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'riK EDITH ami LORNE PIERCE COLLECTION 0/ CANADIANA ^ecns University at Kingston I TOM MOORE Hirt's a htaltb to thtt, Tom Moorif _ Bykoii ' niL LKSIKII) lOKA 1 V11.H> TO MATJiKIALIi;!:.. TOM MOOREl -*» Lnhi.toric.I Romance, Founded "> Certain Happening. /, ,A, Life 'J Jreland-s Create., Poet By THE^ DORE BURT SAYRE yljaicrcj TwoSuMM., G,»,. ..„ ," _Thb So., or C»RtByci<. £,, LP rV? I^OZl r\r,'^-ru ) ]Oi,-t Copyright, Tgo2 By Frederick A. Stokes CoMPANt ANDREW MACK mtb the author's grateful acknowledgment and appreciation of the convincing art and rare personal charm of the actor who has done much to make *• Tom Moore" a success upon the stage 'LA \ DHH Preface IN th-s book the author has endeavored to give to the reading: public an intimate presentation of one of the more famous of the literary giants who made the beginning of the last century the mo the r' Tf 'S/'' ^"^^'■^^ "^ E"^"^h Letters since the days of the Elizabethan authors. Of Tom Moore's rank and attainments as a poet of the finest gifts very little need be said. PosterL has P aced the seal of everlasting approval upon the best o h.s work and m the main is admirably ignorant of his few ess worthy productions. So it need not be feared that the memory of the author of " Ulla Rookh/' " The ' S; M . .T.t*" '"^ ^°"^^'"^ °^ ^" J°ve songs. Beheve Me, if All Those Endearing Young Charm?" will ever be less brightly preserved, fess tendeHy t "a;. :::s^d;:t;::^^^-^"^^— ^— nt^:^ "Moore has a peculiarity of talent, or rather talents -poetry, mus,c, voice, all his own; and an expression L ' ''''"%'rr --' "- -V/ te, possessed by another . . . There ts nothing Moore may not do, if his Irish Melodies are worth all the epics that exer u>ere composed:' wrote the hapless Lord Byron who s.s;\-::;^^^^^^^^^^^^-— intLat;:;d ▼111 PREFACE " The poet of all circles and the idol of his own." No other wore'' could so fitly describe the posi- tion of Moore in the esteein of the public. His ballads are sung by peer and peasant, in drawing-room and below stairs, and long ago the world at large began to rival the affection and admiration with which the life work and memory of the sweetest singer of them all has been cherished by the little green island which so proudly proclaims itself as the birthplace of this, its favorite son. But of the brilliant poet's early struggles, failures, successes and ambitions little is known. From his own writings and those of Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, Leigh Hunt and Captain Trelawney, it has been gleaned that there never was a more faithful friend, a more patient or devoted lover, a truer husband and fonder father than Thomas Moore. His married life was as sweet and tender as one of his own poems. Much is known of the happy years that followed his wedding, but till now no at- tempt has been made to picture the days of love and doubt that preceded the union which was destined to prove so splendid an example of true connubial content. In regard to historical accuracy, it is admitted that a certain amount of license has been used. For the sake of gaining continuity, events spread over a si)ace of years have been brought within the compass of months, but aside from this concentration of action, if it may be so described, the happenings are in the main not incorrect. While ic is true that Moore was never actually ejected from society by the Prince of Wales, he did forfeit for a time the favor of that royal gentleman until the authorship of certain offensive verses was PREFACE iX generously acknowledged by Lord Byron. The inci- dent wherein Moore sel'.s his life-work to McDermot is pure fiction, but in tiuth he did succeec in obtaining from Longmans an advance of £3,000 for " Lalla Rookh " before it was even planned, an event which in this chronicle is supposed to occur subsequent to his rescue from McDermot by Lord Brooking. Since the advance rea'ly obtained was three times the cimoant he is made to demand of the Scotch publisher the pos- sibility of this particular part of the occur cnce is not to be questioned. For certain definite and easily comprehended reasons the real degree of Moore's poverty when he arrived in London and previous to his talent'.s recognition by the Regent, who did accept the dedication and thus insure the success of his first volume of verses, has been exaggerated, but in regard to his possession of the Laureateship of England the story deals with fact. Nevertheless the correctness of this bestowal of favor by the Prince of Wales was publicly denied in the columns of an influential New York newspaper at the time of the play's first presentation in the metropolis. For the enlightenment of those who may have been led into error by this misstatement, at the time over- looked by the author, they are referred to letter No. 63, from Moore to his mother, dated Friday, May 20th, 1803, in the first volume of the " Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore," edited by Lord John Russell, in which the poet gives his ict reasons for having recently relinquished the i in question. It is also true that the first notable success of Bessie Dyke as an actress was scored at Kilkenny, Ireland, PREFACE I? instead of London. As her elder sister, Marv. has no part in this story, she has been omitted altogether, though her long and successful career upon the Ameri- can stage is a part of the siatioT-il theatrical history. So far as the characters herein set forth are con- cerned but little explanation is required. Those his- torical have been sketched in accordance with the accounts of their peculiarities furnisned by the litera- ture of the times. Several of the m. -t important people are entirely imaginary, or have been constructed by combining a number of single individuals into one personage. In reply to the anticipated charge that the author cannot prove that the incidents described in the prog- ress of Moore's wooing ever happened, he makes bold to answer that it is equally as impossible to prove that they did not. With this explanation, necessary or unnecessary, as the future will no doubt prove, the book "Tom Moore" IS confided to the nercy of the public which has so generously welcomed the play. CONTENTS BOOK ONE ONE AFTERNOON IW IRELAND Chaftir Pxgb I. Tom Moork goes Angling 3 II. Certain Happenings in Mistress Dyke's School . 10 III. Tom Moore entertains Teacher and Pupil . . 16 IV. The Blackmailing ok Tom Moore 23 V. Tom Moore giv^s Mistress Dyke an Inkling . 34 VI. Two Gentlemen of Wealth and Breeding . . 43 VII. Tom Moore obliges a Friend and gets in Trouble 53 BOOK T fr O ONE AFTERNOON IN ENGLAND VIII. Introduces Montgomery Julien Ethelbert Spinks gj IX. To.m Moore receives Calls krom Mrs. Malonk AND Mr. Dyke 53 X. In which the Landlady is played a Trick . .116 XI. Tom Moore receives Visits from Two Cobblers AND A Clerk 127 XII. In which i IE Poet warbles to Mrs. Malone. . 146 XIII. Tom Moore has a Bitier Disappointment and an Unexpected Visitor 151 XIV. Sir Percival Lovelace is favored by Fortune 166 Xil -i\ CONTENTS BOOK THREE TWO EVENINGS IN HIGH SOCtETT CHArTim XV. Sfts forth Certain Explanations 185 XVI. Tom Moork separates a Young Ladv from HER Skirt ,qj XVII. Honors are Easy j,- XViri. Tom Moore MovKs rN DisTiNGUKSHED Company 224 XIX. Mr. Shkridan, Mr. BRtrMMELL, and Mr. Moorb HOLD COU.NCIL OF WaR jjj XX. Tom Moore makes a Bad Bargain 351 XXI. The Poet falls from Favor ,« XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. BOOK FOUR A NIGHT OF ADfENTURR Tom Moore receives a Proposal of Marriage 269 The Poet has Callers and gives a Dinner PARTY 288 Tom Moore hears of a Political Appoint- "^''^ 30s Sir Incognito receives a Warm Welcome . . 312 Tom Moore's Servant proves a Friend in N""^^ 319 The Poet regains Royal Favor 32^ THE Play, founded by Mr. Sayre on the same inci* dents as the novel, was produced by Messrs. Rich and Hanis, with great success at the Herald Square Theatre, New York, on the evening of the Thirty-first of August, 1901, with the following cast : Tom Moore, Ireland's favorite poet . . . ANDREW MACK Prince of Wales, Regent of England .... Mvron Calice Sir Percival Lovelace, Boon Companion to the Prince Georue F. Nash Lord Moira, Moore's frieid and patron . Theodore Babcock Robin Dyke, an Irish minjr poet George W. Devo Shkridan, the famous wit Giles Shine Beau Brummell, a leader of society . . . Harry P. Stonb Terence Farkell, a young Irishman .... Frank Mayne RusTEK, Moore's servant Edward J. Heron McDermott, a publisher Richard J. Dillon Servant John Napier Mickey Willie PATsrv Dicky Johnny Tommy Lizzie Nellie Maggie Katie Bridget Mary School Children Johnny Cooke Willie Cooke Augustus Wilkes Georgie Cadieux Johnny Wilkes Harold Grau Vivian Martin Ethel Clifton Mary McManus Sylvia Cashin Isabel Barrcacole Loretta Ruge Bessie Dyke, an Irish gi'rl Josephine Lovett Winnie Farrkll, an heiress Susie Wilkerson Mrs. Fitz-Herbert, the i rince's favorite . . . Jane Peyton Mrs. Maloni. Moore's landlady .... Maggie Fiblding Coartiers, Ladies, Footmen, Servants, eta it Book One " The time I've lost in wooing^ In watching and pursuing The lights that ties In woman's eyes^ Has been my heart's undoing " ^jmsi^. Mmii TOM MOORE Chapter One TOM MOORE GOES ANGLING MR. THOMAS MOORE was certainly in a very cheerful mood. This was evidenced by the merry tune with which he whs delighting himself, and a jealous-minded thrush, with head cocked on one side, waited with ill-concealed im- patience for his rival to aflford him the opportumty of entering into competition. As this was not forthcom- ing, the bird took wing with an angry flirt of the tail and mental objurgation levelled at the unconscious head of the dapper young Irishman, who lilted gayly as he wandered along the path worn in the sward of the meadow bv the school children on their way to and from the institution . learning presided over by Mistress Elizabeth Dyke. "The time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light, that lies In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing." Moore paused in his ditty an,l sat down on a con- venient stone, while he wiped his brow with a ragged silk handkerchief which, though of unmistakably an- cient origin was immaculately clean. •._..