It seemed as if the idea that had so long hovered before him had now taken a more solid shape, and, while it still attracted, somewhat alarmed his imagination.
At this rate, conversation languished into a silence which was only broken by the gentle and ghostly noises of the rain on the stone roof and about all that field of ruins; and they were all relieved when the note of a man whistling and the sound of approaching footsteps in the grassy court announced a visitor.

It was the ostler from the 'Green Dragon' bringing a letter for Mr.Archer.

Nance saw her hero's face contract and then relax again at sight of it; and she thought that she knew why, for the sprawling, gross black characters of the address were easily distinguishable from the fine writing on the former letter that had so much disturbed him.

He opened it and began to read; while the ostler sat down to table with a pot of ale, and proceeded to make himself agreeable after his fashion.
'Fine doings down our way, Miss Nance,' said he.

'I haven't been abed this blessed night.' Nance expressed a polite interest, but her eye was on Mr.Archer, who was reading his letter with a face of such extreme indifference that she was tempted to suspect him of assumption.
'Yes,' continued the ostler, 'not been the like of it this fifteen years: the North Mail stopped at the three stones.' Jonathan's cup was at his lip, but at this moment he choked with a great splutter; and Mr.Archer, as if startled by the noise, made so sudden a movement that one corner of the sheet tore off and stayed between his finger and thumb.