Garret’s face was very set and thoughtful.

“Well, I will do it; I will try it,” he answered.  “It may be that it comes from the Lord.  I like it not altogether; but it may be I have work to do for Him there.  At least I will not tarry here, where I may be a source of peril to others.  So, with the first of the morning light, I will go forth, and get me well on my way to the south ere the hue and cry begin.”

There was no sleep that night in Anthony Dalaber’s lodging.  The news spread through the little brotherhood that Garret was in peril, that he was about to leave Oxford; and all through the night furtive visits were being paid him by those who desired his blessing, and to wish him well on his way.

As for Dalaber, he wrote his letter with a shaking hand, recommending his friend, one Edmund Thompson, as a curate to help his brother in his parish.  Yet all the while he felt a strange sinking at heart which he could not explain or account for.  And when, in the grey light of the dawn, he said adieu to his friend, and saw him vanish through the just opened gate and out into the dim murk of the frosty morning, there came over his ardent and impulsive spirit a strange sense of desolation and sinking; and when he returned to his chill and lonely rooms, the first thing he did was to fling himself upon his bed and break into tearless sobs, the revenge of an exhausted nature.

“Cui bono? cui bono?” was the voiceless cry of his heart, and at that moment it seemed as if everything were slipping away, even the faith and the love which had upheld him for so long.

Sleep surprised him as he thus lay, and he slept deeply for some hours, awaking somewhat refreshed, but full of anxious fears, both for the safety of his friend and for his own future.

It was scarcely possible, he argued, that, should Garret’s movements be inquired into by the proctors and others, he could fail to fall under suspicion, as, having been much in his company, he would be doubtless suspected, and perhaps apprehended; and a shiver of natural fear and horror ran through him at such a prospect.

What had better be his course now?  He mused of this as he got himself some food; and while he was thus musing the door opened hastily, and Fitzjames appeared, looking heated and nervous.

“Hast heard the news, Dalaber?”

“What news ?—­not that Master Garret is taken?”

“No; but that strict search is to be made for him in and about Oxford.  Is it true that he hath had warning, and is fled?  I was told so, but scarce knew what to believe.”

“I saw him forth from the gates at dawn.  I marvel they were not watched; but he was something disguised, and travelled under another name, so I trust and hope he may escape pursuit.  Is it only he for whom they are looking?”

“I have heard naught of others; but who knows where the thing may stop?  Thou hadst better have a care to thyself, friend Anthony.  It may be that peril will next menace thee.”