"And these diamonds!" urged _Nancy_, holding up a necklace for her mistress to view.

"They hurt my eyes," said her ladyship petulantly.

The simple fact is the _Lady Harriet_, like many others whose pleasures come so easily that they lack zest, was bored. Even the resourceful _Nancy_, a prize among maids, was at last driven to exclaim:

"If your ladyship only would fall in love!"

But herein, too, _Lady Harriet_ had the surfeit that creates indifference. She had bewitched every man at court only to remain unmoved by their protestations of pa.s.sion. Even as _Nancy_ spoke, a footman announced the most persistent of her ladyship's suitors, _Sir Tristan of Mikleford_, an elderly cousin who presumed upon his relationship to ignore the rebuffs with which she met his suit. _Sir Tristan_ was a creature of court etiquette. His walk, his gesture, almost his speech itself were reduced to rule and method. The stiffness that came with age made his exaggerated manner the more ridiculous. In fact he was the incarnation of everything that the _Lady Harriet_ was beginning to find intolerably tedious.

"Most respected cousin, Lady in Waiting to Her Most Gracious Majesty,"

he began sententiously, and would have added all her t.i.tles had she not cut him short with an impatient gesture, "will your ladyship seek diversion by viewing the donkey races with me today?"

"I wonder," _Nancy_ whispered so that none but her mistress could hear, "if he is going to run in the races himself?" which evoked from the _Lady Harriet_ the first smile that had played around her lips that day. Seeing this and attributing it to her pleasure at his invitation _Sir Tristan_ sighed like a wheezy bellows and cast sentimental glances at her with his watery eyes. To stop this ridiculous exhibition of vanity her ladyship straightway sent him trotting about the room on various petty pretexts. "Fetch my fan, Sir!--Now my smelling salts--I feel a draught. Would you close the window, cousin? Ah, I stifle for want of air! Open it again!"

To these commands _Sir Tristan_ responded with as much alacrity as his stiff joints would permit, until _Nancy_ again whispered to her mistress, "See! He is running for the prize!"

Likely enough _Sir Tristan's_ fair cousin soon would have sent him on some errand that would have taken him out of her presence. But when he opened the window again, in came the strains of a merry chorus sung by fresh, happy voices of young women who, evidently, were walking along the highway. The _Lady Harriet's_ curiosity was piqued. Who were these women over whose lives ennui never seemed to have hung like a pall?

_Nancy_ knew all about them. They were servants on the way to the Richmond fair to hire themselves out to the farmers, according to time-honoured custom.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by White

Ober and De Luca; Caruso and Hempel in "Martha"]

The Richmond fair! To her ladyship's jaded senses it conveyed a suggestion of something new and frolicsome. "Nancy," she cried, carried away with the novelty of the idea, "let us go to the fair dressed as peasant girls and mingle with the crowd! Who knows, someone might want to hire us! I will call myself Martha, you can be Julia, and you, cousin, can drop your t.i.tle for the nonce and go along with us as plain Bob!" And when _Sir Tristan_, shocked at the thought that a t.i.tled lady should be willing so to lower herself, to say nothing of the part he himself was asked to play, protested, she appealed to him with a feigned tenderness that soon won his consent to join them in their lark. Then to give him a foretaste of what was expected of him, they took him, each by an arm, and danced him about the room, shouting with mock admiration as he half slid, half stumbled, "Bravo! What grace! What agility!"

The _Lady Harriet_ actually was enjoying herself.

Scene 2. Meanwhile the Richmond fair was at its height. From a large parchment the pompous _Sheriff_ had read the law by which all contracts for service made at the fair were binding for at least one year as soon as money had pa.s.sed. Among those who had come to bid were a st.u.r.dy young farmer, _Plunkett_, and his foster-brother _Lionel_.

The latter evidently was of a gentler birth, but his parentage was shrouded in mystery. As a child he had been left with _Plunkett's_ mother by a fugitive, an aged man who, dying from exposure and exhaustion, had confided the boy to her care, first, however, handing her a ring with the injunction that if misfortune ever threatened the boy, to show the ring to the queen.