<....: i?rw< .■ratS?..-^-*J3S?' TOM MOORE Faith, • he murmured, " there "s no fiction in that last stanza. It 's broken-hearted I am, or as near it as an Irishman can be without too much exertion." He sighed almost unhappily, and drawing a knife from his breeches pocket proceeded to manufacture a whistle from the bark on the end of the long willow wand he had cut a few moments before to serve as a nshing-rod. This last was accomplished after some little effort browT^"'^"^ ^>' "^"<^'i Parsing of lips and knitting of His labors completed, Moore regarded the whistle with the critical approval of an expert, and putting it to his mouth blew a shrill blast. As the result was eminently satisfactory, he bestowed the toy in the crown of his beaver and, crossing his legs comfort- ably, proceeded to take his case. His appearance was decidedly attractive Whilf quite a little below middle si.e, his wiry figure was so well proportioned that in the absence of other men nearer the ordinary standard of height, he would >^ave passed as a fine figure of a lad. He carried himself with easy grace, but affected none of the mincing studied mannerisms of the dandv of the period He ■ had a round, jolly face, a pleasing though slightly satir- ical mouth, an impudent nose, and a pair of fine eyes so brightly good-humored and laughingly intelligent' that no one could have looked into their 'clear depths without realizing that this was no ordinary youth And yet at the period in his career from which' dates the beginning of this chronicle Tom Moore's fortunes were at a decideicky ofT this time." Bessie laughed outright in spite of herself, but Milly, regarding Patsy's suggestion as nothing short of pos- ---'^ -^_«i.yT-.- •J-^..-. .' riArry her." "As though I'd marry that," remarked Milly, in accents bv no means admiring. " Never mind that. Miss Milly! An honest man's love is not to be scorned even when it's in short breeches," said Moore, reprovingly. " So it is jeal- ousy that is at the bottom of this quarrel? Faith, I 11 settle it right here. Neither of you lads shall have Milly. I "H marry her myself." " All right." said Milly, cocking her eye at Bessie, " if teacher has no objectitni, I have nt." "What an idea!" ejaculated the schoolmistress, descending from her desk. " Tom, how can you talk such nonsense? " „ •. " Don't mind her, Milly. It 's only jealousy, said Moore. " Bovs, this f^ght is postponed till after hours." Then he added, in a whisper, " I '11 referee it mvsclf. Go to your seats." " Each of you boys will remain in an hour after school is dismissed," said Bessie, severely. Moore stepped quickly to the desk where she had sealed herself preparatory to continuing the session. • Oh murder, no ! " he expostulated in an undertone, "low can I talk to you, Bessie, if they are here?" "Do you wish to talk to me, Mr. Moore?" asked t'le guileless maiden, as though surprised. " I am dying to, Bessie." said he. '. vutff-i -^■Af r vift m «BW~^ i8 TOM MOORE *' On second thoughts, boys," she announced, " since Mr. Moore has interceded for you, you need not stay in, but there is to be no more fighting after school. I don't Hke quarrelling."' "Then you have made up your niird to be an old maid, have you ? " murmured Moore. Bessie tossed her head disdainfully. "Are you sure the mouse is gone?" she asked, evading the question. " I think I see it there," exclaimed Moore. " Look out, Bessie!" " Oh ! " cried the girl, relapsing into fright and sei. -ng hold of her cc.npanion for safety's sake. " Don't let the horrid thing come near me ! " Moore chuckled and released himself from her ap- pealing grasp. " Please be more respectful, Mistress Dyke," he said reprovingly. " I '11 not have you seizing hold of m'- like this. It is entirely too familiar treatment for a young unmarried man to submit to at such short notice and unchaperoned. Have you no bringing up at all ? What do you suppose my mother would say if she thought I permitted you to take such liberties? " " Oh. never mind your mother," said Bessie pet- tishly, deciding that she was in no particular danger at the present moment. " That is nice advice to give a young lad." com- mented Moore, drawing a rose from his button-hole. " See, Bessie, I have brought you a posey, the last blossom on the bush. Some day, if I have the tine, I shall write a poem on the subject." " Thank you, Tom."' As she spoke, Bessie put the flower in a glass of TEACHER AND PUPILS 19 water on the desk that already held a bunch of clover plucked for her by the grimy fingers of one of her pupils. Dicky stood up and raised his hand. ^ase, teacher," he lisped, " is Mr. Moore going to sing for us? " " Sure as life," said Moore, his vanity tickled. A murmur of approval came from the children. The young Irishman had amused them with his fine voice more than once, extracting in return from their evi- dent enjoyment quite as much pleasure as his music afitorded them. " What shall it be, teacher?" he asked, turning to Bessie. "Oh, anything but one of those odes from Anacreon, Tom. They are simply terrible." " But vou read them all." " I blush to admit it," answered the girl, frowning at his lack of tact in recalling such an indiscreet proceeding. . " Ah, Bessie," he murmured tenderly, "I'd admit anything for the sake of seeing the roses steal in and oat of your dear cheeks. Why, it is like watching the sunset sweeping over the clouds in the west on a summer evening." " Sing, Thomas Moore," commanded the girl, but a softer look came into her eyes as she settled com- fortably back in her chair to listen. " I 'd like to pass my life singing to you, Bessie." " That 's all very well, Tom, but the notes from your throat are not taken at the bank." "Well," retorted he, cheerily, "to get even, it is not many bank notes I take." ^^iSiia 20 TOM MOORE Moore, after fetching a liigh stool from a distant corner of the room, perched himself upon it ' began to sing, the school-room echoing with the . ring- ing voice that was destined in after years to be the delight of the most fashionable circle in Europe. He had selected an old ballad setting forth the emo- tions felt by a world-worn traveller as he threaded the streets of his native village after years of wan- dering abroad, and, as the chorus was composed of the various song-game rhymes sung by the children in their play, it was quite familiar to the pupils of Mistress Dyke, who joined in heartily. " Ready," cried Moore, beckoning the children from their places. " '.vow, all together. " ' I came to see Miss Jenny O'Jones, Jenny O'Jones, Jenny O'Jones, I came to see Miss Jenny O'Jones, And how is she to-day ? ' " Hand in hand the children, their shrill voices raised tunefully under the leadership of Moore, marched gayly forward and back, the poet prancing as joy- ously as any of them, as he beat time with a ruler. "Second verse," he said, and, enjoying every note, sang it through to the huge delight of his audience, who, when the chorus was reached a second time, danced around him in a circle, their pleasure proving so infectious that Bessie herself deserted her desk to take part in the wind-up, vyrhich was both uproarious and prolonged. " That will do you." said Moore, mopping his face with his handkerchief. " Faith, it is great fun we have been having, Bessie." • TEACHER AND PUPILS 21 " So it appears," she replied, rapping on the desk for order. "You have a fine lot of pupils, Bessie. I'd like to be father of them all." " Mr. Moore ! " exclaimed the girl, horrified at such a wish. " I i-'^an I 'd like t^ have a family as smart as they look," explained Moore, helping himself to a chair. " That would not require much effort," replied the girl, coldly. " But it would take time." suggested the graceless young joker. Then he continued, as Bessie gave him a freezing glance, " I mean, never having been mar- ried, I don't know, so I will have to take your word for it." " You deserve to be punished for your impudence, Tom Moore." " Since I 'm a bachelor, that is easy brought about, Bessie." " Who would marry such a rogtie as you ? " " I 'm not going to betray the ladies' confidence in my honor by giving you a list of their names," replied Moore, virtuously. Then he added softly : " I know something — I mean some one — I de- serve, whom I am afraid I won't get." '• Sooner or later we all get our deserts," said Bessie, wisely. " I want her for more than dessert," he answered. " For three meals of love a day and a light lunch in the evening." " It is time to dismiss school." " I am not sorry for that ; send the darlings home." " And another thing, Tom Moore, you must never 1 ft 2 2 TOM MOORE come here again during school hours. It is impossible to control the children when you are around." Moore laughed. " You had them nicely controlled when I arrived, (lid n't you ? " said he. " Oh, well, I '11 come later and stay longer. Dismiss them." Bessie rang the bell, and school broke up for the day immediately. Chapter Four THE BLACKMAILING OF TOM MOORE AFTER bidding good-bye to the visitor most of the children crowded noisily out of the door, rejoicing at their resumption of free- dom, but Patsy, he of the red hair, seated himself deliberately on the front bench and immediately became deeply interested in his arithmetic, his pres- ence for the moment being completely overlooked by Moore, whose attention was attracted by the attempt of a ragged little miss to make an unnoticed exit. " Little gii'i," said Moore, gently, " why are you going without saying good-bye to me? What have I done to deserve such treatment from a young lady ? " The child thus reproached, a tiny blonde-haired maiden, dressed in a faded and ragged frock, looked tiiaidiy at her questioner, and flushed to her temples. " I thought you