thee in the hour of darkness and trouble. Those who are in peril are dear to us both. I will do all that one man can compass on their behalf. But let me have one word of hope and comfort ere I leave thee. Say, my beloved—dost thou, canst thou, love me?"

She hesitated a little, and then her head bent lower till it rested for a moment upon his shoulder.

His arm was round her, and he drew her towards himself.

"I think I have loved thee a great while now, Arthur," she answered, and felt his lips upon her brow and hair.

So when he walked away an hour later, although his heart was clouded by anxiety and doubt, there was a deep joy and triumph in his soul, and the sun seemed to shine with a golden radiance, despite the heavy clouds hanging in the sky.



Chapter XII: "Brought Before Governors"

The news brought by Arthur Cole to the house by the bridge was true enough. Anthony Dalaber had scarce answered the questions put to him by the prior of students at Gloucester College before he was called to answer more interrogatories before other potentates of the university.

He was bidden to follow the beadle and servants who had come for him without further ado, and had not so much as time to go to his room to make any change of shoes or hosen, which were bedaubed with mud, from his having come through the wet streets and miry roads to Gloucester College that morning at sunrise. Having been told by the monk that the prior's summons was urgent, he had presented himself before him instantly; and now he was hurried off in the direction of Lincoln College, with the soil and dishevelment of his sleepless night yet upon him.

Matins were evidently just over, and the students had left the chapel, but to his surprise Dalaber was pushed into that place by his conductors; and there, beside the altar, he saw Dr. Cottisford in close confabulation with Dr. Higdon, the Dean of Cardinal College, and Dr. London, the Warden of New College. These three men were noted throughout the university for their hatred of heresy in any form, and their abhorrence of the movement which had begun to show itself amongst the students and masters. Dalaber felt a certain sinking of spirit as he saw their stern faces, and noted their gestures and the vehemence of their discourse. He felt it boded no good to him, and he lifted his soul in silent prayer for help and strength and wisdom.

Then they saw his approach, regarding him with lowering and wrathful glances; and at a sign from them one of the servants fetched chairs in which they seated themselves just without the choir, and the prisoner stood before them. A man in the garb of a notary fetched a small table, with ink horn and parchment, as though to make notes of the answers of the accused.

"Your name is Anthony Dalaber," spoke the commissary sternly; "what is your age and standing in the university?"

Dalaber explained in a few words what was asked of him, and answered some quick questions as to his removal from hall to college without betraying any confusion or hesitation.

"What made you desire to study the law rather than continue in the study of theology and divinity?"

"I had reached the conclusion that I was not fitted for the life of a priest," answered Dalaber; "there were too many questions that troubled and perplexed me. In the study of the law I was free from these; therefore I resolved that that should be my vocation."

Dr. Cottisford frowned heavily.

"What need have you young men to trouble yourselves with vexed questions? I have heard of you, Anthony Dalaber, and it is no good report that hath been brought to me. You have been known to consort this long while with that pestilent heretic, Thomas Garret. He has lodged with you many a time, has lain concealed in your chamber at St. Alban Hall, and has left in your charge a quantity of his pernicious books, which doubtless you have assisted him to distribute amongst other students, so spreading the poison of heresy in our godly and obedient university, and seeking to turn it into a hotbed of error and sin."

Dalaber made no response, but his heart beat thick and fast. It seemed as though all were indeed known.

"Speak!" thundered Dr. London, now breaking in with no small fury; "what have you to say to such a charge?"

"I have known Master Garret, it is true," answered Dalaber, picking his words carefully. "He is an ordained priest in the church. He is a godly man—"

"Peace!" roared the angry warden; "we are not here to bandy words with you, Anthony Dalaber. We know what Thomas Garret is, and so do you. Have a care how you provoke us. He was known to be with you the night that he escaped first from Oxford. He is known to have been in your chamber yesterday, ere he slipped away for the second time. Do you dare to deny it?"