One after another the girls proclaimed their deftness at cooking, sewing, gardening, poultry tending, and other domestic and rural accomplishments, the _Sheriff_ crying out, "Four guineas! Who'll have her?--Five guineas! Who'll try her?" Many of them cast eyes at the two handsome young farmers, hoping to be engaged by them. But they seemed more critical than the rest.

Just then they heard a young woman's voice behind them call out, "No, I won't go with you!" and, turning, they saw two sprightly young women arguing with a testy looking old man who seemed to have a ridiculous idea of his own importance. _Lionel_ and _Plunkett_ nudged each other.

Never had they seen such attractive looking girls. And when they heard one of them call out again to the old man, "No, we won't go with you!"--for _Sir Tristan_ was urging the _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_ to leave the fair--the young men hurried over to the group.

"Can't you hear her say she won't go with you?" asked _Lionel_, while _Plunkett_ called out to the girls near the _Sheriff's_ stand, "Here, girls, is a bidder with lots of money!" A moment later the absurd old man was the centre of a rioting, shouting crowd of girls, who followed him when he tried to retreat, so that finally "Martha" and "Julia"

were left quite alone with the two men. The young women were in high spirits. They had sallied forth in quest of adventure and here it was.

_Lionel_ and _Plunkett_, on the other hand, suddenly had become very shy. There was in the demeanour of these girls something quite different from what they had been accustomed to in other serving maids. Somehow they had an "air," and it made the young men bashful.

_Plunkett_ tried to push _Lionel_ forward, but the latter hung back.

"Watch me then," said _Plunkett_. He advanced as if to speak to the young women, but came to a halt and stood there covered with confusion. It chanced that _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_ had been watching these men with quite as much interest as they had been watched by them. _Lionel_, who bore himself with innate grace and refinement under his peasant garb, had immediately attracted "Martha,"

while the st.u.r.dier _Plunkett_ had caught "Julia's" eye, and they were glad when, after a few slyly rea.s.suring glances from them, _Plunkett_ overcame his hesitancy and spoke up:

"You're our choice, girls! We'll pay fifty crowns a year for wages, with half a pint of ale on Sundays and plum pudding on New Year's thrown in for extras."

"Done!" cried the girls, who thought it all a great lark, and a moment later the _Lady Harriet_ had placed her hand in _Lionel's_ and _Nancy_ hers in _Plunkett's_ and money had pa.s.sed to bind the bargain.

And now, thinking the adventure had gone far enough and that it was time for them to be returning to court, they cast about them for _Sir Tristan_. He, seeing them talking on apparently intimate terms with two farmers, was scandalized and, having succeeded in standing off the crowd by scattering money about him, he called out brusquely, "Come away!"

"Come away?" repeated _Plunkett_ after him. "_Come away?_ Didn't these girls let you know plainly enough a short time ago that they wouldn't hire out to you?"

"But I rather think," interposed "Martha," who was becoming slightly alarmed, "that it is time for 'Julia' and myself to go."

"What's that!" exclaimed _Plunkett_. "_Go?_ No, indeed," he added with emphasis. "You may repent of your bargain, though I don't see why. But it is binding for a year."

"If only you knew who," began _Sir Tristan_, and he was about to tell who the young women were. But "Martha" quickly whispered to him not to disclose their ident.i.ty, as the escapade, if it became known, would make them the sport of the court. Moreover _Plunkett_ and _Lionel_ were growing impatient at the delay and, when the crowd again gathered about _Sir Tristan_, they hurried off the girls,--who did not seem to protest as much as might have been expected,--lifted them into a farm wagon, and drove off, while the crowd blocked the bl.u.s.tering knight and jeered as he vainly tried to break away in pursuit.

