Clarke, though he believed that the more the Scriptures were read and understood by the people, the more would light pour into the church, was not one of those who was ready to conceal and distribute the forbidden books, whether words of holy Scripture or the writings of the Reformers upon them and upon controverted subjects and church abuses.  He held that his own position as a canon forbade this action on his part, and he was also of opinion that there was danger in the too great independence of thought which these writings might engender amongst the unlearned and the hot-headed of the land.  He loved to read and discourse upon holy things with men whose hearts were attuned to thoughts of devotion; but he was not one who would willingly stir up strife in the fold, and he clung earnestly to the hope that the church herself would awaken from her sleep and cleanse herself of her many impurities.

Yet he was a greater power than he guessed in Oxford, for he was regarded as somewhat of a saint by those who knew him; and of late the attention of the heads of the university had become attracted towards him.  Quite unaware of this, he pursued the even tenor of his way, seeking to inspire devotion and love of purity and truth in all with whom he came into contact, but never overstepping the written or unwritten laws of the college, save perhaps that he knew something of the spread of heretical books and doctrines without betraying his knowledge to those in authority.

So the winter weeks flew by; and Dalaber, divided between his hours of bliss and love with Freda (to whom he told everything, and whose sympathies were all astir in the cause to which he was pledged) and his perilous work with Garret, whose visits to Oxford from Abingdon and other places were made in a more or less secret fashion, scarcely heeded the flight of time.  He was taken out of himself by the excitement of the flying hours.  He knew he was doing perilous work; but he knew that Freda’s sympathy was with him, and that she regarded him as a hero in a noble cause.  That was enough to keep him steadfast and fearless, even if the magnetic personality of Garret had not been so often brought to bear upon him.  Whenever Garret was in Oxford—–­and now he was more and more often there, for he had quite a following in the place eager to hear more from him and receive fresh books—­he stayed either with Dalaber, or with Radley, the singing man; and in both their lodgings were cleverly-concealed hiding-places, where books could be stowed, that would defy all search, save that of the most stringent kind.

February had come, with its promise of hope, and springtide, and the longer daylight, so dear to the heart of students.  Garret had recently appeared once more in Oxford, and was meeting almost daily with the confraternity there.  He had brought a fresh consignment of books, some of which he lodged with Dalaber, and some with Radley, as was his wont.  There were stolen meetings held in many places, but most often at those two lodgings; and the little band seemed growing in strength daily, when a sudden tempest broke upon it, falling like a bolt from the blue.