Meantime, in the darkness of that February morning, Thomas Garret stepped forth from the sheltering walls of his still-beloved Oxford, and turned his rapid steps in a southerly and westerly direction.

His heart was hot within him as he pushed along, choosing the most unfrequented lanes and paths.  This was not the first time he had been hunted, and he had acquired some of the instincts of the quarry.  He knew how to lie hidden awhile in some sheltered nook, listening and watching, himself unseen.  He knew how to avoid notice, and how to pass through public places with the quiet air of confidence which drew no sort of attention towards himself.  His priest’s gown and hood would be a protection to him after he had shaken himself clear of the pursuit which might be set afoot by the proctors.  He had Anthony Dalaber’s letter in his wallet, and bread sufficient for the day’s needs.  He could fearlessly present himself at any religious house when he had reached another county, and he was certain of being well received and cared for by the monks, who received all travellers kindly, but especially those of the “household of faith.”

He spoke the words half aloud, and then a strange sound broke from his lips, half a laugh and half a groan.

“The household of faith!  O my God!  What would they say if they knew that he who came to them as one of the faithful, was flying an outcast from the wrath of the cardinal, branded as a dangerous heretic?  O Lord, be with me, and guide me right.  Am I not faithful?  Do I not love Thee, O Lord?  Am I not sworn to Thy holy service?  O Thou who judgest the hearts of men, and knowest all from the beginning, teach me what I should speak and do.  Teach me whither I should bend my steps.  I am ready to suffer persecution and death for Thy sake and the truth’s.  Only make me to see what Thou wilt have of me, that I may know whether Thou hast set before me an open door elsewhere, and art driving me thither, or whether Thou wouldst that I should return whence I came, and abide there whatever may befall me.”

For the farther Garret travelled, the more fearful did he become that he was doing wrong in taking flight after this sort.  To fly before his persecutors was one thing ­his conscience did not upbraid him for that; but to go into Dorsetshire, to present himself to Anthony Dalaber’s brother under a false name, to become curate to a man whose own brother termed him a “rank Papist” ­was that indeed his bounden duty?  Was that a right or righteous course to pursue?  But if he gave up that purpose, what next?  He knew not whither to turn, or where he might go with safety.  The arm of the cardinal was long.  He had eyes that reached far and wide.  All Garret’s own haunts were likely to be closely watched.

The man felt the fire of zeal burning hotly within him.  He looked up into the heavens above him, and he felt as though a great work yet lay before him.  He broke out into songs of praise and thanksgiving.  It seemed to him as though he saw written in the sky glorious promises for those who should endure steadfastly to the end.

There was something of the prophetic spirit in the man.  At times the world about him would recede from him, and he would be left, as it were, alone upon some vast immeasurable height, seeing as in a dream the things of God and the mysteries of the heavenlies stretched out before him.  Such a moment came upon him late in that day as he journeyed.  He seemed to see a vast and mighty struggle ­an overturning of thrones, principalities, and powers; a far-reaching upheaval in church and in state; a coming judgment, and a coming glory.

He awoke as from a trance, with his head on fire and his heart hot within him.  Words sprang to his lips, and he gave them utterance with a sense of power not his own.

“The Lord will arise.  He will judge between man and man, between good and evil, between truth and falsehood.  The Lord Himself is our helper.  Of whom shall we be afraid?  He is the upholder of the righteous cause.  Shall we fear what man can do unto us?  The time will come when all shall come to the knowledge of the truth; He has promised, and His word cannot fail.  Let us put our trust and confidence in Him, and fear no evil, even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  He will be with us to the end, and will overcome in us, when we are too weak to overcome for ourselves.”

The shades of evening were beginning to fall, and when the reaction set in after this period of spiritual exultation, Garret found himself somewhat weary and exhausted.  He had not slept at all during the previous night, and he had been afoot from earliest dawn.  He had accomplished a long day’s journey, and had only eaten a little bread and drunk of the water of the brooks he had passed on his road.  He began to desire the shelter of a roof and the cheering warmth of a fire, for the wind had risen, and blew upon him with keen and nipping cold, and his feet were sore from his long travel over rough ground.

He had breasted the rise of a long incline, and now stood at its crest, looking rather wistfully and eagerly over the darkening landscape in search of some human habitation.  He knew to a certain extent where he was, and that within some few miles there was a monastic establishment of some repute.  But five miles seemed a weary way to him now, and a sense of repulsion had come over him at the thought of presenting himself at any monastery in his priestly garb.  Not that he in any sort repudiated the sacred calling, but he felt that if the truth were known the monks would regard him as a wolf in sheep’s clothing; and he was experiencing a sense of distaste for any sort of subterfuge, whilst hesitating about giving himself up, lest he should be deserting the cause he had at heart by robbing it of one of its most active members.  If the Lord had work for him still to do, how gladly would he do it!