Dalaber looked with quiet firmness into the angry faces that confronted him.

"Master Garret visited me yesterday," he answered quietly, "and went forth from my chamber after a short while, when we had offered prayer and supplication there together."

"And whither went he?"

"I know not, unless to Woodstock, where he spoke of having a friend among the keepers," answered Dalaber, repeating the fiction he had spoken to the prior.

"Tush!" cried the commissary angrily; "right well do you know that you went with him, and kept company with him through the night. Your shoes and your hosen show as much. You have been companying with him for many a mile upon the way. You have not been in bed all night. We were in your room before daybreak, and you were not there."

"I abode last night with Master Fitzjames, my former comrade, in our old lodging at St. Alban Hall," answered Dalaber readily, "and that can be proven of many witnesses. Neither did I go forth with Master Garret when he left. I came to St. Frideswyde for evensong, and there I saw you, Mr. Commissary, and you, Dr. London, enter to speak with the dean. And I did well guess that you had come to tell him of the escape of Master Garret, of which he had spoken with me a short while before."

It was perhaps not a very politic speech on Dalaber's part. The three men turned angry and threatening glances upon him.

"You knew that that pestilent man was being sought for, and had escaped out of our hands, and you assisted him to further flight, and told nothing of what had chanced. Do you know the penalty which is attached to such misdemeanors, Anthony Dalaber?"

He made no answer. He knew himself to be in their power; but he resolved not to commit himself or to betray others by any rashness, whereunto by nature he was somewhat prone.

The three judges conferred together for a brief while, and then ordered that a Mass book should be brought, and bade Dalaber lay his hand upon it and swear to answer truthfully all questions put to him.

"That will I not do," he answered, "for I will not speak of those matters which concern other men. And as for myself, it is abundantly plain that you know already all that there is to be spoken of mine own affairs."

A smile passed over Dr. Higdon's face. He was the least severe of the three men, and something in Dalaber's bold bearing touched a sympathetic chord in his heart.

"Then, friend Anthony, why should you fear to be sworn? I pray you, show not yourself disobedient and contumacious, lest you bring discredit and trouble upon yourself which otherwise you may escape. It is not our wish to deal harshly with any man; but we would fain purge our godly colleges from the taint of deadly sin. If you are not guilty of such sin in your own soul, have no fear. It is a guilty conscience that makes men fear to lay hands upon the holy Book and take the name of the Most High upon their lips."

This specious but rather vague reasoning had its effect upon Anthony; and even more did the kindliness with which the words were spoken prevail with him, so that he consented to swear to speak the truth, though in his heart he resolved that he would only answer for himself, and that nothing which might incriminate others should pass his lips.

A long interrogatory now followed, in which he had much ado to fence and parry many of the questions. He soon learned, to his deep grief and sorrow of heart, that John Clarke was under suspicion, if not already arrested under the charge of heresy. He admitted to have been much in his company, and to have attended his public lectures, his public preachings, and those meetings in his rooms for reading, meditation, and discussion, which had long been going on. These were well known by this time to the authorities; but only since the cardinal's letter had stirred up suspicion and fear had there been any distrust aroused as to the nature of such meetings. A whisper here, a hint there, had lately gone abroad, and now Anthony was closely questioned as to the nature of the doctrines discussed, and the readings which had taken place.

He answered that no word had ever passed Master Clarke's lips that was not godly, pious, and full of the Holy Ghost. He heeded not the angry looks of Dr. London and the commissary, but addressed himself to Dr. Higdon, who was evidently wishful to think as well as possible of one of the leading canons of his own college. Anthony strenuously denied that Clarke had had any hand in the distribution of forbidden books or translations of the Scriptures. When they read the Bible together, it was read both in the original and in the vulgar tongue, so that the two versions might be carefully studied together; and Dalaber maintained with spirit and success the arguments learned from Clarke that the Catholic Church in this land had never forbidden such reading and study of God's Word. Dr. Higdon might have been satisfied, and even spoke a few words in favour of letting the young man go to his lodgings, only binding him over to appear when summoned in the future.

