And it was quite clear to Don Joaquin that he had killed two birds with one stone; he saw that Sarella was both interested and impressed.
"Catholics should marry Catholics," he declared with decision.
"You didn't think so always," Sarella observed, smiling.
"If I forgot it, I suffered for it," her elderly admirer retorted.
Sarella was puzzled. She naturally had not the remotest suspicion that he had felt his wife's early death as a reprisal on the part of Heaven. She knew little of her aunt, and less of that aunt's married life. Had there been quarrels about religion?
"Well, I daresay you may be right," she said gravely. "Two religions in one house may lead to awkwardness."
"Yes. That is so," he agreed, with a completeness of conviction that considerably enlightened her.
"And after all," she went on, smiling with great sweetness, "they're only two branches of the same religion."
This was her way of hinting that the little bird he had married would have been wise to hop from her own religious twig to his.
This suggestion, however, Don Joaquin utterly repudiated.