“Yes, I must go,” he said, in answer to their words.  “I am no longer safe here, and for the sake of the cause I must needs hide myself awhile.  And yet I sometimes think it might come as well soon as late, if come it must.  And surely that will be the end.  I have felt it for long.”

“What end?” asked Dalaber, with a little shudder.

“Martyrdom,” answered Garret, a quick flash in his eye, which the light, just kindled, seemed to reflect back.  “I shall die for the faith at last.  I know it, I feel it.  And there be moments when I could wish that that day had come, and that I might take the crown which is promised to those who are faithful to the death.  Yet something tells me again that this day has not yet come, that the Lord has other work for me to do.  Therefore I will fly, and that speedily.  Yet whither shall I go?  There are many places closed to me already, and I shall be searched for far and wide.”

Anthony stood hesitating, his hand upon a piece of paper; and then, as if making up his mind, he spoke eagerly and rapidly.

“Master Garret, I have here a letter written to me by my brother, who is priest of a parish in Dorsetshire; Stalbridge is the name of the place.  But a week since, a clerk coming hither from those parts brought to me a letter from him, which I have here in mine hand; and as you will see, he earnestly begs me to find for him here in Oxford a suitable man to act as his curate.  Now, if you were to change your name and go to him with a letter from me, no doubt he would incontinently receive you into his house and give you good welcome; and there you could lie hid and unsuspected till the tide of pursuit was over, after which you could make excuse to leave him again, and go back to where you will.”

Garret seemed to be turning the matter over in his mind, whilst the other two students appeared to think this just the opportunity desired, and eagerly bade Dalaber commence the letter of introduction, whilst they offered to pack up some clothes and provision for the traveller.

“What manner of man is this brother of thine, Anthony?” asked Garret.  “Doth he belong to us of the brethren?”

A slight flush rose to Dalaber’s cheek, which else was unwontedly pale.

“Alas, no!  He has no knowledge of those things which we prize.  There is the trouble.  He is a rank Papist.  But yet he has a kind heart, and there would surely be no need to speak of such matters with him.  You would have your duties to do, as in London, in church and parish.  It may be that the Lord would send you thither to sow fresh seed by the wayside.”

“If I thought that—­” began Garret, with kindling eyes.

“And wherefore not?” questioned the other two eagerly; “it may even be the Lord’s way of spreading the truth.  Nay, Master Garret, do not hesitate or tarry.  The danger is too sore and pressing, and this is, as it were, an open door of escape.  Let us garb you something differently, give you a new name, which Anthony will write in his letter; the letter you will bear upon your person; and then, when you are once beyond the reach of pursuit, you can travel easily and pleasantly, sure that you will be believed, by token of the missive you bear to Master Dalaber of Stalbridge.”