would n't want to say good-bye to me, sir," she answered, shyly. "And why not, alanna?" " 'Cause I 'm poor," she whispered. A tender look came into Moore's eyes and he crossed to the side of the child, his generous heart full of pity for the little one's embarrassment. " I 'm poor, too," he said, patting her yellow curls. " Where do you live, my dear? " TOM MOORE " Down by the Mill, sir, with my auntie." " And is this the best dress she can pive you ? " he asked, trying the texture of the little gown and finding it threadbare and thin. The child looked down at her feet, for the moment aba.shed, then raising her eyes to the young man's face, read only sympathy and tenderness there, and, thus encouraged, answered bravely: " It is better than hers." ■ " Then we can't complain, dear, can we? Of course ntit, but is n't it very thin ? " •'Yes. sir. but I wouldn't mind if it was a bit rtiore stylish." Moore looked at Bessie, smiling at this character- istic manifestation of femininity. •• The size of her ! " he said. " With a woman's Vanity already." Then, turning to the child again, he continued: "Well, we poor people must stick together. I'll call on your aunt to-morrow." *' Will you ? " cried the girl in delight. '' And you '11 smg to us? " " That I will," said Moore, heartily. " Now run along like a good girl, and mind me, dear, never be ashamed of your honest poverty. Remember that the best man of us all slept in a manger." " Yes, sir," responded the child, happily, " I 'U not forget." ■ As she started for the door Moore called her back and put a shilling in her little pink palm. "What will you do with it?" he asked, chucking her under tho I'hin. " Buv a ribbon, sir." BLACKMAILING TOM MOORR 35 "A ribbon?" echoed Moore in iinitatioi' -'f her jubilant tone. " For me auntie." " Bless ; ^ur generous little heart," said Moore, drawing another coin from his pocket. " There is the like of it for yourself. Buy one for each of you. Now oflf you go. (jood-bye." The child ran lightly to the door, but, as slie reached the steps, turned, as though struck by a sudden thought, and beckoned to Moore. " YoM may kiss me. sir," she announced with a3 much dignity as though she were bestowing upon her benefactor some priceless gift, as indeed she was, for certainly she possessed nothing more valuable. Thon, after he had availed hiniFcH of her offer, she courle- sied with childish grace and trotted gayly off, her two precious shillings tightly clutched in her hand. Be- lieving himself to be alone with Bessie, Mr)ore hast- ened toward her with outstretched arms, but was sud- denly made aware of the presence of a thin! party by Patsy, who discreetly cleared his throat as he sat immersed in his book. ;• » Moore turned to Bessie. " What is that lad doing there ? " he whispered. " Does n't he know school is over ? " "How shvuild I know?" she answered, though a glint of fun in her eyes sho>ved she was not without her suspicion as to the reason of Patsy's presence. " You might ask him what he w^ants," she suggested encouragingly. " I will," said Moore, approaching the interrupter of his wooing with a disapproving expression upon his face. •' . B«rr "s^rfsM 26 TOM MOORE i^ ' " Look here, my son, don't you know school is dismissed? " " Vis, sir," replied Patsy, loudly. " And yet you are still here ? " " Yis, sir." " Bad luck to you, can't you say anything but ' Yis, sir'?" " No, sir," responded Patsy, not at all intimidated by Moore's glovverinp looks. " That is better," said Moore. " You are going home now ? " " No, sir." " There you go again ! Faith, I wish you would say ' Yes ' and stick to it. What are you doing here at this unseasonable hour?" " I wish to study mc lessons," replied Patsy, en- thusiastically. Fairly dashed, Moore returned to Bessie. " I never saw a lad so fond of his books before," said he. " It is a new thing for Patsy," said Bessie with a laugh. " There is no bigger dunce in school." "Is that so?" asked Moore. "Faith, I'm begin- ning to understand." Patsy looked sharply over his book at the young poet. " Can't you study at home, my lad ? " " No, sir." " Will you never say ' Yes, sir,' again?" " No, sir." " Now look here, my young friend, if you say ' Yes, sir,' or ' No, sir,' again I '11 beat the life out of you." ^.-i' BLACKMAILING TOM MOORE 27 " All right, sir," responded Patsy, plunging his face still deeper into his book. Moore regarded his small tormentor with a look of dismay. " You will strain your eyes with so much study, Patsy," he said, warningly. " That is what you will do, — and go blind and have to be led around by a stick, leaning on a small dog." A suppressed giggle from Ressie drew his attention to his mistake. " It 's the other way round I mean. Are n't you afraid of that sad fate, my bucko?" Patsy shook his head and continued his energetic .'i/estigation of his a^'ithmetic, while Moore sought counsel from the sti. ',;, istress, who was keenly enjoying her admirer's u.. omfiture. "What will I say to the little tinker, Bessie?" he asked, ruefully. " How should I know, Tom ? I am his teacher and will have to help him if he wishes it." " What is it troubles you ? " demanded Moore, look- ing di)wn on Patsy's red head. " A sum, sir," replied Patsy. " Show it to me." The boy designated an example with his finger. '* ' If a man sold forty eggs at one ha'penny an ^SS>' " '■^ad Moore from the book, " ' how many eggs— ? Shutting up the arithmetic, he put his hand in his pocket and jingled its contents merrily. " Is the answer to this problem sixpence? " he asked. " Oh, no. sir," replied Patsy ingenuously. " What is, then? " demanded Muore, baffled. 28 TOM MOORE t' r. ■. ,!' Two shillings," announced the graceless youth. " 1 '11 give you one," said Moore, suggesting a com- promise, but Patsy was not to be so lowered in his piice. " Tii'o is the answer," he replied in a determined ILone. , >Ioore yielded without further protest and produced the money. " There you are, you murdering blackmailer," said he. " Now get out before T warm your jacket." ,_ Patsy seized his books, and, dodging a cuff aimed at him by his victim, ran out of the schoolhouse with a derisive yell. '■ Bessie," said Moore, solemnly, "that little spal- peen will surely come to some bad end." " And be hanged?" asked the girl, taking a hand- ful of goose-quills from her desk preparatory to ^llarpeniIlg them into pens with an old knife drawn fiom the same storehouse. " Or get married, my sweet girl, though they say death is better than torture," replied Moore, approach- ing the schoolmistress. " Do you know it cost me two shillings to get a talk with you?" I'essie smiled and fuiished a pen with e.xquisite care. " Talk is cheap," she observed, carelessly. ,; " Whoever said that never called at your school, Bessie Dyke," said Moore, perching himself upon her desk. " Turn your face a bit the other way, if you please." .\s he spoke he took the girl's round chin in his hands and moved her head until only a side view of her pretty face could be obtained from his post of vantage. BLACKMAILING TOM MOORK 29 " Do you like my profile so much, Tom ? " she asked, submitting docilely to his direction. " It 's not that, Bessie," answered Moore, " it 's because I can't stand tzvo such eyes at once. Now there is but one of them looking at me. And such an eye! My heart's jumping under my jacket like a tethered buUfrc^ with the glance of it. Ah, Bessie, there is only one in the wide world like it." " And where is that ? " asked the girl, a shade ol jealousy perceptible in her inquiry. "'' " Just around the bend of your nose, mavoumeen," laughed Moore. " Filled with melted moonshine are both of them. Sure, one soft look from those eyes would make a cocked hat out of starlight." !? " Would it ? " murmured Bessie, charmed in spite of herself. " Do you really mean all you say? " "Mean it? It's poor justice my words do your beauty, Bessie dear. You have the sauciest, darling- est, scornfuUest nose, and such a mouth! Why, to look at it makes my lips pucker." ' "A lemon would do the same," observed Bessie, foiling Moore's attempt to snatch a kiss by sitting back in her chair. " You need not think I believ* all your nonsense, Thomas Moore." " Don't you believe what I have just said, Bessie?" " Not I. You need n't flatter yourself." "Why needn't I? Will you do it for me?" " I have something better to do," replied Bessie, paring another quill with much vigor. " That is what I call a cutting remark," said Moore, looking at the knife. Bessie sighed, and temporarily abandoned her labors; " Tom Moore," she said solemnly, " why will you make such awful puns?" ;j i 30 TO M MOOR E " Practice makes perfect, my dear. If I keep on, some day I may make a pjood one." " I wonder if there ever was a good pun? " " Keep on wondering. You look like an angel pon- dering over the fit of her wings." " Tom, that is sacrilegious." " You 're wrong, Bessie, it 's only poetry." Bessie frowned. Like all good women, she did not like to hear religion spoken of lightly, so she rebuked the erring Thomas with a glance. " You are pretty even when you frown, Bessie," remarked the unregcnerate versifier. Bessie attempted to look doubtful as to the truth of this last statement. "Why shouldn't you believe me? Hasn't your mirror showed you day after day what I am telling yon ? " As he spoke Moore took her hand in his, not notic- ing that one slender finger was wound round by a bandage. Bessie gave a little cry of pain. "What is the matter?" " You hurt me," she answered, exhibiting her finger. " I 'm more than sorry, Bessie, but what ails your pinkie? " " I burned my hand." " Shall I burn the other for you ? " asked Mo extending his in invitation. " How could you ? " she demanded, suspecting a trap. " Why," said Moore, " with a kiss half as warm as my heart." Bessie giggled, then tried to resume her dignity, but if BLACKMAILING TOM MOORE 31 Moore had no intention of letting such an advantage pass unutilized, and, seizing her uninjured hand, planted a hearty smack in its warm palm. " Mr. Moore) " "Mistress Dyke!" " I shan't allow you to stay here if you cannot behave in a sensible manner," she threatened. "I'm not sensible?" " Not now." " Then, if I am not sensible, I am unconscious, and, if I am unconscious, I am not responsible for what I do." Moore with this justification made a sudden attempt to embrace Bessie, who, always prepared for such law- lessness, evaded his outstrt died arms and retaliated by pricking him with her knife, a proceeding which resulted in the instant removal of the poet's person from her desk, accompanied by an ejaculation that sounded suspiciousl* like profanity. "What did you say, Tom?" asked Bessie with a gurgle of satisfaction. For once she had the better of her resourceful admirer. " You will he 'e to guess that, Bessie," he remarked. " Do you think that is a nice way to treat a young man?" " Oh, it was only a joke," said Bessie, quite unre- pentant. " Your jokes are too pointed," said Moore. " After this please refrain from any that are sharp enough to go clean through doe-skin breeches and I '11 thank you." The door opened suddenly and Dicky, still resplen- dent in red shirt and golden curls, appeared, carrying ^. 