“I did.  I would do so again.  Anthony is young, hot headed, impulsive, rash.  Whatever he may grow to in the future, whatever convictions he may then hold, he is not fit yet to be a leader of men, to take up an attitude of defiance to the laws and statutes of the university—­leaving the church out of the question—­to ruin his career in an impulse which may not be a lasting one.  Let him and others have patience.  Those things which they ask they may likely obtain without such fierce struggle and such peril.  Let men bear the yoke in their youth; it does them no hurt.  To be cast forth from the communion of the church would be a greater hurt to Anthony, body and soul, than to do a penance which may do violence to some of his cherished convictions.  In this world we ofttimes have to choose, not between absolute right and wrong, but between two courses, neither of which is perfect; and then we are forced to consider which is the less imperfect of the two.  I trow that Anthony has made a wise choice; but if to you it seems not so, I pray you blame me rather than him, for I did plead with him more than once, and right earnestly, to take this way.  I did use your name also, and begged of him to live for your sake; and methinks that argument did more prevail with him than any other I could have urged.”

Freda drew her breath rather hard, but the expression of her face softened.

“You did bid him do it for my sake?  Did he think that I would have thus bidden him act?”

“I know not that, but it is like.  Remember, sweet Freda, how that, when thou didst see him in his prison, thou didst rain kisses and tears upon his face, and bid him live for thee.  How could I not remind him of that?  And wouldst thou not rather that he should live than die?”

“Oh yes, oh yes!  I cannot bear to think of that other terrible peril.  I am torn in twain by grief and perplexity.  Why do they make it so hard for men to take the perfect way?  He would be faithful unto death—­I know he would—­if he could but see his course clear.  But as it is, who can tell what is the best and most right way?  To be cut off from the Church of Christ—­it is so terrible!  Yet to tamper with conscience—­is not that terrible too?”

“They made it as easy for them as was possible,” answered Arthur gently; “let not us make it hard afterwards.  Anthony would suffer—­it is his nature—­whatever course he took.  To be excommunicate is keen pain to one of his devout nature; to do penance for what he holds to be no act of sin or heresy will pain him, likewise—­not the humiliation of the pageant alone, but the fear lest he has taken a false step and denied his Lord.  It is for us, his friends, to receive him joyfully, and restore him to peace and comfort.  Be sure that Christ would pardon him, even though he may find it hard to pardon himself.”

Freda sighed, but her face softened.  Magdalen asked a whispered question.

“And Master Clarke—­did he submit?”