“I have sent for you, Master Cole,” spoke the Dean of Cardinal College, “because it is told to me that you, whilst yourself a blameless son of Holy Church, have strong friendship for some of those unhappy youths who are lying now in ward, accused of the deadly sin of heresy; and in particular, that you are well known to Anthony Dalaber, one of the most notable and most obstinate offenders.”

“That is true,” answered Arthur readily.  “I have had friendship this many years with Dalaber, long ere he took with these perilous courses against which I have warned him many a time and oft.  Apart from his errors, which I trust are not many or great, he has ever appeared a youth of great promise, and I have believed him one to make his way to fame and honour in days to come, when once these youthful follies are overpast.”

“I have heard the same from others,” answered Dr. Higdon; “and albeit he has never been a student here, nor come under my care, I have oftentimes come across him, in that he has sung in our chapel, and lent us the use of his tuneful voice in our services of praise.  I have noted him many a time, and sometimes have had conversation with him, in the which I have been struck by his versatility and quickness of apprehension.  Therefore (having in this matter certain powers from my lord cardinal in dealing with these hapless young men) I am most anxious so to work upon his spirit that he show himself not obstinate and recalcitrant.  Almost all his comrades have proved their wisdom and the sincerity of their professed devotion to Holy Church by promising submission to the godly discipline and penance to be imposed upon them; but Dalaber remains mutely obstinate when spoken to, and will neither answer questions nor make any confession or recantation of error.  I have therefore avoided his company, and abstained from pressing him, lest this only make him the more obstinate.  I would fain use gentle and persuasive measures with all these misguided youths, and I trow that we shall thus win them, as we might never do by harshness and cruelty.  Loneliness and the taste they have had ­some amongst them ­of prison life has done somewhat to tame them; and for the rest, we have had little trouble in persuading them to be wise and docile.”

“I am right glad to hear it,” spoke Arthur quickly, “for I have consorted with many amongst these same men; and I know right well that they are godly and well-disposed youths, earnestly desirous to be at peace with all men, and to live in obedience to Holy Church, whom they reverence and love as their mother.  They have been something led away through such men as Master Garret, who ­”

Arthur paused, for a curious smile had illumined Dr. Higdon’s face.  He looked full at Arthur as he said: 

“Yes, Master Garret has been much to blame in this matter; but the cardinal has so dealt with him by gentleness and kindness, and by the clear and forceful reasoning of which he is master, that Thomas Garret himself is now here in Oxford, ready to do penance for his sins of disobedience and rebellion; and to this submission do we owe that of his confederates and lesser brethren.  When they heard that he had promised compliance to the cardinal’s commands, they themselves yielded without much delay.”

“Garret here in Oxford!” exclaimed Arthur, in surprise, “and a penitent, submissive to the cardinal!  Then, truly, no others should be hard to persuade.  But what is it that the cardinal asks of them?”

Dr. Higdon smiled that rather subtle smile which on many faces, and especially on those of ecclesiastics, tends to grow into one of craft.

“He calls it an act of recantation, but we speak of it to the young men as one of obedience and reconciliation.  There will be here in Oxford a solemn function, like unto what was seen not more than a year ago in London, when those who have been excommunicated, but are now about to be reconciled, will appear in procession, each carrying a fagot for the fire which will be lighted at Carfax; and having thrown their fagot, they will then throw upon the flames some of those noxious books the poison of which has done such hurt to them and others; and having thus humbled themselves to obedience, they will be received and reconciled, and on Easter Day will be readmitted to the holy ordinances from which they have been excluded all these weeks.”

“And Garret will take part in that act of obedience?” asked Arthur, in subdued astonishment.

“He will.  The cardinal has persuaded him to it.  What means he has used I know not, save that all has been done by gentle suasion, and nothing wrung from him by cruelty or force.  And thus it is that I would deal with Anthony Dalaber.  If I know aught of his nature, he would stand like a rock against the fierce buffeting of angry waves, he would go to the rack and the stake with courage and constancy.  But a friend may persuade where an adversary would only rouse to obstinacy.  And therefore have I sent for you, hoping that you may have wisdom to deal with him and persuade him to this step; for if he submit not himself, I fear to think what may be his fate.”

“I will willingly try my powers upon him,” answered Arthur, speaking slowly and with consideration.  “I trow that the world will lose a true and valuable man in losing Anthony Dalaber.  It will go far with him that Master Garret has consented to this act of obedience and submission.  But there is one other of whom he is sure to ask.  Is Master Clarke also about to take part in this ceremony of reconciliation?”

A very troubled look clouded Dr. Higdon’s face.

