For the Faith: A Story of the Young Pioneers of Reformation in Oxford

"But he is better now-Master Clarke, I mean?" spoke Magdalen, with anxious eyes.

"Verily yes; he is well-nigh himself again, only he hath the air of one who is worn down with illness. He looks bent and white and frail-he toiled so strenuously amongst the sick; and before that he was studying almost night and day.

"But come below into the garden where he is; he will speak for himself. I would that you should see the lilies there. They will rejoice your heart."

It was a quaint old garden into which Anthony led them, full of the scent of herbs and spices, rosemary, thyme, and sweetbrier. The trim order of modern gardening was then unknown, and therefore not missed; close-shaven turf was only to be found in the bowling alleys, and lawns were not; but there was a wilderness beauty that was full of charm in such a place as this, and the sisters looked about them with eager eyes, rejoicing in the beauty before them, and inhaling the pure freshness of the air after the heavy and somewhat pestilential atmosphere in which they had lived.

Clarke was lying at ease on a bearskin against the turf wall of the bowling alley, a book beside him, which he was not then reading. His eyes lighted at sight of the sisters, and he would have risen, but that they forestalled him, and sat beside him on the soft skin, looking at him with friendly solicitude.

He would not talk of himself, but had a hundred things to tell them of the place to which they had come. He inquired how Dr. Langton had borne the journey, and hoped he might visit him later in the day; and as they talked, they were joined by their host himself. And presently he asked Magdalen to come with him and see his hives of bees, for she was somewhat of a naturalist, and was eager to study the habits and habitations of all living things.

"We are very grateful to you, fair sir," she said, "for this act of kindness and hospitality to our dear father. I doubt not that he will recover health and strength with great speed here in this sweet place. It seems an abode of peace and harmony. I never saw a house so beautiful."

"I am right glad it pleases you, sweet mistress," answered Arthur, a very slight flush mounting to his cheek; "believe me, it is the great hope of my heart that this place shall become dear to you, and that you may find happiness therein."

"I thank you, sir," she answered, slightly turning her head away; "your kindness is great, and that not to us alone, but also to others. Our beloved Master Clarke hath the appearance of a man sorely sick, and in need of long rest and refreshment. This he will obtain here as he could not elsewhere. Those who regard his life as a precious one will thank you also for that."

"Are you one of those, Mistress Magda?"

"Indeed, yes. We have known Master Clarke for some great while now, and methinks he is one of God's saints upon earth-one of those who will assuredly walk with Him in white, one of those who will be faithful and will overcome."

Her face kindled, and Arthur, looking somewhat keenly at her, noted a depth of expression in her eyes which no words of his had ever prevailed to bring there.

"He is a notable man," he answered slowly, "and one who may have a great future before him, if only he does not let it slip from him by some indiscretion at the beginning."

"How mean you?" asked Magdalen, with quickly aroused interest.

"I mean that Master Clarke has been already noticed by the cardinal. He was taken from Cambridge because of his good report as to sobriety, learning, and godliness; and the cardinal will, without doubt, keep an eye upon him, and when he has taken his degrees in divinity, will promote him to some living or benefice that will make him rich for life. But let him have a care; that is what his friends would beg of him. Let him have a care that he be not corrupted by new-fangled disputings and questionings, which will benefit no man, and which are already disturbing the peace of the realm and the unity of the church. I would have him beware of these; touch not, taste not, handle not-that is my counsel to him. And if any have influence with him to warn or counsel I would that they should turn him away from such perilous paths, for if he tread them they may lead him to trouble and ruin."

Magdalen made no direct reply, and Arthur, looking earnestly into her face, became aware of its absorbed expression, and asked:

"Does this trouble you, sweet lady? Are you, too, aware of the peril in which he and others may stand if they intermeddle too much in forbidden matters?"

"Yes, I think I know somewhat of it; but what troubles me is that these things should be forbidden. Why may not each man be free in his own soul to read the Scriptures, and to seek to draw help, and light, and comfort from them for himself?"

"Ah, dear lady, that is too big a question for my wits to grapple with. I leave these matters to men who are capable of judging. All I say is that the church holds enough for me, that I shall never learn half she has to teach, and that within her fold is safety. Outside pastures may be pleasant to the eye; but who knows what ravening wolves may not be lurking there in the disguise of harmless sheep? The devil himself can appear in the guise of an angel of light; therefore it behoves us to walk with all wariness, and to commit ourselves into the keeping of those whom God has set over us in His Holy Church."

"Up to a certain point, yes," answered Magdalen earnestly; "hut there be times when-when-Ah, I cannot find words to say all I would. But methinks that, when such pure and stainless souls as that of Master Clarke are seeking for light and life, they cannot go far astray."

