The withdrawing-room of St. Ruth's was an apartment which, tradition
said, had formerly been the refectory of the little bevy of fair sinners
who sought a refuge within its walls from the temptations of the world.
Their number was not large, nor their entertainments very splendid, or
this limited space could not have contained them. The room, however, was
of fair dimensions, and an air of peculiar comfort, mingled with
chastened luxury, was thrown around it, by the voluminous folds of the
blue damask curtains that nearly concealed the sides where the deep
windows were placed, and by the dark leathern hangings, richly stamped
with cunning devices in gold, that ornamented the two others. Massive
couches in carved mahogany, with chairs of a similar material and
fashion, all covered by the same rich fabric that composed the curtains,
together with a Turkey carpet, over the shaggy surface of which all the
colors of the rainbow were scattered in bright confusion, united to
relieve the gloomy splendor of the enormous mantel, deep heavy cornices,
and the complicated carvings of the massive woodwork which cumbered the
walls. A brisk fire of wood was burning on the hearth, in compliment to
the willful prejudice of Miss Plowden, who had maintained, in her most
vivacious manner, that sea-coal was "only tolerable for blacksmiths and
Englishmen." In addition to the cheerful blaze from the hearth, two
waxen lights, in candlesticks of massive silver, were lending their aid
to enliven the apartment.
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