“Alas! you touch me near by that question.  With Clarke we can prevail nothing.  And yet there is no more pious and devoted son of the church than he; and God in heaven is my witness that I know him for a most righteous and godly man, and that to hear him speak upon these very matters brings tears to the eyes.  His face is as the face of an angel; his words are the words of a saint.  My heart bleeds when I think of him.”

“Why, then, is he accounted heretic and excommunicate?”

“You may well ask.  I have asked myself that same question, for, as one of the canons of this college here, he is to me as a son.  I was wroth at the first when it was told that here in this place we had a nest of pestilent heretics; but since I have come to know more of John Clarke, the more do I grieve that such doctrine as he holds should be condemned as heresy.  It is true that he is unsound on some points ­that I may not deny; but he is so full of sweetness, and piety, and the love of God and of the church, that I would hold his errors lightly and his graces and gifts in esteem.  But alas! the bishop has heard much about his readings and his expounding of the Scriptures.  He vows that he and Garret and the monk Ferrar have been the ringleaders in all this trouble, and that, unless they formally recant and join in this act of open submission, they shall be dealt with as obstinate heretics, and handed over to the secular arm, to perish by fire.”

Arthur’s face grew suddenly pale to the lips.

“They would burn a saint like Clarke!  God forgive them even for such a thought!  Truly men may say ­”

Dr. Higdon raised his hand to stop Arthur’s words, but his face was full of distress and sympathy.

“We will trust and hope that such a fearful consummation will not be necessary.  The others have submitted; and Clarke is but a shadow of himself, owing to the unwholesome nature of the place in which he is confined.  I do not despair yet of bringing him to reason and submission.  He is not like Dalaber.  There is no stubbornness about him.  He will speak with sweet courtesy, and enter into every argument with all the reasonableness of a great mind.  But he says that to walk in that procession, to take part in that act of so-called recantation and reconciliation, would be in itself as a confession that those things which he had held and taught were heretical.  And no argument will wring that admission from him.  He declares ­and truly his arguments are sound and cogent ­that he has never spoken or taught any single doctrine which was not taught by our Lord and His apostles and is not held by the Catholic Church.  And in vain do I quote to him the mandates of various Popes and prelates.  His answer ever is that, though he gives all reverence to God’s ministers and ordained servants in the church, it must ever be to the Head that he looks for final judgment on all difficult points, and he cannot regard any bishop in the church ­not even the Bishop of Rome ­as being of greater authority than the Lord.

“It is here that his case is so hopeless.  To subvert the authority of the Pope is to shake the church to her foundations.  But nothing I say can make Clarke understand this.  It is the one point upon which he is obstinately heretical.”

“But you still have hopes of inducing him to submit?”

“I shall not cease my efforts, or cease to hope,” answered Dr. Higdon earnestly, “for in truth I know not what will be the end if he remain obstinate or, rather, I fear too much what that end will be.  If it lay with the cardinal, there would be hope; but the bishop is obdurate.  He is resolved to proceed to the uttermost lengths.  Pray Heaven Clarke may yet see the folly of remaining obstinate, and may consent at the last to submit as the others have done!”

“Have all done so?”

“There is Dalaber yet to win,” answered the dean, “and there are a few more ­Sumner for one, and Radley for another ­who have not given the assurance yet.  If Clarke would submit, they would do so instantly; but they are near to him in the prison, and they can speak with each other, and so they hang together as yet, and what he does they will do.  But their peril is not so great as his.  The bishop has not named any, save Garret, Ferrar, and Clarke, as the victims of the extreme penalty of the law.  Dalaber may well be included if he remains obdurate, and therefore I am greatly concerned that he should be persuaded.

“Think you that you can work upon him, were I to win you permission to see him?  I have heard that you did visit him awhile since, when he was kept less strictly than is now the case.  What was his frame of mind then? and what hopes have you of leading him to a better one?”

Arthur sat considering awhile, and then said: 

“Dalaber is one of those upon whom none can rightly reckon.  At one moment he will be adamant, at another yielding and pliable.  One day his soul will be on fire, and nothing would move him; but in another mood he would listen and weigh every argument, and might be easily persuaded.  One thing is very sure:  gentleness would prevail with him a thousand times more than harshness.  A friend might prevail where a foe would have no chance.  I will gladly visit him, and do what I can; but I would fain, if it might he accorded, see Master Garret first, and take word to Dalaber of mine own knowledge that he has promised submission.”

The dean considered awhile, and then rose to his feet.

“Come, then,” he said.  “It is not known in Oxford yet; but the cardinal has sent Garret here to me, to be kept in close ward till the day of the reconciliation, now at hand.  This is what is to take place.  The men who have been excommunicated and set in ward, but who are ready to make submission, will be brought to trial a few days hence, and will sign their recantation, as we call it, to the cardinal, in the presence of the judges, who will then order them to take part in this act of penance, after which they will be admitted once more to communion, and have liberty to resume their studies, or to return to their homes and friends, as best pleases them.  Thus we trust to purge Oxford of heresy.  But if Master Clarke remain obdurate, and others with him, I fear me there will be some other and terrible scene ere this page of her history closes.”

