the inner patio to the cloisters. The moon was rising and
cast a white light down upon the delicate stone-work of the cloister
windows.

Almost immediately Juanita came hurrying back and instinctively drew her
mantilla closer at the sight of his shadowy form. Then she recognised
him.

"Oh, Marcos," she whispered. "At last. I thought you had forgotten all
about me."

"Quick," he answered. "This way. We have only ten minutes."

He took her hand and hurried her back into the cloisters. He led her to
the right, to the corner of the quadrangle farthest removed from the
Cathedral where by daylight few pass, and at night none.

"What do you mean?" she asked, "Only ten minutes."

"It has all been arranged," he answered. "I met you here on purpose. You
have only ten minutes in which to settle."

"To settle what?" she asked with a laugh.

"Your whole life."

"But one cannot settle one's life in an Ave Maria," she said, which means
in the twinkling of an eye. And she looked at him by the dim light and
laughed again. For she was young and they had always made holiday
together, and laughed.

"Did you mean that letter which you wrote to my father about going into
religion?"

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose so. I meant it at the time, Marcos. It seems
to be the only thing to do. Everything seems to point to it. Every sermon
I hear. Everything I read. Everything any one ever says to me. But now--"
she turned and looked at him, "--now that I see you again I cannot think
how I did it."

"Am I so very worldly?"

"Of course you are. And yet I suppose you have some chance of salvation.
It seems to me that you have--a little chance, I give you. But it seems
hard on other people. Oh, Marcos, I hate the idea of it. And yet they are
so kind to me--all except Sor Teresa. If anybody could make me hate it,
she would. She is so unkind and gives me all the punishments she can."

Marcos smiled slowly and with great pity, of which men have a better
understanding than any woman. He thought he knew why Sor Teresa was
cruel.

"They are all so kind. And I know they are good. And they take it for
granted that the religious life is the only possible one. One cannot help
becoming convinced even against one's will."

She turned to him suddenly and laid her two hands on his arm.

"Oh, Marcos," she whispered, with a sort of sob of apprehension. "Can you
not do something for me?"

"Yes," he answered. "That is why I am here. But it must be do