Freda, her hands full of golden king cups, the sunshine of the
morning lighting her fair face and deep, dark eyes, turned at the
sound of the voice beside her, and met the burning glance of
Anthony Dalaber.

"You go to see the burning of the books!" she said, speaking under
her breath. "O Anthony, how canst thou?--the Word of God!"

"Better they should burn the insentient books than the men who
preach the living Word!" spoke Anthony, suddenly putting out his
hands and clasping hers. "Freda, there have been men burnt alive
before this for speaking such words as we in Oxford whisper amongst
ourselves. If such a fate should befall some of us here--should
befall me--wouldst thou grieve for me?"

Her eyes dilated as she gazed at him.

"What are you saying?" she asked slowly. "Is there peril in this
journey? Is there peril menacing you here in Oxford?"

"There is ever peril where men dare to think for themselves and to
read forbidden books."

"Master Clarke says they are not forbidden of God or of His Holy
Church."

"That may be so; but they are forbidden by men who speak in the
name and power of the church," answered Anthony, "and with them
lies the issue of life and death for so many. Freda, what would you
do in my place? Would you forsake these paths which lead to peril,