“Let me see Master Garret,” said Arthur abruptly.  “I would I might also see Master Clarke.  But whenever I ask this boon it is refused me.”

The dean shook his head slowly.

“No one is permitted access to him, save those who go to reason with him; and so far we reason in vain.  But I will admit you to the other prisoner for a few minutes.  You have been acquainted with him in the past?”

“Slightly.  He has never ranked as my friend, but I have known him and met him.  He is of my college, and I have been sorry that he has used his knowledge of Oxford to spread trouble there.”

Garret sprang up as Arthur entered the bare but not unwholesome room where he was confined.  He had grown very thin with the long strain of flight, imprisonment, and hardship that had been his portion of late.  He greeted Arthur eagerly, his eyes aglow, and on hearing somewhat of his errand he broke out into rapid and excited speech.

“Tell Dalaber that the time is not ripe ­that it lingers yet.  I have been warned of God in a dream.  My hour has not yet come.  There is work yet for me to do, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished!  Yes; you need not shrink from me as from a blasphemer.  I hold that every man must follow in the steps of the Lord, and drink of His cup, and be baptized with His baptism.  But He waited for His hour.  He hid Himself and fled and conveyed Himself away.  He paid tribute to kings and rulers.  He submitted Himself to earthly parents, earthly potentates.  And shall we not do likewise?  I would lay down my life in His service, and He knows it.  But something within me tells me that my work is not yet done.  And the church is yet holy, though she has in part corrupted herself.  If she will but cleanse herself from her abominations, then will we work in her and not against her.  Even the cardinal has spoken of the purifying which must be accomplished.  Yes, he has used good and godly words, and I will wait and hope and trust.  The Lord would be served by one body, of which He is the Head.  He wants one, and not many.  Let us have patience.  Let us wait.  Let us watch and pray.  And if we have to submit ourselves to painful humiliation in this life, let us fix our eyes upon the crown of glory which is laid up for us in the heavens, and which fadeth not away.”

Arthur was convinced of the truth of what Dr. Higdon had spoken, and saw that Garret’s mind was made up to do what was required of him.  The young man was glad enough that this should be the case; but he felt a certain contempt for the facile disposition of the man, who, after spending years of his life and running innumerable perils in the circulation of these books, could in a few weeks consent to become a participant in the ceremony of solemnly burning them, in acknowledgment that they were dangerous and evil in their tendencies.  Far greater was his admiration for Clarke, who, in obedience to the vows he had taken, would have no hand in distributing the forbidden volumes, yet in the hour of trial and peril refused to take part in the ceremony which would be regarded by the spectators and by the world at large as an admission that the Word of God was not for the people, and that he, as a teacher and preacher, had spoken unadvisedly with his lips in expounding the living Word to his hearers.

With his mind full of these things Arthur found his way to the prison, and was conducted to Dalaber’s cell, which was more closely guarded than at first.  The young man, who had been prostrated by fever at the first, had recovered in a measure now, but looked very gaunt and wan and haggard; and he seized Arthur’s hands, and wrung them closely in his, whilst tears of emotion stood in his eyes.

“I thought you had forgotten me, Arthur!”

“Surely you know that I would have come had I been able.  But of late neither bribes nor entreaties have availed to gain me entrance.  How has it been with you, my friend?”

“Oh, I am weary of my life ­weary of everything.  I would they would end it all as soon as may be; death is better than this death in life.  I am sick for the sight of the sun, for a breath of heaven’s pure air, for the sight of my Freda’s face.  Tell me, was it all a dream, or did she indeed come to me?”

“She came, and she would have come again, but they made your captivity closer at that time.  She grows thin and pale herself in grief and hunger for your fate, Anthony.

“But today I come to you with glad tidings of hope.  In a few days from this, if you act but wisely and reasonably, as your friends and companions are about to do, you will stand a free man, and you will see your Freda face to face, none hindering.”

He staggered back almost as though he had been struck.

“I shall be free!  I shall see Freda!  Speak, Arthur!  Of what are you dreaming?”

“I am not dreaming at all.  I come from the Dean of Cardinal College, and from Master Garret, whom he has there in ward, but who is also to be released at the same time.  I was permitted speech with him, that I might bring word to you, and that you might know in very truth what was about to happen.”

“And what is that?  Speak!” cried Anthony, who was shaking all over like an aspen.