But the other two, having lost Garret, were resolved to make the most of his accomplice; and they argued that what Master Clarke had or had not said was not the main point at issue. He might or might not be the dangerous heretic some asserted. What they maintained was that Dalaber had been associated with Garret in a hundred ways, and that a great bale of forbidden books had been discovered in a secret hiding place just outside his deserted chamber at St. Alban Hall; and that, until he had given some better account of himself and his connection with these matters, he should certainly not be allowed to depart. Moreover, they desired to know the names of other students who had attended Master Clarke's readings and discussions. These were known to have taken place; but as they were mostly held in the evening after dark, it was not so easy to discover who attended them, and Dalaber was required to give such names as he could remember.

But here he was resolutely silent, and this so obstinately that he irritated his questioners to the extreme, even Dr. Higdon losing patience with him at the last. Dalaber's manner was bold, and to them aggressive. The poor youth at heart felt fearful enough as he marked the anger his obstinacy had aroused; but he was resolved not to show fear, and not to betray others. He admitted freely that he had helped Garret in the distribution of the forbidden books. Denial would have been useless, even could he have brought himself to take a lie upon his lips and perjure himself; but he absolutely refused to give the names of any persons to whom the books had been given or sold, and this refusal evoked a great deal of anger and some rather terrible threats.

"Young man," said Dr. London sternly, "do you know what can and may well be done to you if you remain thus obstinate, and refuse the information which we, as the guardians of the university, do justly demand of you?"

"I am in your power," answered Dalaber; "you can do with me what you will."

"We can do but little," answered Dr. London. "We can do little but keep you safe in ward—safer than Master Garret was kept; and that shall be my task. But what we can do later is to send you to the Tower of London, where they will examine you by the rack, and thrust you into the little-ease to meditate of your obstinacy; and then will you desire that you had spoken without such harsh pressure, and had listened to the words of counsel and warning given you by those who have your welfare at heart. If once you are handed over to the secular arm, there is no knowing what the end may be. Therefore take heed and be not so stubborn."

They watched his face closely as these terrible threats were made; and Anthony, aware of their scrutiny, braced himself to meet it, and to show no signs of any sinking at heart. And indeed the very imminence of the threatened peril seemed to act as a tonic upon his nerves, and he felt something of the strengthening power which has been promised to those who suffer persecution for conscience' sake; so that at that moment there was no fear in his heart, but a conviction that God would fight for him and keep him strong in the faith. Come what might, he would not betray his friends.

It was not a question of subtle doctrines, in which his understanding might become confused; it was a simple question of honour betwixt man and man, friend and friend. He had the power to betray a vast number of men who had trusted him, and nothing would induce him to do it, not even the threat of torture and death. He trusted to be able to endure both, should that be his fate.

"Take him away," spoke Dr. London at last, in a voice of thunder—"take him away, and we will see him again when discipline has something tamed his spirit. And it will then be strange if we cannot wring somewhat more from him. I will see him myself at a later hour; and you, Dr. Cottisford, will have a care that he doth not escape, as Master Garret did yesterday."

"I have provided against that, methinks," was the rather grim reply; and forthwith the three men rose and marched towards the chapel door, the prisoner being led after them by the servants.

The commissary then led the way through various passages and up a long stair, and Dalaber gazed with interest as he passed through the door of a large upper chamber, where a strange-looking apparatus stood in one corner. It was something like the stocks set in the marketplaces of the towns, for the detention of rogues and vagrants; but the holes in this were very high up, yet scarce high enough for the hands of a man standing.

"Empty your pockets, Anthony Dalaber," spoke the commissary sternly; and when Dalaber had obeyed, he quietly possessed himself of his purse, loose money, knives, and tablets, which, with the girdle he wore, were wrapped together and made into a packet.

