“That charge is not wholly without foundation,” answered Clarke at once, who as a scholar of the Greek language was well qualified to give an opinion on that point.  “And deeply do I grieve that such things should be, for the errors cannot all have been through accident or ignorance, but must have been inserted with a purpose; and I hold that no man is guiltless who dares to tamper with the Word of God, even though he think he may be doing God service thereby.  The Holy Spirit who inspired the sacred writers may be trusted so to direct men’s hearts and spirits that they may read aright what He has written; and it is folly and presumption to think that man may improve upon the Word of God.”

“But there are errors in all versions of the Scriptures, are there not—­in all translations from the original tongue?”

Magdalen was now the speaker, and she looked earnestly at Clarke, as though his words were words of the deepest wisdom, from which there was no appeal.

“Errors in all—­yes; but our Latin version is marvellously true to the original, and when Wycliffe translated into English he was far more correct than Tyndale has been.  But it is the Tyndale Testaments which have had so wide a sale of late in this country, and which have set London in commotion—­these and the writings of Martin Luther, which the men from the Stillyard have brought up the river in great quantities.  But be the errors never so great, I call it a shameful and a sinful thing, one that the Holy Church of olden days would never have sanctioned—­that the Word of God should be publicly burnt, as an unholy and polluted thing, in presence of the highest ecclesiastics of the land.  In truth, I hold it a crime and a sin.  I would that such a scene might even now be averted.”

“I should well like to see it!” spoke Dalaber, with that eager impetuosity which characterized his movements.  “I hate the thing myself, yet I would fain see it, too.  It would be something to remember, something to speak of in future days, when, perchance, the folly of it will be made manifest.

“Clarke, let us to London tomorrow!  Easter is nigh at hand, and your lectures have ceased for the present.  Come with me, and let us see this sight, and bring back word to our friends here how they regard this matter in London.  What do you say?”

Clarke’s face was grave and thoughtful.

“I have some thoughts of visiting London myself during the next week, but I had not thought to go to see the burning of books at Paul’s Cross.”

“But that is what I wish to see!” cried Dalaber.  “So, whether you accompany me thither or not, at least let us travel to London together, and quickly.  It will be a thing to remember in days to come; for verily I believe that the church will awaken soon, and like a giant refreshed with wine will show what is in her, and will gather her children about her as a hen gathers her chickens under her wings, and will feed them, and care for them, and be as she has been before to them, and that we shall see an end of the darkness and indifference which has fallen like a pall upon this land.”