As he remained resting awhile on the hilltop, and gazing about him in search of some indication of human habitation, he suddenly saw the beam of some small light glimmering through the increasing darkness; and uttering an exclamation of pleasure, he bent his steps in its direction, confident of finding some human habitation at last.

It was not easy to keep the light always in view, but he managed to bear in that direction, and came at last into a region of meadow land, where there were some sheepfolds and pens, in which the flocks had been folded for the night, and which were watched over by a dog, who sprang barking towards Garret, but was pacified when he spoke gently to him, and showed by his actions that he had no intentions upon the sheep.

From where he stood he was able to see that the light glimmered out of an unglazed window in a wattled cabin, evidently the sleeping place of the shepherd.  After Garret had quieted the dog, he remained gazing for a few minutes at this steady light, and then (he scarcely knew why) he crept up very softly towards the little cabin, and looked in at the orifice.

The sight that he saw aroused his quickened interest.  The place was very small ­only large enough to contain a few sacks of straw for the bed, over which a couple of fleeces had been thrown by way of covering, a small rough table, on which a rush light stood, together with a few wooden platters, a loaf of bread, and a pitcher.  A box was the only seat, and upon it sat a grizzled, bent old man, with his back towards the window, and his head bent low over the table.

By shifting his position very slightly, Garret was able to see that he was bending over a book which lay open beneath the rush light, and that with his forefinger he was pointing slowly along the line.

Garret held his breath in astonishment.  In towns, at this time, would be found here and there a humble artisan or labouring man who could read, and amongst such the desire for the printed Scriptures was always keen and ardent.  But out here in these lonely wilds, far away from the haunts of man, it was a strange sight to see an old shepherd with a book before him.  The boys of the rising generation were beginning to be taught reading and writing in the grammar schools now springing up in the towns, but hinds of the age of this man were generally absolutely ignorant of letters in any form whatever.

The sound of a voice broke the stillness.  The old man had begun to read the words aloud.

“I will ­smite the ­shepherd ­and the ­sheep ­shall be scattered ­”

Suddenly a great wave of emotion came upon Garret, and he uttered a strangled cry.  The old man hastily thrust his book into the bosom of his coarse tunic, and gazed out of the opening with a strange expression of doubt and fear.

“What was that?” he asked, as he rose to his feet; and Garret, flinging back his priest’s hood, looked fearlessly in at the aperture.

“It is a friend, who loves the holy Word of God, and loves all who are bold enough to love and cherish it, also a man to whom a message has been sent through you, my worthy friend.  Open the door and let us clasp hands, for I know that the Lord hath sent me hither, and hath put a word in thy mouth which is meant for me.  What shall become of the sheep if the shepherd be smitten?  But shall the shepherd flee, unless he be an hireling and love not the sheep?  The shepherd must watch yet over his flock, even though he hold himself away from the hand of the smiter.  I see it all ­I see it all!  The Lord hath given me light!”

Not one syllable of this eager torrent of words did the old shepherd comprehend; but be recognized the voice of friendship and comradeship in the unseen speaker, and he unfastened his rude door and bade the stranger enter.  As Garret stepped into the light in his priest’s gown the man gave a little start of surprise.

“Nay, fear not,” answered Garret; “I am God’s priest ­not the Pope’s.  If thou dost own the words of Holy Writ, perchance thou hast even heard the name of Thomas Garret.  It is he who stands before thee now.”

The shepherd gazed at him for a moment as one in a dream, and then he seized his hand and pressed it to his lips.

“It is he! it is he!  I see it now!  It is he whose words awoke my sleeping soul!  O sir, I heard you preach once in London town, whither I had been sent on a charge of sheep stealing, but was released.  And, indeed, of that offence I was innocent.  But my life had been full of other evils, and I might well have sunk into the bottomless pit of iniquity, but that I heard you preach; and those words of fire entered into my soul, and gave me no rest day or night.  Then I heard of the Christian Brethren, and they received and comforted me; and when I could earn the money for it, I bought this copy of the Holy Gospels.  I have had it these two years now.  I had learned to read by that time, and when I had bought it I wanted nothing so much as a quiet life, away from the haunts of men, where I could read and ponder and study the blessed Word without fear of man.”

“So you took to the life of a shepherd ­a calm and peaceful life, that reminds us of many holy things.”

