He worshipped her
‘Miss Trotwood,’ rejoined Mr. Murdstone, shrugging his shoulders, as he rose, ‘if you were a gentleman -‘
‘Bah! Stuff and nonsense!’ said my aunt. ‘Don’t talk to me!’
‘How exquisitely polite!’ exclaimed Miss Murdstone, rising. ‘Overpowering, really!’
‘Do you think I don’t know,’ said my aunt, turning a deaf ear to the sister, and continuing to address the brother, and to shake her head at him with infinite expression, ‘what kind of life you must have led that poor, unhappy, misdirected baby? Do you think I don’t know what a woeful day it was for the soft little creature when you first came in her way – smirking and making great eyes at her, I’ll be bound, as if you couldn’t say boh! to a goose!’
‘I never heard anything so elegant!’ said Miss Murdstone.
‘Do you think I can’t understand you as well as if I had seen you,’ pursued my aunt, ‘now that I DO see and hear you – which, I tell you candidly, is anything but a pleasure to me? Oh yes, bless us! who so smooth and silky as Mr. Murdstone at first! The poor, benighted innocent had never seen such a man. He was made of sweetness. He worshipped her. He doted on her boy – tenderly doted on him! He was to be another father to him, and they were all to live together in a garden of roses, weren’t they? Ugh! Get along with you, do!’ said my aunt.
‘I never heard anything like this person in my life!’ exclaimed Miss Murdstone.
‘And when you had made sure of the poor little fool,’ said my aunt – ‘God forgive me that I should call her so, and she gone where YOU won’t go in a hurry – because you had not done wrong enough to her and hers, you must begin to train her, must you? begin to break her, like a poor caged bird, and wear her deluded life away, in teaching her to sing YOUR notes?’
‘This is either insanity or intoxication,’ said Miss Murdstone, in a perfect agony at not being able to turn the current of my aunt’s address towards herself; ‘and my suspicion is that it’s intoxication.’
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