32 TOM MOORE a book. He halted on the threshold and looked in- quiringly at his teacher. "Egad, it's the cherub!" exclaimed Moore. Taking courage. Dicky toddled in, book in hand, and approached M(X)re, who gazed wonderingly down at him. " Well, my lad, what do you want? " " Please, sir." piped Dicky, " I wants help vvid ine lessons," and he held up his book. Bessie stuflfed her handkerchief into her mouth to smother her laughter, while a look of understanding came into Moore's eyes. " Oh, you want help, do you ? " said the latter. " Yis, sir, wid mc aris'metic," announced Dicky, laboring earnestly to bring forth the big word and catching some of the edges with his teeth in spite of the exertion. " It 's a sum, sir." " A sum indeed ? " echoed Moore. " Yis, sir, and the answer is one shillin', sir." Moore looked over at Bessie, who almost choked and had to seek relief in coughing. Then he regarded the recently arrived blackmailer with a glance that he vainly endeavored to make severe, but Dicky perceived the twist of mirth at the sides of his victim's mouth, and took heart accordingly. " A shilling, my young Jack Sheppard ? " said Moore, feeling in his pocket. " I 11 give you a six- pence." " Patsy said it was a shillin'," insisted Dicky, stamp- ing his feet by way of emphasis. Moore yielded in shameful defeat. " There you are, you highwayman, and you tell Patsy I '11 flake him when I catch him again," he said, handing out the desired coin. " You see that door ? BLACKMAILING TOM MOORE 33 Well, get through it as quickly as you can, or I may do you bodily injury." Dickj fled wildly across the school-room with Moore galloping at his heels, then the door shut with a bang, and the pair were alone again. Chapter Five r- ' TOM MOORE GIVES MISTRESS DTKE AN INKLING MOORE regarded Bessie with a glance of reproving indignation, which was quite lost upon the young lady. " I *m in a den of thieves, I am," he remarked, sternly. " Bessie, I half believe you put those lads up to that same game. What share do you get? Half, I '11 wager." "When do you go back to Dublin, Tom?" asked the girl, waving aside his insinuation with a flirt of her handkerchief. " I don't know," responded Moore. " I should be there now." " Should you, Tom? What is keeping you, then?" Simple child! She, of course, hau not the slightest suspicion that she was in any way concerned in the poet's prolonged tarrying at Dalky. Innocence is a truly beautiful thing, and that it is not more popular is much to be regretted. " Keeping me ? " repeated Moore. " Nothing but my heart, mavoumeen." " Indeed ? Who has it in their possession, if it is no longer in yours ? " " You, Bessie," answered Moore, earnestly. " And pray do not return it. After being in your keeping, GIVES AN INKLING 35 no other woman would satisfy it, and I 'd have no peace at all. Ah, alanna, when I left Dublin, weary and discouraged at my failure to sell my poetry, and came to this quiet country place in search of rest, it is little I dreamed I would run across such a pirl as you. You have put new thoughts in my head, Bessie. My soul is not the same at all." Touched by the tenderness of his tone, the girl grew sober in her turn. " And you must go, Tom? " she asked, regretfully. " I have my fortune to make, Bessie. Why, mavour- neen, I have n't a penny of my own." " And no pennies of anybody else's ? " Moore smiled broadly. " How could I have?" said he. " I never went to school here. I don't know the system like your pupils." Bessie laughed and looked so tempting in her mirth that Moore made another attempt to kiss her, with no better success than had rewarded his previous efforts. " Poverty is a common complaint," she observed, shaking her head at the disappointed youth. " I had rather be poor than a miser," said Moore, sitting down on a stool. "A miser? Am I one?" " Yes, with your kisses. Faith, they are spoiling to be picked." " I am the best judge of when and by whom they shall be picked, good sir," replied Bessie, pensively nibbling on the end of a brown curl. " It is hard to be poor, Bessie," sighed Moore, rest- ing his feet on a rung of the stool, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hand, this being a favorite attitude of the poet's. 36 TOM MOORE i L h "If you would marry Winnie Farrell yf)u would have slews of money," suggested Bessie, lear/ ig on the back of the bench with affected carelessness of de- meanor, but there was a gleam in her eye. hidden "ncath drooping lids and long lashes, that seemed indic- ative of no little interest in the forthcoming answer. Moore looked inquiringly at his fair companion. " Winnie Farrell is it ? " he said, laughing at the idea. " Not for me, Bessie. I have picked out another lassie." " But I 'm told you often call at Squire Farrell's," persisted the girl, not wholly reassured. " To be sure T do, Bessie," replied Monre frankly. " And no wonder. The Farrells are pleasant people. Winnie is nice to chat with, and I like her brother. He is the cleverest lad in the country." Bessie shook her head doubtfully, and a sunbeam that, slanting in the windcw, had comfortably nested in a coil of her bonny brown hair was rudely thrown forth to find no better restmg-place than the floor, for the girl moved nearer to Moore as she spoke. " He is toe clever for his own good, I fear," she said. " The fewer dealings you have with Terence the better it will be for you." Before Moore could reply the door opened, and Patsy, Micky, and Willy Donohue filed in, each clutch- ing an arithmetic. " Look, Tom," said Bessie, pointing out the new- comers. Moore regarded the little party with wide-open eves. " Egad, Bessie." said he, " it 's a committee. What do you lads want now?" GIVES AN INKLING 37 " Please, sir," said Patsy, acting as spokesman, " these two boys wants help wid their lessons. They each has a sum, sir, and their answer is sixpence apiece." " Come here, then," said Moore, sweetly, " and I '11 hand it to you." The boys, made confident by past successes, came forward withoi't hesitation as their victim put both hands in his pockets. " It is a long worm that has no turning," remarked Moore, seizing Patsy by the collar with one hand, while with the other he picked up the ruler from the desk. " This is where Thomas Moore worms — I mean turns. There is sixpence where you won't lose it. my lad." The dust flew from Patsy's breeches, while from his mouth proceeded vigorous objections to his present treatment. " Now lun, you divil, or I will repeat the dose." cried Moore, throwing the ruler at Micky's bare shins as that youthful conspirator sought safety in headlong flight with Willy before him and Patsy close at his heels. A moment later they appeared outside the window and retaliated with derisive gestures for their recent defeat until Moore ran towards the door as though about to give chase, when the lads, squealing with fright, fled across the fields, disappearing in the distant trees. "How do you like teaching?" asked Bessie, mis- chievously, as Moore returned. " Fine," he said. " Fine, and it 's I that pays the fines, little limbs of Satan." '* Remember, you are speaking of my pupils, Mr. Moore," she said threateningly. 38 TOM MOORE I'! f: *■ l "All right," said Moore, "little limbs of Bessie Dyke!" "Tom!" " I did n't mean it that way, my dear. Far be it from me to make such indelicate remarks inten- tionally." " I am not so sure," said Bessie, suspiciously. *' I did n't think what I was saying, Bessie," " Do you always say what you think ? " " Do you want me to be arrested ? " demanded Moore. " I conceal my thoughts almost as often as you do, mavourneen." " You can omit that ' Mavourneen,' " said Bessie, refusing to be so soon cajoled into good humor. " I 'm not to be blarneyed so easily." "Oh," said Moore, "it's a terrible thing to be haunted by a girl's face." " Is it?" asked Bessie, mollified. " I should think so," responded Moore. " I can't work for thinking of one." " Is her name ' Laziness ' ? " " You '11 get no more information on the subject from me. Do you know, Bessie, I have half made up my mind not to go back to Dublin at all ? " "No? Where else would you go, Tom? ' "To London," announced Moore, dramatically. " To London, Bessie, and once there I '11 take Dame Fortune by the throat and strangle the hussy till she gives me what I deserve." "Ah," cried Bessie, "that would be splendid, Tom!" " I 'd go to-morrow only I dare n't leave you, darlin', for fear you will be stolen from me in my absence." I I GIVES AN INKLING 39 " What do you mean ? " asked Bessie, looking at him in surprise. " As though you did not know, Bessie ! " answered Moore, rising to his feet, " I mean this Sir Percival Lovelace, who is seen so often in vour company of late. Lord Brooking's friend. Don't I know what he is after when I sec a great gentleman like