When the visit to Garret came to an end, and Anthony Dalaber said farewell to him at the water side, where a barge was to convey them some distance up the river, the priest held his hands long and earnestly, looking into his eyes with affectionate intensity, and at the last he kissed him upon both cheeks and said:  “God be with thee, my young brother!  May He keep thee firm and steadfast to the last, whatever may befall!”

“I am very sure He will,” answered Dalaber fervently.  “I am yours, and for the good cause, for life or death.”

They parted then, and the voyage began; but little was spoken by the travellers so long as they remained in the barge.  Clarke seemed to be thinking deeply, his eyes fixed earnestly upon Dalaber’s face from time to time; whilst the latter sat gazing behind him at the city, sinking slowly away out of his sight, his eyes filled with the light of a great and zealous purpose.

They left the water side in the afternoon, and walked towards a certain village, and Clarke, turning towards his companion, said: 

“I have promised to preach this evening in a certain house yonder.  I trow there will be no peril to me or to those who hear me.  But of that no man can be certain.  What wilt thou do?  Come with me, or walk onwards and let us meet on the morrow?”

Dalaber hesitated no single moment; Clarke’s preaching was one of his keenest delights.  And upon this evening he was moved beyond his wont as the young master spoke from his heart to his listeners, not striving to arouse their passions against tyranny or bigotry, but rather seeking to urge them to patience, to that brotherly love which endures all things and hopes all things, and turns to the Almighty Father in never-ceasing faith and joy, imploring His help to open the eyes of the blind, soften the hearts that are puffed up, and cleanse the church, which must be made pure and holy as the bride of Christ, for that heavenly marriage supper for which her spouse is waiting.

Nothing was spoken which the orthodox could well complain of; yet every listener knew that such a discourse would not have been preached by any man not “tainted” with what was then called heresy.  But the hearts of the hearers burnt within them as they listened; and when, after some further time spent in discussion and prayer, the preacher and his companion found themselves alone for the night in a comfortable bed chamber, Dalaber threw himself upon Clarke’s neck in an outburst of fervid enthusiasm.

“Oh, let me be ever your son and scholar,” he cried, “for with you are the words of life and light!”

Then the elder man looked at him with a great tenderness in his eyes, but his voice was full of gravity and warning.

“Dalaber,” he said, “you desire you know not what.  And I fear sometimes that you seek to take upon yourself more than you wot of—­more than you are able.  My preaching is sweet unto you now, for that no persecution is laid upon you.  But the time will come—­of that I am well assured, and that period peradventure shortly—­when, if ye continue to live godly therein, God will lay upon you the cross of persecution, to try whether you, as pure gold, can abide the fire.”