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?”