"And whilst you were arming," cried the incorrigible Alexis, convulsed with laughter, "the Great Unknown ran off with your bride. Well, you may rely he will not take her far. He is in too great haste to escape, to encumber himself with baggage. And you will be spared a journey, for my uncle no longer opposes your marriage." At that moment the garden door opened, and Emily stood before them. No sooner had the romantic damsel sent her knight to arm himself, than she remembered an indispensable condition of an elopement, which she had forgotten to observe, and hurried back to her apartment, to leave upon her table a line addressed to her father, deprecating his wrath, and pleading the irresistible force of love. A few words from Alexis gave her and Elben the joyful assurance that no obstacle now barred their union. On re-entering the inn, Alexis encountered a French equerry of Prince Hector of Rauchpfeifenheim, who at once recognised him as his sovereign's newly appointed architect. "Ah! _Monsieur l'Architecte_," he exclaimed, "how delighted I am to meet with a sane man. The people here are stark mad, and persist in knowing nothing of Scott, the engineer. I know very well he is here. Tell the drunken dog that the prince forgives him. I have ordered his baggage to be sent hither, and here is money for his expenses. The prince never seriously intended to visit upon him the fault of his bad machinery." Alexis undertook to transmit Prince Hector's bounty and pardon, and was enabled to take his uncle the joyful intelligence that the bloodthirsty French general had departed in peace. * * * * * Elben and Emily were married. Alexis forwarded the property of the Great Unknown, and soon afterwards left Miffelstein. Wirtig wondered to hear nothing more of his illustrious visitor and benefactor, when one day a letter reached him, bearing the London postmark, and scrawled in execrable German. Its contents were as follows:-- "Dear Sir,--Once more back in Old England, which I ought never to have left, I remit you the enclosed note in discharge of my reckoning. Before this, you will doubtless have discovered who your Great Unknown really was, and that his business is with pistons and paddlewheels, not with novels and romances. My best regards to that merry fellow Alexis, and to your sentimental little daughter. And you, my comical old friend, have my best wishes for your welfare and prosperity.--WILLIAM SCOTT." When Wirtig had read this epistle, he remained for some time plunged in thought. From that day forward he left off novel-reading, and attended to his business; called Caleb Tobias; eschewed bagpiping and Scottish cookery; consigned plaid-curtains, oaken sideboards, and portraits of the Great Unknown to the lumber-room. And before the new year arrived, the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine had disappeared from the door, and the thirsty wayfarer might once more drink his glass by the light of the jolly old Star.