Arthur hoped and trusted such was the case, and he was regular in his attendance whenever Clarke preached in the little chapel, or gave lectures in some room of the house, to which many flocked. Dalaber was never absent; all his old zeal and love kindled anew. Several of the guests in that house, including Radley and Fitzjames, often sat up far into the night reading the Scriptures in their own language, and seeming to find new meaning in the fresh rendering, which their familiarity with the original tongues enabled them rightly to estimate.

Arthur Cole did not join these readings, though he did not interfere with them. Once he said to Magdalen, with a certain intonation of anxiety in his voice:

"I cannot see what they think they benefit thereby. Surely the tongue in which the Scriptures were written must be the best to study them in-for those who have learning to do so. Translators do their best, but errors must creep in. For the ignorant and unlettered we must translate, but why for such men as our friends here?"

"But the ignorant and unlettered are forbidden to read or buy the living Word?" said Magdalen quickly.

"Yes; because they would not understand, and would breed all sorts of pestilent heresies. The Scriptures are not of private interpretation. They must be taught by those appointed to that work. I grant you willingly that much is needed in the church-men able and willing for the task; but to put the Scriptures into the hands of every clown and hind and shopman who asks for a copy-no; there I say you do more hurt than good."

"Our friends here do not that," spoke Magdalen thoughtfully.

"No; if they did they would have to go elsewhere. I could not lend my house for such a purpose. As it is-"

He stopped short, and the girl looked quickly at him.

"As it is what?" she asked.

"Ah, well, it is naught. I only meant to say that, if the cardinal were aware of all that went on, even in his own college, he might find fault with much, and make inquisition in many places that would be perilous for many. But as things are I trow all is safe, if they will be content to go no farther."

"You speak of the distribution of books to others?" asked Magdalen, who, through Dalaber, had some knowledge of the work of the Christian Brothers.

"Yes; that is a very perilous course to take, and I fear many are disposed towards it. There is a man-his name is Garret; he was once a scholar of my college-Magdalen; they say he is one of the chiefest promoters of this dangerous traffic. I hope and trust he will keep himself away from here-from Oxford. He is a dangerous man, in that he works much upon the minds and feelings of others. I trust and hope he will never appear in Oxford to carry on such work as he has done in London. He has escaped hitherto; but if he becomes more mischievous, no man may know how it will end."

"But you would not betray him!" cried Magdalen suddenly.

He looked at her in some surprise, and she coloured under his gaze. She had not meant much by her words, but she saw that he fancied a purpose in them.

"Mistress Magdalen," he asked suddenly, "what do you know of this man and his work?"

"Very little; only what Anthony Dalaber and Master Clarke have sometimes told us when these matters have been spoken of-no more than you have told me yourself."

"But you have sympathy with him and his object?"

"Perhaps I have. In sooth, I scarce know how I feel about such matters. I know there is peril. I love not disobedience, nor scorn those set over us; but yet I feel for those who desire more, and would fain drink of the water of life out of new cisterns. But what I meant was that it grieved me that any should hold such men in reprobation, or should betray them into the hands of their enemies, should they be in any peril."

"It is what we are bidden to do sometimes," spoke Arthur gravely.

"I know; but I could not do it. I should shrink from any man who could obey such a mandate as that."

He looked at her long and earnestly, then he turned and took her hands in his, and stood facing her for a while in silence.

"And what would you do for the man who should, instead of betraying, warn, such conspirators of their peril, should he know that they stood in need of warning?"

She thrilled somewhat beneath his touch. There seemed a purpose in his words. The colour rose in her face.

"I should look upon him as a friend. I should call him noble. I should put my trust in him. Our Lord has promised His blessing to the merciful. Surely He would count that an act of mercy which should save those in peril from the hands of their foes."

She spoke with great earnestness and with kindling eyes. His clasp upon her hands tightened.

"And what reward would you give to such a man?" he asked; but then, seeming, as it were, to feel shame for these words, he added hastily, "It is thus, sweet lady, with me. Mine uncle is the proctor in Oxford-proctor for the south. Through him I ofttimes glean news unknown to other students. If I should hear of any peril menacing those who hold these new opinions, for which you, I can see, have such tenderness, I will not fail to warn them of it. If I know, they shall know likewise. Will that satisfy you?"

"It will," she answered, with a glance that thrilled him to his heart's core. "I thank you from my soul."

Chapter VI: For Love and the Faith

"Yes, Anthony, I love thee, and one day I will be thy wife!"

The words seemed to set themselves to joyous music in the ears of Anthony Dalaber as he hastened homeward through the miry and darkening streets towards his lodging in St. Alban Hall. He trod on air. He regarded neither the drizzling rain overhead nor the mire and dirt of the unpaved streets.