"Do me one more kindness. Give me till to-morrow. In the afternoon I will come to the guest-house, to bring a little bowl for Miss Kaye-Templeman. Till then, I beg that you will not say a word of this to anyone?" Waving down Mr. Crowberry's wrath with an imperious hand, he plunged under the orange trees. The Englishman took a couple of steps after him; then he shrugged his shoulders and strolled back to the house. "What do you really and truly think of Isabel?" asked young Crowberry, who had headed Antonio off among the trees. This time he meant to have his answer. The monk looked at him sadly, and passed a hand over his burning eyes. "The Senhorita and I talked very little," he replied. "So far as I know, I like her." "Is she pretty?" "Yes." "And clever?" "I think so." "She's as clever as a don. That's the trouble. All head, no heart. And as proud as Lucifer." Young Crowberry saw that Antonio could hardly endure his chatter. "Something's wrong," he said, with genuine concern in his boyish voice. "What are you down in the doleful dumps for?" At first Antonio shook his head. But the youth's frank distress touched him. The trouble was too great to be confined within one breast; so he detailed Sir Percy's plan. When he had finished he added: "But why should I worry you with all this? You are young, you are buoyant. You have been brought up amidst different religious ideas. This is a matter you cannot understand." Young Crowberry gripped the monk's fore-arm with a quick, fierce grip. As he let it drop, he retorted intensely: "Senhor da Rocha, as you say, I am young. But even I have learned one thing that you haven't. There is not always a merry heart under a cap and bells. My jabber is flippant, no doubt. But ... but God knows how much I care for the things you say I can't understand." Antonio was startled clean out of his trouble. "You don't mean to tell me, Edward," he said, "that you have begun to care about religion--to care deeply with all your heart?" The youth bowed his head. "Tell me how much you mean," Antonio demanded eagerly. But Mr. Crowberry appeared in the doorway of the house and stepped out to join them. His son saw him, and said hurriedly in Antonio's ear: "We leave on Thursday. I want a talk--a long one, a quiet one. Your man José told me a tale about a ghost in the chapel. I said I would watch there to-morrow night. I can get the key. Say that you will join me. But not a word to anybody." After a second's consideration, Antonio promised. And when a quarter of an hour later he said his farewells at the farm-gate he added softly, in young Crowberry's ear: "Till to-morrow night ... among the azulejos." V "The gentlemen are all down at the other buildings," said the English maid-servant who opened the guest-house door to Antonio. "I think they said they would be in the chapel. Miss Kaye-Templeman is in, and Mrs. Baxter."