She went to the chapel and knelt for a few minutes upon the stone floor, then she returned to her companion. “It is so lovely here that I always want to stay awhile,” she told him. “I like the way they have shelter and seats for the weary on these porches. Fasten Guido somewhere and come up on the porch. You can see the Virgin inside there. She is a very plain little person, for she is very ancient, and you can see she wears the Asturian dress. She seems such a nice, simple sort of body that I don’t wonder the peasants love her. You see,” she went on, after Robert had made his survey of the interior, “I have a great respect for the Roman Catholics, for I have lived with the sisters so long and they have told me many things. I know the stories of the saints by heart. Sometimes they used to bore me dreadfully, but after all I am glad to become acquainted with the legends of the church for they explain a great many things to you when you travel. I never dared to say how much I believed and how much I didn’t, but the dear sisters had faith enough for both. While I was at the convent I went always to chapel and am as much at home with the Roman Catholic services as with my own. Of course, here in Spain, one must be a Roman Catholic to be thoroughly respectable, but so far I have never had to discuss the question. Isn’t this a peaceful spot?” There was no disputing the peacefulness. Far removed from the highway as the little chapel was, a stranger would come upon it quite unawares in its sheltering green. A small stream went singing upon its way near by; the birds called to one another from the grove; wild flowers nodded in the breeze. The far off creak of a cow-cart droned out once in a while from a distance. “And you like it?” Robert turned to his companion. “You don’t find it wearisome, with no gayeties, no city sights? You don’t miss social entertainments?” “Do you?” “No, but I should think you would, glad lady.” “That is where you are mistaken. Of course I like good times, and young companions. I like pretty gowns and all the whirl of entertaining and being entertained, but it isn’t everything. I’d far rather live the life we used to have with those I loved in the dear old home, with the neighbors we cared for and who cared for us, a visit to town once in a while, part of a winter, maybe, and the rest of the year the freedom, the peace, the joy of the country among green growing things, flying along down the country roads on horseback, sitting in the garden to watch the sunset, grubbing among the flowers. Oh!” She drew a long breath. “It is all over, what is the use of thinking and longing for what you cannot have back again? I shall try to be content wherever I am. There is too much misery in the world for one to whine who has enough.” “That is a brave saying,” returned Robert, gravely. “The don and his palace do not loom up so largely then?” “Dear me, no.” She gave a little laugh. Robert looked at her inquiringly.