him, the odor of Court still in his ruffles, walking and talking with a pretty bit of a school-teacher like you? " Bessie flushed a little, but her tone was sad instead of angry when she answered : " Tom, have you no faith in me? " " Well, it is precious little I have in Sir Percival," he replied, turning away angrily, " and the less you have the better it will be for you." Bessie's eyes twinkled maliciously. Here was her chance to pay her lover back for some of the plague- ments he had practised upon her. " You don't like Sir Percival ? " said she, calmly. " Not I," said Moore. " I see through his fine man- ners easy enough." " He says I would make a good actress," continued Bessie, as though flattered by the idea. Moore bit his lip in anger, but spoke calmly enough when he answered: " He did n't say you would make a good wife? " It was Bessie's turn to lose her temper. " Oh, Tom," she snapped crossly. " I shall be an^" ■' Moore sat down on the bench previously ornamented by Patsy's youthful form. •' Pd rather you would be angry than sorry," he said, moodily. \lr\ :\i i^- 40 r O M MOOR E There was a short silence. Fur a moment Bessie hesitated between anger and apoloj; . then her real rtgard for Moore triumphed and she decided not to torment him further. " Tom," she said softly. >'(ore showed no sign of havin hoard her. " '"om," she said as sweetly as i deliciously mod- iihto 1 voice could sound the w <\. ''\i\ no reply. She stepped lii,'luly tow.irds him. " Tom, dear, don't he sul' v," she said, laving one l.rui 1 ui on his sturdy shiiihKr. " Whv I care mo. c for your little finger tha'i I ever could for >ir Percfvp] " "Will vou tfll him so?" asked Moore, taking her hand as he rose. This wa askinjr entirelv ton mi'di and Bessie raised her head cry haughti!- . indignant that her conde- scension in making so confidential a staf**ment had led to such an extravagant request. " Indeed, I will «<;. ' she declared, defiantly, re- turning as si, sjMjke 10 her chair behind the desk at the front of thi -.choolroom. Moore follows! her and they stood face o fac -he desk between them. "Very wtil," he said ieterminedlv, "if ni won't. I will." '* If you ilar> Thomas Moore," cru B^ssu '•: r g one pink forefinger at the poet, adn" iiishin \ou dare! " If " Faith, f dare do anything," he replied, ani her hand, plunged the lifted fingci up -o tht joint in the contents of the inkstanr thus effL ending the argumert. "Oh!" cried Di-ie. holding her L^ J, so iht- jetty seizmf; sec id .r ■ ly 'V^Y'T^ 'M: f > I. I GIVES AN INKLING 41 fluid would not fall upon her gown or apron. " You horrid, horrid thing, see what you have done ! " Moore laughed heartily at her discomfiture, and in so doing recovered his usual cheerful spirits. " Oh, the ink will wash off," he chuckled. " That is more than the mark you have left on my heart will do, for that is indelible." Bessie stamped her tiny foot in her rage and made as though she would wipe her hand on Moore's coat, which caused the triumphant young man to seek sud- den shelter behind the benches. " I can't wash it oflF, Tom Moore." " Have you never been taught to perform your ab- lutions, Bessie ? " " Stupid ! My other hand is burned and water will r 3ke it smart." " I wonder if water would make me smart." " / 'd like to," said the girl. " I 've always tried wine when I thought I needed intellectual stimulation." " I should think you would be drinking all the time," said Bessie, spitefully. " Not all the time," corrected Moore. " Part of it I spend earning the price. There, now, don't worry, I 'II scrub your little fist for you if you will let me. Will you?" Bessie's anger cooled as rapidly as it had wanned. " If you will be very gentle, you may." " Trust me for that," said Moore, going to the bucket that stood in the corner with a basin covering it. " It 's empty, Bessie. There is not as much water here as would make a foot-bath for a flea." " You can fetch it from the well," said Bessie. 42 TOM MOORE " Wi'I you come with nie ? " " You can go alone, Tom Moore." " I can, but I don't want to, Bessie."' " You would be almost there now if you had n't stopped to talk." " Won't } ou come, Bessie ? " " I suppose I will have to do it to please you," said the girl, yielding with a little sigh. "Won't it please you, too?" said Moore, stopping her. " But. Tom — " "Won't it?" he insisted. "Yes, — yes, — yes!" she replied, with increasing emphasis on each reiteration. Moore let her pass, and she paused at the door, looking over her plump shoulder. " What a child you arc, Tom Moore ! " "Child," he repeated. "Child? Maybe! am, Bessie, but when you are called ' Mama ' it won't be by me, though I think I '11 not be far off." " Oh ! " she cried, and slammed the door. i li ! 1^ Chapter Six 'IWO GENTLEMEN OF 1VEALTH AND BREEDING IT is doubtful if a search prosecuted through the entire extent of the United Kingdoms over which the Prince of Wales ruled as Regent would have brought forth a more debonair or contented individ- ual than Sir Percival Lovelace, gentleman, libertine, and chosen comrade of His Royal Highness. In the eyes of this gallant, morals were a mark of ancient barbarism that gentle breeding and a long line of ancestors should be expected to remove or render for- gotten. As these views coincided almost exactly with those cherished by the First Gentleman of Europe, it is not to be wondered that the Prince found in the baronet an agreeable and, more than that, an amusing companion. But even London may pall upon one and. not being hampered by the restrictions limiting the peregrinations of royalty, which were often the cause for much princely profanity at Carlton House, Sir Percival sought change and diversion in a jaunt through Scotland and Wales, finally ending in a tour of Ireland, where, much to his surprise, he stumbled upon certain persons destined to furnish nim with more or less food for thought for the next year or two. His companion on his travels was none other than Lord Brooking, nephew of Lord Moira, already known as m^ 44 TOM MOORE one of England's most capable statesmen. The young gentleman first mentioned was quite popular in the Re- gent's set, but more widely known in the circles from whence the various arts drew encouragement and pat- ronage. But, in spite of his leanings toward the more cultured pursuits scantily patronized by the profligate society immediately surrounding the Regent, Lord Brooking was much more popular with that noble gen- tleman than many whose daily and nightly labor was the effort to curry favor with England's ruler. Lord Brooking was no ordinary persotiage. There was small flavor of the roue in his character, though it cannot be denied that, following the general current of fus'iion, he had not hesitated to play his part in the masque of dissipation offered as entertainment to the middle and lower classes by the aristocracy whom they were expected to envy and admire. But in his heart he felt only regret for his own participation in such unworthy extravagance, and, in most instances, a profound contempt for those who found diversion and contentment in such existence. There w^re two conspicuous xceptions to his lordship's general con- demnation. The first was Richard Brinsley Sheridan, poet, dramatist, and statesman, now in his decadence, who still sought and furnished entertainment in society, a garrulous, drunken, and witty old gentleman, with a heart as young and a thirst as dictatorial as when F"ame first brought him well-merited reward. The only enemies owned by this lightsome veteran were those foolish enough to expect eventual settlement of bills or loans that they were so unwise as to allow him to add to his long list of personal indebtedness. It is almost unnecessary to mention lliat disappointment GENTLEMEN OF WEALTH 45 was the subsequent conclusion of all such hopes of his deluded creditors, for Mr. Sheridan was consistent in one thing to the last — entire lack of financial responsibility. The other exception was Sir rcrcival. who was so gay, so generous, so witty that Brooking, blinded by the glitter of a sparklingly brilliant personality, neither saw nor felt the hideous moral imperfections that this winning gentleman hid beneath his splendid exterior. The several peccadilloes really beyond all extenuation or apology of which the baronet had been guilty had never been brought to the attention of his younger friend and so at the time of which this tale is a chron- icle it would have been difficult to find two closer cronies than this pair of young noblemen, who were strolling leisurely in the direction of the schoolhouse. Sir Percival looked at Brooking quizzically. " "^ou do not approve, lad," he said with a little laugh. " You 're too good a fellow, I am afraid." " I wish I could be as timid about you," replied Brooking, pleasantly. "Can't you, dear boy? No? Pray, why not?" " Do you really wish to know ? " asked Brooking, hesitating a little. Sir Percival treated himself daintily to a pinch of snuflE and brushed the dust irom his coat with an embroidered handkerchief. " I think you wish to tell me," he answered, smil- ing. " It amounts to the same thing between friends, doesn't it?" " I think we may as well understand each other now," said Brooking, in a serious tone. " 1 quite agree mth you." remarked Sir Percival, 46 TO M MOORE inwardly wondering what this introduction would lead to. " I have been postponing this conversation from day to day for the last week." "Indeed? And why?" " It is rather a dehcate subject." " I would prefer one that is indelicate, if it is not inconvenient," suggested Sir Percival. *' For once in your life, Lovelace, be serious." " Even that I will not deny you. Proceed." " We have been pals since boyhood. As little lads wc blacked each other's eyes." " We did." admitted Sir Percival, laughing gently, " and bled each other's noses, too." " We licked the same stick of candy." " Gad, yes. My favorite was peppermint. I re- member it as well as though it were but yesterday." " We