r him," answered Arthur; "we have both come hither on
the same errand. But we do desire your Eminence's good offices for
one who was in somewhat similar case with Dalaber. We have come to
plead for the life and liberty of John Clarke, canon of your own
beauteous and godly college in Oxford, who, with two other
companions, one of them a canon and the other a singing man of that
foundation, is lying near to death in a foul prison, and will
without doubt perish miserably there, if release doth not speedily
come."

The cardinal's steel-blue eyes took a new expression, and one which
Arthur could in no wise interpret.

"Like to die!" He spoke somewhat more abruptly than had hitherto
been the case. "You are sure of that?"

"I am sure of it," answered Arthur; "and Dr. Higdon, the dean, will
tell you the same, if your Eminence will ask him of it. And though
Master Clarke lies under the imputation of heresy, I trow there is
no sounder churchman nor godly and pure-living man in all Oxford
than he, nor one whose life holds so fair a promise of shining like
a light in a dark world."

"I have heard of this man," spoke the cardinal thoughtfully; "I
have known of him many years. I had report of him or ever he was
sent to Oxford."

"It is known in all Oxford how that your Eminence did send to us
there this godly man, whom we have learned to love and revere,"
spoke Arthur eagerly; "and many a time have we blessed you that
your choice did fall upon one of so saint-like a walk in this
world. How should we, then, not plead with your Eminence for his
life, when it lies thus in jeopardy? If you would speak the word of
release we would do the rest."

The cardinal sat very still and thoughtful.

"John Clarke is not my prisoner. He belongs to the Bishop of
Lincoln."

"I know that well," cried Arthur eagerly. "But surely the word of
your Eminence would prevail with the bishop, and free him from his
bonds."

"My Lord of Lincoln is very bitter against heretics."

"Then let him take me in lieu of Master Clarke!" suddenly cried
Dalaber, stepping forward to the cardinal's table, upon which he
leaned with both his hands, and his dark eyes flashed fire. "If he
must have a victim, let me be that victim. I am tenfold more
heretic than Master Clarke. Let me take his place in the foul
dungeon; let me, if need be, go to the stake for him. If there must
be a victim, let me be that victim; but shall he die whose life has
been given for the puri