"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, or would you pursue them fearlessly to the end--even, if need be, unto death?"
A sudden, intense light leaped into her eyes. She put forth her hand, which she had withdrawn gently from his ardent clasp, and laid it lightly upon his shoulder.
"It is not what I would do, what I would say, Anthony. The charge is given by the Spirit of God: 'Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life.'"
He took her hand and kissed it passionately.