grew up to manhood together," continued Brooking, half sadly. " A pretty couple of rakes we were, too." " We are still, dear lad," corrected Sir Percival. " Two very pretty little libertines, upon my honor." " In London, where we were well known as an un- worthy couple. I have no fault to find with you." " No?" said the baronet in surprise. " To tell the truth, that statement causes me some little aston- ishment." " We sailed under our true colors there — " " But," interrupted Sir Percival. " the same flag is still flying, old man." " Ah," said his lordship, " while that is true, it must be remembered that they do not understand its meaning down here. 1 have n t much to brag ut in GENTLEMEN OF WEALTH 4: the way of morals, more is the pity, but no woman has ever wept of shame from my wrong doing, nor will a woman ever do so.'' Sir Percival gave his companion a smile of inter- rogation. " And I ? " he asked. " I am not so sure about you," resp ; Lord Brooking, deliberately, "but in London, w. re you are known, the folly of a girl in trusting you would be so inexcusable that indiscretion upon your part might be readily condoned : l--.t here in this peaceful, simple old town it is very different." " Come to the point, Brooking. You are almost tiresomely wordy to-day." " It amounts to this, Percy. I have done some things I 'm heartily ashamed of and I intend in the future to be a better fellow." " Very commendable, indeed." observed the baronet, a trifle bored. " Does my approval encourage you ? " "What do you intend to do with Bessie Dyke?" demanded the younger man, halting as he spoke. Sir Percival paused and pensively cut down a weed or two with his walking stick. " Hum," he said slowly. " As I thought." " Do you mean honestly by the girl ? " " Your last words are quite correct." said the bar- onet, coolly. " Buy the girl — I mean to do that, Brooking." "You frankly avow that is your object?" began Brooking, genuinely shocked. -Tut — tut!" interrupted his companion, good humoredly. "She is a pretty creature, isn't she? Clever, too, in her own iuiioccni, foolish, Utile way. 48 TOM MOORE For her smiles and bread-and-buttery love — a wel- come change, by the way, from the London brand of petulant passion — I '11 give her a carriage, horses, fine dresses, a necklace or two, and lastly my own charming sel f for — er — for probably as long a time as several months." "And then, what will become of her?" " Really, I don't know," answered Sir Percival. " Can't imagine, and I shan't bore myself by won- dering. Perhaps she will marry some clodhopper like this Tom Moore. No doubt he would think her doubly valuable when I have finished with her." " You are not in earnest," stammered ('rooking, incredulously. " Quite in earnest, my dear old chap. Ah, you think that I will not succeed ? Pshaw, Brooking ! Not here, perhaps, in this dcliciously moral atmosphere, but else- where, yes. And I intend that she shall be elsewhere, ilrooking. I shall fetch this rural beauty to London." " She will not go," asserted his lordship. Xo?" returned the baronet. "Who, think you, will prevent her? " " Tom Moore, or I am much mistaken," answered Brooking, confidently. " Tut ! " said Sir Percival, incredulously. " You do not give my tact sufficient consideration. I '11 wager the objections Mr. Moore may see fit to make will prove of no a\ ail in influencing the lady. In fact, if I do say it myself, my plans are clever enough to discount the efforts of a dozen bogtr ors. let alone one and he a rhymester. To begin wi I have read und gone in raptures over old Robin 1 >yke's verses. Egad, I have pronounced them beautiful, and really GENTLEMEN OF WEALTH 49 they are not half bad, Brooking. If they were not so crammed with anarchy they would sell in London. The old boy is a socialist, you know. Yes, i' faith, he bastes the Prince and Castlereagh soundly," and this ardent royalist chuckled gleefully at the memory. " Then you have broached the subject to Mr. Dyke? " asked Lord Brooking, as they contmued their stroll in the direction of the schoolhouse. Sir Perci- val nodded his head. " Yes, Brooking, the old scribbler is half persuaded already. I have promised him my support and patron- age in London if he comes." *• And the girl ? " *■ I am tempting Bessie with the promise of a place at Old Drury, where, as you know, I am not with- out influence. Stab me! with her eyes and rosy red cheeks she would need neither paint nor powder to make her an ornament to the boards. Like most clever women, she has ambitions of a histrionic nature. She will come to London, Brooking, and once there! — once there — she is mine, dear lad, she is mine." Brooking's anger and disgust refused to be longer pent up beneath his talm, almost indifferent, demeanor. " What a low scoundrel you are ! " he ejaculated, much to Sir Percival's surprise. The baronet for a moment regarded him quizzically, as though suspicious that this uncomplimentary description of his character was intendec! as a humorous remark, but seeing se- verity in his lordship's face, he smiled pleasantly and refused to take offence. " Don't be so serious, old cock," he drawled, " Earnestness is so tiresome. Ah, life at its best bores me. My friends bore me. Even you, Brooking, bore I i'. 50 TOM MOORE me at times. Toss mc, if I know anytliing that docs not bore me sooner or later." " Sir Percival," said the younfjer jjentleman, " if I whispered one half that yon have said to mc in Tom Moore's ear he would choke the life out of you and sink your body in the pond." "And spoil the drinking water? Well, such treat- ment as you describe would not bore me at all events. 'T would be exciting, even unpleasant, 't is true, but interesting in the extreme, and anything which is not tedious is worthy of all consideration." Brooking laughed, amused in spite of his disapproval. " You are incorrigible," he said. " Permit me to explain my view of the matter," continued Sir Percival, amiably. " By all means, Percy." " This piquant country damsel pleases me rarely. She is a sweet little thing whose view of life is about as comprehensive as that of a day-old kitten. She shall be educated, Brookinf, and I will serve as tutor. You saw me stoop and pluck a primrose from beside the road as we walked this way, did you not? Here it is in my button-hole. This girl is a primrose, Brooking ; I '11 wear her till she is faded, — then, like this wilted blossom, I will toss her aside. And why? Because there are other primroses as fair and sweet, unplucked and unfaded, that grow beside my path farther on, and I like fresh flowers and new faces." This very pretty gentleman helped himself to snuflf, and then beamed benevolently upon his companion. Brooking saw the baronet was in sober earnest in spite of his pleasant manner and humorous tone. A new comprehension of his friend's real character dawned GENTLEMEN OF WEALTH 51 upon his iiiirid. and foi the first time in the long years of their acquaintance and fellowship he was able to strip from the libertine the exterior of the winning and courtly gentleman that had hitherto served to con- ceal his imperfections. In that one moment vanished the affection and admiration the younger man had felt for the elder, leaving only the colder and less exacting friendship existing between men of the same circle in so-, tL^ • ni.s lips. "Almost as sweet and pretty as its --...er. Egad, how tuned in harmony with her own charm are the belongings ot a dainty and tasteful woman. Like the scientists of the Museum who from a bone construct a skeleton, so could I from this little hat draw the portrait of the lady whom it might become." " You are dangerously near sentimentality," said Brooking, as though warning the baronet of peril unperceived. }m:'Wm 54 TOM MOORE 11 r». i iL' Sir Percival laughed. " I sometimes forget that I am no longer a lad of tvvo-and-tvventy, though Heaven knows I lack not reminders. Impossible as it seems, it is nevertheless true that I found a gray hair this morning. A silver messenger from approaching Age. I plucked the ras- cally thing out and breathed more freely when I was rid of it." A knock sounded on the door by which the pair had entered, and Sir Percival, peeking slyly through a convenient window, gave an exclamation of dismay. " Pluck me, Brooking, if it is not old Robin Dyke himself. Devil take the old bore!" Brooking pointed to the other exit. " Perhaps we can escape this way." Sir Percival, followed by his lordship, tiptoed across the room, but before they reached the other door^vay, Mr. Dyke, weary of waiting, entered briskly, and their plan of evasion was abandoned as hastily as it had been adopted. " Why, if it is not Mr. Dyke," cried Sir Percival, cheerily, quite as though he were overjoyed at the meeting. " Good-day to you, sir. I hope it finds you sound in health." Dyke flushed with pleasure at the heartiness of the great gentleman's greeting. He was a plea<5?nt-faced old man, simple and good-hearted, too pre t trust in the honor of others, but erring only by > them credit for benevolence and honesty equal i^ iil. own. He was quite a portly old person, with a face strongly linsd in spite of its placid expression. His hair, worn rather long as became a poet, was a wavy, shimmery gray, and he wa'ked with a rambling sort of gait that ! ! IIHIIII GETS IN TROUBLE SS suggested vaguely a compromise between a stride and a toddle. Sir Percival's quick eye caught sight of a suggestive roll of manuscript sticking out of the new- comer's pocket. " Ah ! " exclaimed the baronet, tapping the paper witli his cane. " I see a paper peeking from your coat, Mr. Dyke. Another poem, I '11 be bound. Come now, sir, out with it. I swear, we will hear it, eh. Brooking ? " " I 'm afraid we will," murmured his lordship be- neath his breath, but he bowed in pleasant assent in reply to the old gentleman's inquiring look. "What?" continued Sir Percival. "Too modest, eh? Then I will read it myself," and, with a gesture gracefully apologetic for the liberty, he drew the roll from Dyke's pocket. " Really, Sir Percival," stammered the old man, in pleased embarrassment. " My poor effort — " " Your poor effort," repeated Sir Percival, scanning the first page through his eyeglass, as he spoke. "If this be his poor effort. Brooking, what would his best be?" " God knows ! " murmured Brooking to himself, " I hate to think of it." Sir Percival's quick ear caught his lordship's mut- tered remark, so, as the flustered poet crossed to the window in hope of obtaining a glimpse of the absent schoolmistress, the baronet turned to Brooking with a laugh. " Perhaps God knows," he whispered, " or perhaps it is better known in the other place. Look at it, Brooking." " Must I ? " replied the younger man, reluctantly. 