"If you are found guiltless of the charges wherewith you stand accused, you shall have them again," said Dr. Cottisford somewhat grimly; "meantime they will be safer with me."

Dalaber's heart sank somewhat, for he had a few silver pieces in his purse, and had thought perchance to purchase therewith some greater favour from his jailers, whosoever they should be; but being thus robbed, he was powerless in the matter, and could only trust that they would not deal with him over harshly, since he had no means of winning favour and ease.

"Set him in the stocks and leave him," spoke the commissary. "Then we shall know there can be none escape."

Anthony made no resistance as he was forced to the ground and his legs firmly locked into the stocks, so that his feet were well nigh as high as his head. He uttered no complaint, and he spoke not a word of supplication, although the commissary lingered for a few moments as though to give him chance to do this; but as he remained silent and irresponsive, the latter left the room with a muttered word that sounded like an imprecation, and Dalaber heard the chamber door locked behind him as the last servant took his departure.

Left thus alone in that constrained posture, the thoughts of Dalaber flew back to those words of fatherly counsel and warning spoken the previous year by his master and friend John Clarke; and half aloud did Dalaber repeat the concluding sentence of that address: "Then will ye wish ye had never known this doctrine; then will ye curse Clarke, and wish ye had never known him, because he hath brought you to all these troubles."

"No, no!" cried Dalaber eagerly, as though crying aloud to one who could hear his words; "that will I never do, God helping me. Come what may, I will thank and praise Him that I have been honoured by the friendship of such a saint upon earth. I thank Him that I have learned to love and to know the Scriptures as I never could have known them but for reading them in mine own tongue, and hearing him discourse upon them. Come what may, none can take that knowledge from me. Whatever I may have to suffer, I shall ever have that treasure in mine heart. And since I am no heretic in doctrine, and believe all that the canons of the church teach, how can they treat me as one who hates and would confound her? I am no follower of Martin Luther, though I hold that he is waging war in a righteous cause. But I would see the church arise and cast forth from herself those things which defile; and more and more do her holy and pious sons agree in this, that she doth need some measure of purification, ere she can be fit to be presented to the Father as the bride of the Lamb."

Dalaber was just now under the influences of Clarke rather than of Garret. It was not only fear of what was coming upon him, though that might have some share in the matter, but he had found of late more comfort in the spiritual utterances of Clarke than in the bellicose teachings of Garret. Moreover, he had not been blind to the fact that Garret's courage had ebbed very visibly under the stress of personal peril, whilst Clarke's spirit had remained calm and unshaken. Dalaber had keen sympathy with Garret, in whose temperament he recognized an affinity with his own, and whose tremors and fits of weakness and yielding he felt he might well share under like trial and temptation. Indeed, he did not deny to himself that, were he not thus fast bound, he might have attempted the escape which yesterday he had scorned. But he thought upon the words of his beloved master, and spent the long, weary hours in meditation and prayer; so that when the commissary visited him later in the day and questioned him again, although he still refused to implicate others in any charge, he spoke of his own convictions with modesty and propriety, so that the commissary began to question whether he were, after all, so black a heretic as had been painted, and promised that he should have food sent him, together with pens and paper, on which he was desired to set forth a confession of his faith. He was not, however, released from the stocks until the college was safely shut up for the night, and all gates closed.

Dalaber wrote his confession of faith with great care and skill; and he trusted that he had not committed himself to any doctrine which would arouse the ire of those who would read it. Those very early reformers (to use the modern term) were in a very difficult position, in that they had very slight cause of quarrel with the church of which they called themselves true sons. Modern Protestants find it hard to believe what men like Wycliffe and Latimer taught on many cardinal points. To them it would sound like "rank papacy" now. The split between the two camps in the church has gradually widened and widened, till there seems no bridging the gap between Christian and Christian, between churchman and churchman—all being members of one Catholic Church.

