Sally entered--two or three steps; then she stood there looking round
her. The old oak chests, carved some of them, worm-eaten here and
there; the clean, pale, straw-coloured matting, no rugs of any
description: the dark green walls and the rough, heavy brass candle
sconces that glittered against them, reflecting the candle flames
in every polished surface: it was almost barbaric, more like a
reception room of a presbytery than a living room; but a presbytery
decorated to convey the best of a strong and self-reliant mind,
rather than to pander with a taste ornate to the futile conception
of a God.
Except for two rush-seated armchairs, there was no suggestion of
providing any recognized forms of comfort. The chair at the open
bureau, with its case of books above it, had a wooden seat; all the
rest of the smaller wooden chairs were wooden-seated as well. There
was no visible and obvious sign of any desire for luxury; yet
luxurious it all seemed to Sally, every corner of it, as she gazed
around her. It was a luxury conveyed by the intrinsic value of every
article of furniture he possessed; a luxury far more lasting, far
more complete, than any to be found in down cushions and gently shaded
lights.
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