spoken so directly: never with so convincing an emotion;
and her heart thrilled for him. She could have taken his pains and died
of them with joy.

Meanwhile she was left without support. Jonathan now swore by his
lodger, and lived for him. He was a fine talker. He knew the finest
sight of stories; he was a man and a gentleman, take him for all in all,
and a perfect credit to Old England. Such were the old man's declared
sentiments, and sure enough he clung to Mr. Archer's side, hung upon his
utterance when he spoke, and watched him with unwearying interest when
he was silent. And yet his feeling was not clear; in the partial wreck
of his mind, which was leaning to decay, some afterthought was strongly
present. As he gazed in Mr. Archer's face a sudden brightness would
kindle in his rheumy eyes, his eyebrows would lift as with a sudden
thought, his mouth would open as though to speak, and close again on
silence. Once or twice he even called Mr. Archer mysteriously forth into
the dark courtyard, took him by the button, and laid a demonstrative
finger on his chest; but there his ideas or his courage failed him; he
would shufflingly excuse himself and return to his position by the fire
without a word of explanation. "The good man was growing old," said Mr.
Archer with a suspicion of a shrug. But the good man had his idea, and
even when he was alone the name of Mr. Archer fell from his lips
continually in the course of mumbled and gesticulative conversation.

CHAPTER VI

THE BAD HALF-CROWN

However early Nance arose, and she was no sluggard, the old man, who had
begun to outlive the earthly habit of slumber, would usually have been
up long before, the fire would be burning brightly, and she would see
him wandering among the ruins, lantern in hand, and talking assiduously
to himself. One day, however, after he had returned late from the market
town, she found that she had stolen a march upon that indefatigable
early riser. The kitchen was all blackness. She crossed the castle-yard
to the wood-cellar, her steps printing the thick hoarfrost. A scathing
breeze blew out of the north-east and slowly carried a regiment of black
and tattered clouds over the face of heaven, which was already kindled
with the wild light of morning, but where she walked, in shelter of the
ruins, the flame of her candle burned steady. The extreme cold smote
upon her conscience. She could not bear to think this bitter business
fell usually t