I am happy to relate that I did not kill Buck Steele. Just how he escaped destruction I cannot say, but the morning succeeding our awful combat 'Crombie made a thorough search at the base of the peak, at my suggestion, but found nothing. In some miraculous way the smith's life was preserved, although this was contrary to my intent and purpose at the time. But now, with my golden-haired Dryad here safe in my home, I am glad. I had some trouble persuading Granny that this arrangement was best, but Gran'fer stood by me valiantly and Father John also lent his aid, so the matter was arranged peaceably. I asked the Satyr how he managed to induce the runaways to come back, and the graceless rascal informed me that he told them I had gone back home! A blessed lie, dear Satyr! I also questioned 'Crombie about the life-plant, for I had never been quite easy on the subject. "You found it and did not know it, my son," he said, his good, honest face beaming. "Do you remember my description of it? Well, the vivid green stem is the universal green of Nature's dress; the golden leaves is the healing sunlight, and the flower--the cluster of clear little globules, is the crystalline air and water of the untainted wild. I deceived you in a way, my son, for it was all symbolical, but it was for your good. Now I think I was hasty in my diagnosis, and that nothing was wrong with you. Do you forgive me?" He smiled upon me almost in a pathetic way. "It was the best thing that could have happened to me!" I replied, thinking that by it I had gained Celeste. Now it comes to me that I have told my story and have never told my name. Which goes to show that a name amounts to very little. But there may be some curious readers who would be glad to know it, and for such I do not mind declaring it. It is Nicholas Jard. THE END