“Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance intodarkness.”
PSALM lxxxviii. 18
Robert Bunting and Ellen his wife sat before their dully burning,carefully-banked-up fire.
The room, especially when it be known that it was part of a house standing in agrimy, if not exactly sordid, London thoroughfare, was exceptionally clean andwell-cared-for. A casual stranger, more particularly one of a Superior class totheir own, on suddenly opening the door of that sitting-room; would havethought that Mr. and Mrs. Bunting presented a very pleasant cosy picture ofcomfortable married life. Bunting, who was leaning back in a deep leatherarm-chair, was clean-shaven and dapper, still in appearance what he had beenfor many years of his life—a self-respecting man-servant.
On his wife, now sitting up in an uncomfortable straight-backed chair, themarks of past servitude were less apparent; but they were there all thesame—in her neat black stuff dress, and in her scrupulously clean, plaincollar and cuffs. Mrs. Bunting, as a single woman, had been what is known as auseful maid.
But peculiarly true of average English life is the time-worn English proverb asto appearances being deceitful. Mr. and Mrs. Bunting were sitting in a verynice room and in their time—how long ago it now seemed!—bothhusband and wife had been proud of their carefully chosen belongings.Everything in the room was strong and substantial, and each article offurniture had b