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."