And as the interviews increased and lengthened, so they grew also in intimacy between the royal pair, and plans for Sebastian’s future came to be discussed. She urged him to proclaim himself. His penance had been overlong already for what was really no fault at all, since it is the heart rather than the deed that Heaven judges, and his heart had been pure, his intention in making war upon the Infidel loftily pious. Diffidently he admitted that it might be so, but both he and Frey Miguel were of opinion that it would be wiser now to await the death of Philip II., which, considering his years and infirmities, could not be long delayed. Out of jealousy for his possessions, King Philip might oppose Sebastian’s claims. Meanwhile these daily visits of Espinosa’s, and the long hours he spent in Anne’s company gave, as was inevitable, rise to scandal, within and without the convent. She was a nun professed, interdicted from seeing any man but her confessor other than through the parlour grating, and even then not at such length or with such constancy as this. The intimacy between them—fostered and furthered by Frey Miguel—had so ripened in a few weeks that Anne was justified in looking upon him as her saviour from the living tomb to which she had been condemned, in hoping that he would restore her to the life and liberty for which she had ever yearned by taking her to Queen when his time came to claim his own. What if she was a nun professed? Her profession had been against her will, preceded by only one year of novitiate, and she was still within the five probationary years prescribed. Therefore, in her view, her vows were revocable. But this was a matter beyond the general consideration or knowledge, and so the scandal grew. Within the convent there was none bold enough, considering Anne’s royal rank, to offer remonstrance or advice, particularly too, considering that her behaviour had the sanction of Frey Miguel, the convent’s spiritual adviser. But from without, from the Provincial of the Order of St. Augustine, came at last a letter to Anne, respectfully stern in tone, to inform her that the numerous visits she received from a pastry-cook were giving rise to talk, for which it would be wise to cease to give occasion. That recommendation scorched her proud, sensitive soul with shame. She sent her servant Roderos at once to fetch Frey Miguel, and placed the letter in his hands. The friar’s dark eyes scanned it and grew troubled. “It was to have been feared,” he said, and sighed. “There is but one remedy, lest worse follow and all be ruined. Don Sebastian must go.” “Go?” Fear robbed her of breath. “Go where?” “Away from Madrigal—anywhere—and at once; tomorrow at latest.” And then, seeing the look of horror in her face, “What else, what else?” he added, impatiently. “This meddlesome provincial may be stirring up trouble already.” She fought down her emotion. “I... I shall see him before he goes?” she begged.