56 TOM MOORE '• Of course you must," asserted Sir Percival. Then more loudly lie continued : " Genius in every line, and more between them. My dear Dyke, we must have you in England." ''You think so, Sir Percival?" said the old gen- tleman, greatly flattered. " I am sure of it," answered the other as though convinced, returning the poem to its author. " But once you are there, no seditious political versifying hke this. Why, sir, the Prince would foam at the mouth if he saw this. Love lyrics, sir, for the ladies. That must be your game, dear man." Mr. Dyke hardly knew which to regard as the greater compliment, the implication that he had but to txerl himself to write poetry that would be pleas- ing to the fair sex of London, or the assertion that the satire of his latest production was sufficient to cause annoyance even to Royalty itself. Still not quite decided in regard to the matter, he blew his nose rcaound-ngly and modestly replied: " I w ould restrain my opinions, since T cannot change them." Sir Percival winked wickedly at Brooking to draw the latter':; attention to his next remark. " Have you thought over my proposal, Mr, Dyke?" " I have given it much deliberation," answered that worthy, in a tone that but ill concealed the delight occasioned him by the mere suggestion of such an idea. "Well. Mr. Dyke?" " I feel most favorably inclined, I must confess," replied the old gentleman. ■■ .Ah! " said Sir Percival, in an undertone to Lord Brooking, "d'ye hear that, lad? He must confess." GETS IN TROUBLE 57 '* I wish you had to, Percy. It would save me trouble." " Then it is decided ? " said Sir Percival, looking triumphantly at his friend. Uyke hesitated. " No," he said, " not exactly decided. It now rests with my daughter. If she agrees with me, I will be pleased to do as you have suggested." "Then Bessie shall say ' Yes, " responded the baronet. Chancing to look otit the window at this moment, Sir Percival caught a glimpse of a familiar figure passing on a path running near the schoolhouse. "What, what?" he laughed. "There goes young Farrell. Who is the petticoat in tow?" " That is his .sister Winnie," replied Mr. Dyke, peering through his glasses. " A nice girl, Sir Per- cival, with a proper admiration for literature." " Too dumpy, by far," responded that gentleman, surveying the lady with anything but approval. " By the way. I 've something to say to Terence. Brook- ing, while I run after them, you may tell Mr. Dyke your opinion of his poetry." And hastening to the door, the baronet gave chase to the couple, already at quite a distance. .\t this moment Farrell chanced to look around and. beholding the approaching macaroni, halted his com- panion and stoc'd waiting, his sister feeling quite giddy with the thought of meeting so great a beau as Sir Percival. " I '.e a word or two to say that may interest you, Terence, if you can spare me a moment," began the baronet. 5« TOM MOORE mr^ ^ " My time is quite at your disposal, Sir Percival," replied Farrtll. " Permit me to present you to my sister.' Sir Percival bowed with graceful formalitv. '* La, Mistress FarrcH," he sighed, prettily, your father is indeed fortunate. With such a son and such a daughter his old age should be crowned with hap- piness and content. " " Father finds much to criticise." said the girl. " I fe,-\r he takes no such flattering view of his children as you insinuate he should." "Criticise?" reix-atcd Sir Percival in a tone of astonishment. " What can he wish for ^ " " Much, if one may judge from his complaints." answered Winnie, not a little puffed up bv the baronet's condescension anr' approval. " I '11 not keep you from yf)ur business with my prattle, sir. Terence, I will go on to Mrs. McCloud's and stop for you at the school- house on my way back." " You are most amiable. Mistress Farrell," said Sir Percival. gratefully. The girl courtesied in what she hoped was a good imitation of the London manner, and continued on her way. leaving the two gentlemen to stroll toward the schoolhousc. "Well, Sir Percival, '^aid Farrell knowingly, "what is afoot? " As he spoke he gave rh* baronet a searching look, which drew forth a pleasant smile by way of answer. " You never lose tim^ getting to the point." "Except when it's a sw^^fd;" replied Farrell. ''Then I can be devilish slow." GETS IN TROUBLE 59 Sir Percival's face wore a pensive look as he re- garded his friend. •' For a country squire you present a wonderfully fashionable appearance," he remarked, his eye travel- ling approvingly from the bell-crowned beaver on the youth's well-shaped head to the carefully tied stock and thence to the immaculately polished boots which ornamented feet both small and neatly turned. " Your costume would not be out of place on Pall Mall, Terence." With characteristic cunning the courtier had detected young Farrell's weak point. The youthful Irishman's fondest wish was that he might some day be acknowl- edged as a beau in no less a place than London itself ; a city which dictated fashion to the rest of the kmg- dom. drawing its own inspiration from the finicky fancy of George Brummell, now at the height of his power as dictator of society. Farrell flushed with pleasure at Sir Percival's com- mendation. '• !• faith." he answered, " even in Ireland we are not entirely lacking in taste." •' No. not entirely," observed the baronet. " And the cards. Terence? Does Fortune smile upon you these days ? " • t •• Not so frequently as my pocket demands, sir. To tell tiie truth. I 've played in most villainous luck this last week." *• Then possibly you would regard the opportiimty to earn one hundred pounds with favoring eye?" "Would I? Try me, Sir Percival," answered Farreli eagerly. •• Very well, Terence," replied the baronet, " but 6o TOM MOORE whether you accept or refuse my proposition you bind yourself as an honorable man to repeat to no one what I shall suggest ? " '* Of course," answered Farrell. " You may confide in me, Sir Percival." " I have work for that infernally clever brain of yours. One hundred pounds if you will devise a scheme that parts Bessie Dyke from this Tom Moore who annoys me." It cannot be said that Farrell was astonished at the words of Sir Percival. Nevertheless, that such a great and clever man should consider it advisable to obtain assistance in outwitting so comparatively rustic an in- dividual as Tom Moore, was, in the youth's eves, rather a damaging admission of weakness. At least so he regarded it, for the moment not realizing that to a gentleman of large fortune it was far more satis- factory to busy another's brain than to greatly exert his own, even though the result of the latter might be more pleasing in the end. "One hundred pounds," repeated Sir Percival, languidly. " But Tom Moore is my friend." " Ah ! " said the baronet, " in that case one hundred and one pounds." Farrell laughed a little. " Very well. Sir Percival." said he, " I will under- take to earn the sum you mention. I must admit the airs and graces with which Moore sees fit to conduct himself are extremely offensive to me. His manner is one of extreme condescension, and more than once I have felt myself to be upon the verge of resenting it." " Then," said the baronet, " it is agreed ? " GETS IN TROUBLE 61 Farrell nodded pleasantly. *' How will you do it?" " Easily. Sir Percival. You leave the affair to me and I '11 fix it so Bessie Dyke will never look at Tom Moore again." ^^ *' If you succeed, I Ml make it one hundred and fifty.' •' Ah." said Farrell. lifting the latch of the school- house door, " I like dealing with you. Sir Percival." At almost the same moment Bessie Dyke entered at the opposite side. Sir Percival bowed in his most courtly manner. " Here is the missing damsel at last," he .said. Moore pushed the half-closed door open and stepped in. bucket in hand. " There is more to follow," he announced, setting his burden in an out-of-the-way comer as he spoke. "More?" echoed Sir Percival, questioningly. " Yes, Tom Moore." " A villainous ptm, upon my honor." " A I in upon your honor might well be such," said Moore, coming forward. Sir Percival allowed an expression of surprise to pass over his handsome face. " Egad." he said, gently, as though in veiled won- derment. " Wit. and from such a source." " ;\ sauce of wit makes game more savory," returned M(K>rc, not at all irritated at the baronet's accent of superiority. ' And I know your game," he added in an undertone. "Indeed?" " In deed and in thought, t.x>." answered Moore, checrfulh'. " You will not succeed, my g^xxl sir." "Will you prcw-nt me, Mr. Moore?" 