To some temperaments hope and joy are almost more difficult to bear than the blows of adverse fortune.  Had the commissary come with news that Dalaber was to suffer death for his faith, he would not have found him so full of tremors, so breathless and shaken.

“I have come to speak,” answered Arthur kindly, as he seated himself upon the low pallet bed, and made Dalaber sit beside him.  “It is in this wise, Anthony.  When you and your comrades were taken, the heads and authorities were in great fear that all Oxford was infect and corrupt by some pestilent heresy; but having found and carefully questioned the young men of their faith, and having read your confession, and heard more truly what hath been the teaching they have heard and received, they find nothing greatly amiss, and are now as anxious to deal gently and tenderly with you all as at first they were hot to punish with severity.  Had they the power to do as they would, you might all be sent speedily to your homes; but they have to satisfy the cardinal, and, worse still, the bishop, and hence there must somewhat be done ere peace be restored, to assure him that Oxford is purged and clean.”

“And what will they do?” asked Dalaber, who was still quivering in every nerve.

“Marry, nothing so very harsh or stern,” answered Arthur, who was feeling his way carefully, trying to combine truth and policy, but erring distinctly on the side of the latter.  “But those later books which were found in your hiding place and Radley’s room, which are more dangerous and subversive than any that have gone before, are to be cast solemnly out of the place; and, in truth, I think with cause.  See, I have brought you one or two to look at, to show you how even Martin Luther contradicts himself and blasphemes.  How can the Spirit of God be in a man who will say such contrary things at different times?”

And Arthur showed to Anthony a few marked passages in certain treatises, in which the reformer, as was so often the case in his voluminous and hastily-conceived and written works, had flatly contradicted himself, to the perplexity and confusion of his followers.

“Such books are full of danger,” pursued Arthur, speaking rapidly now.  “I say nothing about the translated Scriptures; but the works of a man, and one who is full of excitement and the spirit of controversy, are like to be dangerous to the young.  Let the church read and decide, but do not you disseminate such works.  It may be more sinful than you have thought.

“And now for what will soon happen.  You did see the same in London once.  There will be a fire in Carfax, and those who have circulated and read such books will walk each with his fagot, and cast first these and then the books upon the flames.  So will the bishop be satisfied, and so will peace be restored.

“Be not proud and disobedient, Anthony, and refuse to be reconciled with the mother you have offended.  The cardinal has shown even to Master Garret the error of his ways, and he will be one to share in this act of submission and reconciliation.  He bid me tell you that the hour has not yet come for any further blow to be struck.  He, like Master Clarke, now begins to hope that, having pleaded with their mother, she will hear and cleanse herself from all defilement and impurity.  He will submit and be reconciled; and if he will do this, surely you, friend Anthony, need not stand aloof.”

Anthony was pacing the floor in hot excitement.  He recalled the scene at St. Paul’s the previous year, and his face was working with emotion.

“Am I to be called upon to burn the Word of God, as though it were an unholy thing, to be cast forth from the earth?”

“No,” answered Arthur boldly; “you will only be required to burn a few pamphlets of Martin Luther and other reformers.”

And he vowed in his heart that he would make good this word, and that, whatever other men might do, Anthony’s basket should contain nothing but those later and fiery diatribes, which were certainly not without their element of danger and error and falsehood.

“And if I refuse?”

Arthur answered with a patience and gentleness that went farther than any sort of threat could have done.

“If you refuse, friend Anthony, I fear you will find yourself in danger, and that not in a good or holy cause.  For if Master Garret and your comrades are willing to make a small sacrifice of pride, and do a small penance to satisfy the bishop, who is in some sort your lawful ruler in the church, so that peace and amity may be restored, and hatred and variance banished from our university, it were an ungracious act that you should refuse to join with them, for they have sought by patience and kindliness to restore you to your places; and surely it cannot be God’s will that you should hold back for this small scruple, and remain cut off from His church by excommunication, as must surely be if you will not be advised and humble yourself thus.”

“What would Freda bid me do?” suddenly asked Anthony, who was much agitated.

Arthur was thankful that he did not ask a question about Clarke.  The young man was doing his utmost to win his friend, and had been reared in a school where it was lawful to do evil for the sake of the good which should follow.  But he did not wish to be driven to falsehood, and it was with relief that he heard this question.

“When Freda came to see you she bid you live ­live for her sake,” he answered, without hesitation.  “Let me leave that word with you ­live for her sake.  Do not fling away your life recklessly.  She has begged that you will live.  Therefore, for love of her, if for no other reason, make this submission ­be reconciled, and live.”

Anthony’s face was working; he was greatly moved; the tears rained down his cheeks.  But at last he seized Arthur’s hands in his, and cried: 

“I will!  I will!  God forgive me if I judge amiss; but for her sake I will do it, and live.”