“I had tended sheep in my youth, and in these parts, sir, before I took to those wilder ways which well-nigh cost me my life.  I came back; and some remembered me, and I got employment as shepherd.  And here I hope and trust to end my days in peace.  But there be whispers abroad that the cardinal and the abbots and priors will make search after the precious books, and rob us of them, and brand us as evildoers and heretics.”

“Alas, and that is all too true,” answered Garret, with a deep sigh.  “In me you see a fugitive from the wrath of the cardinal.  I left Oxford at dawn of day, and have fled apace through the wildest paths ever since.  I am weary and worn with travel, and seeing this light gleaming forth, I thought I would seek here for rest and shelter; but little did I hope to find one of the brethren in this lonely cabin, and one who may himself suffer in the cause of truth and righteousness.”

“We shall not suffer more than the Lord did,” answered the old man, with a sudden illumination of feature, “nor more than He sees good for us.  It may be that He wants His martyrs in all generations and in all lands.  Does it not speak somewhere in the blessed Book of being made perfect through suffering?”

It was wonderful to Garret to find such depth of comprehension and power of expression in this apparently illiterate and humble old man.  To be sure, his accent was rough and homely, but the thoughts to which he gave utterance were deep and pure.

Soon Garret found himself sitting over the turf fire, sipping gratefully at the warm milk, in which his bread lay soaked, and telling the old man the whole history of his wanderings, his peril, and his doubts about the plan laid down for him with regard to the curacy he had been offered.

The more he talked, the more did Garret revolt against the idea of presenting himself to Master Dalaber in Dorsetshire under a false name and in false colours.  He could not believe that this could be pleasing to God, and he saw that the old shepherd, though diffident of speech, was of the same opinion.

“I will not do it,” he said at last, “I will not do it.  I cannot.  I will retrace my steps to Oxford, but will use all care and discretion to avoid notice.  They will by this time have discovered my flight, and Oxford is the last place in which they will now be seeking me.  I will enter it by night, slip into one of my old hiding places there, get speech with Anthony Dalaber, and tell him how I have changed my plan, so that he may know I am not with his brother.  Then I will put off my priest’s garb, and sally forth in the night, and make my way over to Wales, and then to Germany, where I can work with the faithful there, and perchance be of greater use to the cause than in this land, where for the present I am so watched and hunted.

“This priest’s garb has become hateful to me.  I feel in it as though I were acting a lie, albeit I shall ever hold myself the minister and priest of God.  It deceives men, who look to see in every garbed priest a servile slave of cardinal and Pope.  I can never, never be such an one; wherefore let me cast away the outer trappings, and cease to deceive the eyes of men.”

The shepherd, who only partially followed this monologue, which Garret uttered half to himself, half to his companion, understood this last argument, and slowly nodded his head.  There was beginning to grow up in the minds of many a fear and horror of the priesthood, not by any means always undeserved, though greatly exaggerated in many quarters.

But to go back to the perils of Oxford to secure a secular dress seemed a far cry; yet, when the men proceeded to talk the matter over, they saw no other way by which such garb could be obtained.  Neither had any money; and it might be dangerous for Garret to show himself at any town to purchase secular raiment there, even if he could beg money at a monastery for his journey.  He thought he knew the place well enough to make the experiment, without too much risk either to himself or to others, and before he stretched himself upon the shepherd’s bed of straw that night his mind was fully made up.

But upon the morrow he was forced to admit that one day’s rest would be necessary before he could make the return journey.  He was so stiff and exhausted by his long day’s travel, and the tension of nerve which had preceded it, and his feet were so sore in places, that he decided to remain with the shepherd for another day and night; and then at dawn, upon the following morning, which would be Friday, he would start forth again, reach Oxford after dark, find some hiding place there for the night, and after making the needful change in his dress, and advising his friends of the change of his plan, he would start forth a free man once more by night, and instead of tying his hands by allying himself with any Papist parish priest, he would cross the water, find himself amongst friends there, and return later to his native shores, bringing with him stores of precious books, which should be distributed to eager purchasers as they had been before.

The hours of the day did not seem long to the tired traveller as he mused upon these things.  The shepherd went about his daily toil, but often came indoors for a while to talk with his guest; and by the time the second night arrived, Garret was so far rested and refreshed that he had no doubt about making good his return journey upon the morrow, reckoning that by that time, at least, all hue and cry after him in Oxford would be over.

He slept soundly and dreamlessly through the night, and was awakened at dawn by the old man, who had made him the best breakfast his humble house could furnish, and waited lovingly upon him till he had satisfied his hunger and was ready to start upon his way.  Then Garret embraced him as a brother, thanked him heartily for his hospitality, gave him the blessing the old man begged, receiving one in return.