62 TOM MOORE " I fancy so, Sir Percival." The baronet raised his voice, so that the conversa- tion, hitherto inaudible to the others, who were chis- tered at the side of the room, could be easily heard. He did this intending to overwhehn this youth, whom he despised both as a rustic and as an Irishman, with the apt and stinging wit that had made him famous even in London drawing-rooms accustomed to the sparkling sallies and epigrams of Sheridan and Rogers. He regarded the conversational defeat of Moore as an easy task, and proceeded to attempt it with a confidence born of many hard-fouglst victories won in the bril- liantly flippant circle surrounding the Prince of Wales, a society that could only be described as pyrotechni- cally witty. " I understand that you write poetry. Mr. Moore." " But you would not understand the poetry I write." " But I might bu>- some of it. I am not over partic- ular as to merit, you see." " I am very particular, you see, to whom I sell." " Why ? " demanded Sir Percival, taking snuff with a graceful flourish. " Because I write for the masses and classes, not for the asses," replied Moore, as pleasantly as though paying a delicate compliment to the nobleman. Sir Percival recognized that the f.rst point had been scored by his hitherto despised rival, and rallied gamely, as became a gentleman oi blood and breeding. "That last accounts for your unpopularity with your fellow-countrymen," he suggested. "Oh, they are not the asses i alluded to, Sir Percival." " Perhaps you intended that for me, then ? " GETS IN TROUBLE 6.1 " Does a fellow feeling make you wondrous kind? " asked Moore, innocently. " Hum. Rather clever, Moore." said Sir Percival, planning a particularly nasty retort, which he was prevented from delivering by Bessie's approach. " How is my little schoolmistress to-day?" he said, winningly, to the girl. Moore, loath to relinquish his victory, decided to continue the battle of wits, and thus brought about his undoing in the moment of his triumph. " Your little schoolmistress? " he repeated. " Have you become a scholar. Sir Percival ? " " To be taught by Mistress Dyke, I would become anything." " Except honest," suggested Moore. " Sir ! " exclaimed his rival, angrily. " Why, sir, if you are honest already, there is surely no need of change." "He had you there, Percy," said Lord Brooking, joining the group. •' On the contrary. Brooking, Mistress Dyke has me here," replied Sir Percival, his anger cooled. " We al) have our troubles." observed Moore, plain- tively, " even Mistress Dyke." This was the baronet's opportunity, and he made good use of it. " Egad," he drawled. " have you been reading your own poetry, Mr. Moore?" Bessie laughed merrily as Moore tasted the bitter- ness of defeat and allowed himself to be led away to the organ by Lord Brooking. " A song, Mr. Moore. I 've heard such reports of your oinging that I am more than eager to listen to 64 TO^^ MOORE ; '■% one of vcur ballads. Mr. Dyke and our friend Farrell Join me in the request." " But. my lord," objected Moore, castinc: an inquir- ing j,dancc towards where Sir Pcrcival is talkinj^ glibly to the little schoolmistress, " I — cr — reallv I "m not in voice to-d. y." " Nonsen.se I " said his lordship. " We will not be denied, Mr. Moore." " Then since I 'm not Saint Peter, I "11 have to yield What shall it be?" A short discussion followed at the orjjan. and when this had been .settled by Dyke and Farrell choosinfj " The Shamrock," Moore, calmly paviiijr ,10 attention to such a detail as that, proceeded to sinjij his latest poem, written only that morning in honor of Sir Percival. Nothing could have been more to the poiu. for at this very moment the baronet was urging the girl to ratify her parent's decision in regard to the proposed move to London, painting foi her in vivid words what a successful career at Drury Lane Theatre would mean, at the same time dwelling upon her father's opportunity for advancement as poet and scholar. " Oh ! weep for the hour, When to flvtlceii's bower The I,ord of ihe Valley with false vows came; The mo'-ri iiid her light From the heavens that night. And wept behind her clouds o'er the maiden's shame. " The clouds passed soon From the chaste cold moon, And heaven smiled again with her vestal flame ; But none will see the day When ihe clouds shall pass away, Which thai dark hour Ic"^* i![.on Evelcen's fame. GETS IN T R O U B L i: 65 " The white snow lay On the narrow prithway When the 1-ord of the Valley crost OTcr the moor ; And many a deep print On the white snow's tint Showed the track of his footsteps to Eveleen's door. "The next sun's ray Soon melted away Every trace on the path where the false Lord came j Hut there's a light above Which alone can remove That stain upon the snow of fair Eveleen's fame." Moore's voice died away melodiously in the last plaintive note. " A very pretty sonjj, Mr. Moore. It tells a beauti- ful story and points a splendid moral." said Lord Brooking. '• Yes, my lord." answered Moore, glancing toward Bessie. " It shows the folly of a poor girl in believing aught told her by a nobleman. It is as true nowadays as it was then." ■' Oh. Tom." said the girl, tremulously. " It is beautiful. Is it not. Sir Percival?" " Oh. very, very." replied the baronet. " Extremely so. I congratulate you. Mr. Moore." " Have you reason to do so, Sir Percival ? " asked Moore. His question was answered immediately, for Bessie turned toward the gentleman addressed. " I thank you. Sir Percival." she said. " but I fear London is not for such as father and me." As Moore gave a sigh of relief and turned away, satisfied that he had foiled the baronet in his attempt to entice Bessie from Ireland, Farrell touched him on the arm and led him to one side. 5 ■,-.1 mmmm MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I.I 1 50 "™=^ 'm ■ 3.6 |40 t 2.5 12.2 ZO 1.8 ^ APPLIED IM/1GE 1*^53 t"Gst Mo^n Street Rocheste.-, Ne* York 14609 uSA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5939 - Fa« 66 TOM MOORE 1 9? 3 r ft " Will you meei me here, Tom, in half an hour? " he asked. "Is it important, Terry?" demanded Moore, who in- tended to devote the rest of the afternoon to courting Bessie. " It may mean money enough to start you in London." " The devil ! " exclaimed the poet. " I '11 meet you then, for to London I am bound to go, sooner or later." At this moment Lord Brooking, who had been chat- ting in a corner with Mr. Dyke, came forward, fol- lowed by the old gentle lan. "Sir Percival," said his lordship, a malicious twinkle in his eye, " Mr. Dyke has invited us to try a little wine of his own manufacture. You will be charmed, I know." " A rare variety of grape, Sir Percival," said Mr. Dyke, delightedly. " In fact, I venture to assert that you have never tasted such a vintage." " Very likely not, Mr. Dyke,"' replied Sir Percival, quite convinced that such was the case, and not at all sure that he might not regard himself as favored by fortune on that account. "You will honor me? " asked Mr. Dyke, eagerl). Sir Percival saw he could not refuse without wound- ing the pride of his would-be host, and therefore yielded politely. "I shall be delighted, I am sure," he answered. Then, lowering his voice, he murmured in Brooking's ear: " I owe you one, my lord." Brooking laughed and took the baronet's arm. ' Hi, GETS IN TROUBLE 67 " Come, then," said he, pointing to the door with his walking-stick. " Perhaps Mr. Dyke will read us another poem," said Sir Percival, hopefully. " Heaven forbid ! " whispered his lordship. "Could anything be more appropriate?" continued the baronet. " We drink the wine pressed from our friend's own grapes, while we listen to the poetry his muse has sipped from the fountain of the gods upon Parnassus." " You should write poetry. Sir Percival," said Mr. Dyke, much flattered. " I '11 leave that to Mr. Moore," answered the baro- net, advancing towards Bessie. " There are several other things I wish you would leave to me," said the poet. " No doubt," replied Sir Percival. " My arm, Mistress Dyke ? " " I m St decline that honor," said Bessie. " My duties require me to remain here for a while longer." " I am sorry for that. Mistress Dyke. You will join us, Mr. Moore?" " I never drink. Sir Percival." replied Moore, en- deavoring to look virtuous without much success. " Indeed ? " said the baronet. " You had better begin, sir. Then perhaps you would write less poetry." Moore failed to find a suitable retort, and therefore mounted the little platform on which stood the black- board, as Mr. Dyke, Lord Brooking, and Farrell moved towards the door. " Mistress Dyke," said Sir Percival, " if you can 68 TOM MOORE Hi spare a thought this afternoon, perhaps vou will LonLT"'' reconsidering , our decision 'in r^d lo " ^ have quite made up my mind, thank vou " an- wered Bess.e. dusting oflf her desk with h r Iron ^Sunp,™^ " Brains and beauty arc made welcome evervwhere " answered the baronet. " Moreover, it is a won a,t's pnvdege to change her mind " 1 he - the arithmetic is very difficult for to-morrow and I must be prepared for the lesson " ' Moore helped himself to a piece of chalk, and becan figuring on the blackboard. ^ "What are you doing?" asked Sir Percival evinr^ the poet through his glass. ^ ^ "I am preparing the arithmetic," replied Moorr marking a huge six upon the board. Then turl^ two-re-Tou^'^"- '-''-' -'' '^ ''^^ upon h- C-s^ '"''"'' °' ^" '" ""''''^ -'' '-^--^^ t.;:":;:tl:^i':;:rzt;^^^^ afternoon, gentlemen " '^- ^'"^'^ " '^^^ '"'" "«^ better," said Moore. " He who \ >^-5 GETS IN TROUBLE 69 laughs last laughs best. Delay it as long as you can, and you will enjoy it the more." " No doubt, Mr. Moore. Good afternoon to you, Mistress Dyke. Sir, I 'ni your most obedient."' " Good-day, Sir Percival," said Bessie, dropping a courtesy as the baronet turned again at the door. Then, as his tall figure vanished from the threshold, she faced her lover with a little sigh of relief. " Tom," she said reprovingly, " you must not speak as you do to Sir Percival. For a little while I feared you would have a real quarrel." " Perhaps that would be the easiest way out of it, after all," said Moore, belligerently. " I 'd ask nothing better than to get a chance at him." " I can't have you fighting with every stranger that ?omes to Ireland, Tom," said Bessie, assuming that .•ilight air of proprietorship that is so soothing to an ?ager lover, implying as it does a regard not only of the present moment, but apparently keeping in sight possibilities of the future. Moore felt this subtle influence and yielded to it gradually. " Thanks be to St. Patrick, they are gone at last," said he in a sulky tone. '' Now you can do your arithmetic." " