Nance descended the tower stair, pausing at every step.

She was in no hurry to confront her uncle with bad news, and she must dwell a little longer on the rich note of Mr.Archer's voice, the charm of his kind words, and the beauty of his manner and person.

But, once at the stair-foot, she threw aside the spell and recovered her sensible and workaday self.
Jonathan was seated in the middle of the settle, a mug of ale beside him, in the attitude of one prepared for trouble; but he did not speak, and suffered her to fetch her supper and eat of it, with a very excellent appetite, in silence.

When she had done, she, too, drew a tankard of home-brewed, and came and planted herself in front of him upon the settle.
'Well ?' said Jonathan.
'My lord has run away,' said Nance.
'What ?' cried the old man.
'Abroad,' she continued; 'run away from creditors.

He said he had not a stiver, but he was drunk enough.