But it was not so in the days of Anthony Dalaber. The thought of split and schism was pain and grief to most. Luther had foreseen it, was working for it, and the leaven of his teaching was permeating this and other lands; but it had taken no great hold as yet. The church was revered and venerated of her children, and here in England the abuses rampant in so many lands were far less flagrant.

England had been kept from much evil by her inherent distrust of papal supremacy. The nation had more or less combated it in all centuries. Rome's headship only received a qualified assent. Sovereigns and people had alike resented the too great exercise of the papal prerogative; and this had done much for the church in England. It seemed as though a very little would be enough to serve the purpose of these early reformers, and in the main they held the doctrines taught, and were willing and ready to obey most of the church's injunctions.

A man like Anthony Dalaber, versatile and eager, easily roused to enthusiasm and passionate revolt, but as easily soothed by gentleness and kindly argument of a truly Catholic kind, was not a little perplexed in such a situation as he now found himself. It seemed to him that he would be in a far more false position as a branded heretic, debarred from the communion of the church, than as a faithful son, undergoing some penance and discipline at her hands. He spent many long and painful hours writing out his confession, seeking to make plain the condition of his mind, and proving to his own satisfaction that he was no heretic. He only claimed that men might have liberty to read for themselves in their own tongue the words of the Lord and His apostles, and judge for themselves, under reasonable direction, what these words meant. For the rest, he had little quarrel with the church, save that he thought the sale of indulgences and benefices should be stopped; and in conclusion he begged that, if he had spoken amiss, he might be corrected and reproved, but not given over as a reprobate or heretic.

Perhaps, had the words of this confession been read a few days earlier, Dalaber might have escaped with no more than a reprimand and heavy penance. But unluckily for himself the bale of books last brought by Garret, hidden near to his chamber, and traced therefore direct to him, contained writings of a character more inflammatory and controversial than anything which had gone before—books which were thought full of deadly errors, and against which exception could very well be taken on many grounds, both on account of their violent tone and their many contradictions.

As a matter of fact, Dalaber had hardly read any of these treatises himself. He had been otherwise occupied of late. But it was not likely that the authorities would believe any such disclaimer, or leave at large one who had meddled with what they regarded as so deadly a traffic.

When Anthony's confession was brought to them, they were sitting in conclave over these books, and with a list which had been found of the names and number of works brought over and circulated by Garret. The magnitude of the traffic excited in them the utmost concern and dismay. If one half had been circulated in Oxford, there was no knowing the extent of the mischief which might follow. It was necessary that an example should be made. Already close inquiry had elicited the names of some dozen students or masters concerned. Dalaber and Clarke were accounted ringleaders, but others came in for their share of blame.

By Monday night quite a dozen more arrests had been made, and Anthony Dalaber was only taken from the commissary's chamber to be thrown into prison in Oxford, with the grim threat of the Tower of London sounding in his ears.



Chapter XIII: In Prison

The wrath of the cardinal was greatly stirred. Thomas Garret had escaped once again. His own college had been proved to be, if not a hotbed of heresy, at least one of the centres whence dangerous doctrines had been disseminated; and amongst those who had been engaged in this unrighteous task were several of those very men whom he himself had introduced there, that they might, by their godly life and conversation, be shining lights amongst their companions.

It was natural, perhaps, that Wolsey's wrath should burn somewhat fiercely, and be especially directed against the black sheep of his own college. He was too busy with public affairs to come himself to Oxford at this juncture; but he wrote many and lengthy epistles to the authorities there, and prayed them to use every means in their power of ridding the place of heresy, promising to give the matter his own earnest consideration. He had believed that heresy was for the present stamped out in London, owing to the prompt and decisive measures taken. He declared it would be far easier to tackle in the smaller town of Oxford; yet he and others who knew the two schools of thought had an inkling that the seed, once sown in the hearts of young and ardent and thinking men, would be found sprouting up and bearing fruit sometimes when least expected.