“I have no hesitation in saying,” said Mr. Chillip, fortifying himself with another sip of negus, “between you and me, sir, that her mother died of it⁠—or that tyranny, gloom, and worry have made Mrs. Murdstone nearly imbecile. She was a lively young woman, sir, before marriage, and their gloom and austerity destroyed her. They go about with her, now, more like her keepers than her husband and sister-in-law. That was Mrs. Chillip’s remark to me, only last week. And I assure you, sir, the ladies are great observers. Mrs. Chillip herself is a great observer!”

“Does he gloomily profess to be (I am ashamed to use the word in such association) religious still?” I inquired.