aguy
issue in the bank below; he thought a spring was mining it; it might be
to-morrow, it might be next day; but they were all sure of a come-down
sooner or later. "And that is a poor death," said he, "for any one, let
alone a gentleman, to have a whole old ruin dumped upon his belly. Have
a care to your left there; these cellar vaults have all broke down, and
the grass and hemlock hide 'em. Well, sir, here is welcome to you, such
as it is, and wishing you well away."

And with that Jonathan ushered his guest through the tower door, and
down three steps on the left hand into the kitchen or common room of the
castle. It was a huge, low room, as large as a meadow, occupying the
whole width of the habitable wing, with six barred windows looking on
the court, and two into the river valley. A dresser, a table, and a few
chairs stood dotted here and there upon the uneven flags. Under the
great chimney a good fire burned in an iron fire-basket; a high old
settee, rudely carved with figures and Gothic lettering, flanked it on
either side; there was a hinge table and a stone bench in the chimney
corner, and above the arch hung guns, axes, lanterns, and great sheaves
of rusty keys.

Jonathan looked about him, holding up the lantern, and shrugged his
shoulders, with a pitying grimace. "Here it is," he said. "See the damp
on the floor, look at the moss; where there's moss you may be sure that
it's rheumaticky. Try and get near that fire for to warm yourself; it'll
blow the coat off your back. And with a young gentleman with a face like
yours, as pale as a tallow-candle, I'd be afeard of a churchyard cough
and a galloping decline," says Jonathan, naming the maladies with gloomy
gusto, "or the cold might strike and turn your blood," he added.

Mr. Archer fairly laughed. "My good Mr. Holdaway," said he, "I was born
with that same tallow-candle face, and the only fear that you inspire me
with is the fear that I intrude unwelcomely upon your private hours. But
I think I can promise you that I am very little troublesome, and I am
inclined to hope that the terms which I can offer may still pay you the
derangement."

"Yes, the terms," said Jonathan, "I was thinking of that. As you say,
they are very small," and he shook his head.

"Unhappily, I can afford no more," said Mr. Archer. "But this we have
arranged already," he added with a certain stiffness; "and as I am aware
that Miss Holdaway has matter to communicate, I will, if you pe