A little and farmer Plunket gave a start of relief--’twas the arrival of the lady and her maid Nancy, now no longer the saucy, for she had a kind heart, as she felt somewhat the gloomy end of the masquerade at the fair. Well, the farmer and Nancy left the lady by herself. And then, then she sang the little song she sang when he asked her to sing on that night when Lionel brought her home as his servant. She looked tremblingly about her as she sang on and on to the end of the verse, and then Lionel came slowly into the room. Ah--I have forgotten to say this farmer Lionel was an earl. The dead owner of the diamond ring had been unjustly banished; years and years before his sentence was declared unjust; years and years had people wondered where the earl tarried, and now, the diamond ring placed in the queen’s hands, was the clue to the whole mystery. I know that the coming of Lady Henrietta to the farmhouse must look interested. ’Tis a pity almost that Lionel does not remain a poor farmer; but there, the queen has the ring--his birth is recognized; and so, Martha must remain under the imputation of telling him she loved him, not for himself, but for his title. For truth to tell, she went up to him, and whispered that she loved him. But alas! he was too sunk in melancholy to feel his heart beat high at hearing those words. He turned away from her with angry pride. But as the Lady Henrietta did not feel outraged, as she still strove to find a way of leading Lionel back to his old self, perhaps these little circumstances will be set down in favor of disinterested love on her part; and if the gentlemanly reader will remember, I have said _she was very dreamy in the woods_. Well, this was the lady’s next plan: It was as old as romance. It seems if one bereft of sense is brought into a scene similar to one which gave him great happiness, the effect may be so great as to restore him to consciousness. And as the Lady Henrietta knew ’twas a happy hour for Lionel when he engaged her as a servant, she determined to have a mock statute fair, sheriff and all, in her park. I am always so eager to tell good news that I cannot stand dallying with the trumpet in my hand; and having told it, I frequently find I am at a loss what to say, in continuation, which is a disconcerting drawback. Yet nevertheless, though I could make a fine scene here by borrowing from the chronicle, I prefer at once to say that there never was such a success as this imitation statute fair--for Lionel came to his loving senses and took Martha to his very heart. And--now, I do not know what to say next! I have told all my news--I am at a standstill! What _can_ come next? Oh! of course. They were married, and lived happy ever afterwards. ’Tis just like the end of a comic opera. And stout farmer Plunket was married to Nancy. She made the best of wives, says the old chronicle with a concluding flourish. THE END.