Act II. The adventure of the _Lady Harriet_ and her maid _Nancy_, so lightly entered upon, was carrying them further than they had expected. To find themselves set down in a humble farmhouse, as they did soon after they left the fair, and to be told to go into the kitchen and prepare supper, was more than they had bargained for.

"Kitchen work!" exclaimed the _Lady Harriet_ contemptuously.

"Kitchen work!" echoed _Nancy_ in the same tone of voice.

_Plunkett_ was for having his orders carried out. But _Lionel_ interceded. A certain innate gallantry that already had appealed to her ladyship, made him feel that although these young women were servants, they were, somehow, to be treated differently. He suggested as a subst.i.tute for the kitchen that they be allowed to try their hands at the spinning wheels. But they were so awkward at these that the men sat down to show them how to spin, until _Nancy_ brought the lesson to an abrupt close by saucily overturning _Plunkett's_ wheel and dashing away with the young farmer in pursuit, leaving _Lionel_ and "Martha" alone.

It was an awkward moment for her ladyship, since she could hardly fail to be aware that _Lionel_ was regarding her with undisguised admiration. To relieve the situation she began to hum and, finally, to sing, choosing her favorite air, "The Last Rose of Summer." But it had the very opposite effect of what she had planned. For she sang the charming melody so sweetly and with such tender expression that Lionel, completely carried away, exclaimed: "Ah, Martha, if you were to marry me, you no longer would be a servant, for I would raise you to my own station!"

As _Lionel_ stood there she could not help noting that he was handsome and graceful. Yet that a farmer should suggest to her, the spoiled darling of the court, that he would raise her to _his_ station, struck her as so ridiculous that she burst out laughing. Just then, fortunately, _Plunkett_ dragged in _Nancy_, whom he had pursued into the kitchen, where she had upset things generally before he had been able to seize her; and a distant tower clock striking midnight, the young farmers allowed their servants, whose accomplishments as such, if they had any, so far remained undiscovered, to retire to their room, while they sought theirs, but not before _Lionel_ had whispered:

"Perchance by the morrow, Martha, you will think differently of what I have said and not treat it so lightly."

Act III. But when morning came the birds had flown the cage. There was neither a Martha nor a Julia in the little farmhouse, while at the court of Queen Anne a certain _Lady Harriet_ and her maid _Nancy_ were congratulating themselves that, after all, an old fop named _Sir Tristan of Mikleford_ had had sense enough to be in waiting with a carriage near the farmhouse at midnight and helped them escape through the window. It even is not unlikely that within a week the _Lady Harriet_, who was so anxious not to have her escapade become known, might have been relating it at court as a merry adventure and that _Nancy_ might have been doing the same in the servants' hall. But unbeknown to the others, there had been a fifth person in the little farmhouse, none other than Dan Cupid, who had hidden himself, perhaps behind the clock, and from this vantage place of concealment had discharged arrows, not at random, but straight at the hearts of two young women and two young men. And they had not recovered from their wounds. The _Lady Harriet_ no longer was bored; she was sad; and even _Nancy_ had lost her sprightliness. The two men, one of them so courteous despite his peasant garb, the other st.u.r.dy and commanding, with whom their adventure had begun at the Richmond fair and ended after midnight at the farmhouse, had brought some zest into their lives; they were so different from the smooth, insincere courtiers by whom the _Lady Harriet_ had been surrounded and from the men servants who aped their masters and with whom _Nancy_ had been thrown when she was not with her ladyship. The simple fact is that the _Lady Harriet_ and _Nancy_, without being certain of it themselves, were in love, her ladyship with _Lionel_ and _Nancy_ with _Plunkett_. Of course, there was the difference in station between _Lady Harriet_ and _Lionel_. But he had the touch of innate breeding that made her at times forget that he was a peasant while she was a lady of t.i.tle. As for _Nancy_ and _Plunkett_, that lively young woman felt that she needed just such a strong hand as his to keep her out of mischief. And so it happened that the diversions of the court again palled upon them and that, when a great hunt was organized in which the court ladies were asked to join, the _Lady Harriet_, although she looked most dapper in her hunting costume, found the sport without zest and soon wandered off into the forest solitudes.