He set his face joyfully towards the city from which he had fled, for it seemed to him as though he had fled thence somewhat unworthily ­as though he had not shown a rightful trust in God.  It was a rash step he was taking now, but somehow that thought excited in him no anxiety.  He felt a great longing to see his friend Dalaber again, to explain matters afresh to him, and to start forth free from all trammels and disguises.

He was not, however, rash in exposing himself to recognition by the way, and kept to those secluded byways which had served him so well on his other journey.  He scarcely saw a soul the whole of the long day of travel, and although he grew very weary and his feet again gave him pain, he plodded on with a light heart, and was rewarded just before the last of the daylight failed him by a glimpse of the distant towers and buildings of Oxford.

His heart yearned over the place when he saw it.  It came upon him that here he would stay and abide the consequences.  He felt strong to endure all that might be laid upon him.  If it were God’s pleasure that he should suffer in the cause, would He not give him strength to bear all?  For a moment he forgot the peril which might come to others from his apprehension.  He only felt that if the martyr’s crown were indeed to be his (a thing of which he had a strong presentiment), it might well come soon as late.  And therefore, when he reached the city at dark, he slipped into the town itself, instead of lurking outside, as first he had intended, and made his way through the dark, narrow streets to a certain humble lodging, which he had used before, when Dalaber had not been able to receive him.

He met not a creature on his way.  He did not think his entrance had been marked as he passed through the gates.  A thick, drizzling rain was falling, which had wet him to the skin, and which seemed to be keeping every one within doors.  He found the door of his old lodging unlocked and the place empty, save for a little firing in a closet, which he soon kindled into a warming blaze.

He had bought food at midday in a hamlet through which he passed, and there was enough left in his wallet to provide him with a frugal supper.  He dried his clothes at the friendly warmth of the fire, and though the room was destitute of bedding, there were a few sacks on the floor.  Laying himself down upon these before the fire, he was soon plunged in a deep and dreamless slumber.

How long he slept he never could have guessed.  He afterwards knew that it was midnight when he woke.  What roused him was the sound of trampling feet on the stairs outside, and the voices of persons ascending.  He lay for a few moments in the darkness, which the few smouldering embers of the dying fire scarcely served to illuminate; and then in a sudden access of alarm be sprang to his feet and made for the door.

If escape had been in his mind, he was too late.  Already the door was burst open.  A flood of light from a couple of lanterns dazzled his eyes for some moments, so that he could only see that several men were in the room, and a stern voice exclaimed, “That is the man!  Seize him!” Then he knew that his hour had come, and that he was arrested.

Next minute he saw clearly, and found himself confronted by the proctors of the university, who regarded him with stern faces.  Who had given them warning that Garret had returned to Oxford has never, I believe, been known ­at least there is no mention of this made in the history of the known facts.  But some person must have recognized the man, tracked him to his lair, and set the bulldogs of the cardinal upon him.  He was taken at midnight upon the night of his secret return, and now stood a helpless prisoner in the hands of those set upon his track.

He looked at them with calm fearlessness.  His spirit rose to the peril, and his mien was dauntless.

“Upon what charge am I arrested?” he asked quietly.

“You will hear that at the right time and in the right place,” was the stern reply; “we are not here to bandy words with you.  Put on your gown and hood, though you so little deserve such garb, and come whither you are led.  Force will not be used unless you compel it.”

Garret resumed the outer garments he had laid aside for the night, and pronounced himself ready to follow them whither they would.

“Take him to Lincoln College,” spoke the senior proctor to his servants.  “Dr. London will keep him in ward, and deal with him in the first place.”

A slight smile passed over Garret’s face.  Dr. London of Lincoln was well known as one of the most bitter persecutors of the new opinions, and was reported to have stocks and other implements of punishment in a room in his house, which were used upon the recalcitrant and obstinate according to his pleasure.  If he were to be Dr. London’s prisoner, then farewell to any hopes of mercy.

Nevertheless he uttered no word as the men led him through the silent streets.  The rain had ceased, and the moon was shining in the sky.  The whole city seemed asleep as they hastened along.

But as they approached Lincoln College signs of life appeared.  In the rector’s house lights gleamed from several windows; and as Garret was pushed in at a side door, which was securely locked behind him, and led into a large, square hall, he saw the stern and frowning face of Dr. London gazing at him from the stairway, and a loud and masterful voice exclaimed: 

“Take him into the strong room, and lock him up for the night.  I will have speech with him upon the morrow.”

Garret was led down a short, flagged passage, and thrust through an open door into a perfectly dark room.  The door was closed, the bolt shot home, and he was left in silence and blackness to the company of his own thoughts.