A pair of wax candles, in tall silver candlesticks,
lighted this table, which was littered with papers, in a wild confusion
that too plainly indicated the condition of the owner's mind. The oak
floor was covered with Persian prayer rugs, old and faded, but of the
richest quality. The window curtains were dark red velvet; and through
an open doorway Mary and her husband saw a corresponding luxury in the
arrangements of the adjoining bedroom.
The whole thing seemed wild and strange as a fairy tale. The weird and
wizened old man, grinning and nodding his head at them. The handsome
room, rich with dark, subdued colour, in the dim light of four wax
candles, two on the table, two on the mantelpiece. The perfume of
stephanotis and tea-roses, blended faintly with the all-pervading odour
of latakia and Turkish attar. All was alike strange, bearing in mind
that this old man was a recipient of Lady Maulevrier's charity, a
hanger-on upon a confidential servant, who might be supposed to be
generously treated if he had the run of his teeth and the shelter of a
decent garret.
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