Here, too, it chanced that _Lionel_, in much the same state of mind and heart as her ladyship, was wandering, when, suddenly looking up, he saw a young huntress in whom, in spite of her different costume, he recognized the "Martha" over whose disappearance he had been grieving.

But she was torn by conflicting feelings. However her heart might go out toward _Lionel_, her pride of birth still rebelled against permitting a peasant to address words of love to her. "You are mistaken. I do not know you!" she exclaimed. And when he first appealed to her in pa.s.sionate accents and then in anger began to upbraid her for denying her ident.i.ty to him who was by law her master, she cried out for help, bringing not only _Sir Tristan_ but the entire hunting train to her side. Noting the deference with which she was treated and hearing her called "My Lady," _Lionel_ now perceived the trick that had been played upon himself and _Plunkett_ at the fair.

Infuriated at the heartless deceit of which he was a victim, he protested: "But if she accepted earnest money from me, if she bound herself to serve me for a year----"

He was interrupted by a shout of laughter from the bystanders, and the _Lady Harriet_, quickly profiting by the incredulity with which his words were received, exclaimed:

"I never have laid eyes on him before. He is a madman and should be apprehended!"

Immediately _Lionel_ was surrounded and might have been roughly handled, had not my lady herself, moved partly by pity, partly by a deeper feeling that kept a.s.serting itself in spite of all, begged that he be kindly treated.

Act IV. Before very long, however, there was a material change in the situation. In his extremity, _Lionel_ remembered about his ring and he asked _Plunkett_ to show it to the queen and plead his cause. The ring proved to have been the property of the Earl of Derby. It was that n.o.bleman who, after the failure of a plot to recall James II. from France and restore him to the throne, had died a fugitive and confided his son to the care of _Plunkett's_ mother, and that son was none other than _Lionel_, now discovered to be the rightful heir to the t.i.tle and estates. Naturally he was received with high favor at the court of Anne, the daughter of the king to whom the old earl had rendered such faithful service.

Despite his new honours, however, _Lionel_ was miserably unhappy. He was deeply in love with the _Lady Harriet_. Yet he hardly could bring himself to speak to her, let alone appear so much as even to notice the advances which she, in her contrition, so plainly made toward him.

So, while she too suffered, he went about lonely and desolate, eating out his heart with love and the feeling of injured pride that prevented him from acknowledging it.

This sad state of affairs might have continued indefinitely had not _Nancy's_ nimble wit come to the rescue. She and _Plunkett_, after meeting again, had been quick in coming to an understanding, and now the first thing they did was to plan how to bring together _Lionel_ and the _Lady Harriet_, who were so plainly in love with each other.

One afternoon _Plunkett_ joined _Lionel_ in his lonely walk and, unknown to him, gradually guided him into her ladyship's garden. A sudden turn in the path brought them in view of a bustling scene.

There were booths as at the Richmond fair, a crowd of servants and farmers and a sheriff calling out the accomplishments of the girls. As the crowd saw the two men, there was a hush. Then above it _Lionel_ heard a sweet, familiar voice singing:

'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem; Since the lonely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them, Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed-- Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.

The others quickly vanished. "Martha!" cried _Lionel_. "Martha! Is it really you?" She stood before him in her servant's garb, no longer, however, smiling and coquettish as at Richmond, but with eyes cast down and sad.

And then as if answering to a would-be master's question of "What can you do?" she said: "I can forget all my dreams of wealth and gold. I can despise all the dross in which artifice and ign.o.ble ambition mask themselves. I can put all these aside and remember only those accents of love and tenderness that I would have fall upon my hearing once more." She raised her eyes pleadingly to _Lionel_. All that had intervened was swept away. _Lionel_ saw only the girl he loved. And, a moment later, he held his "Martha" in his arms.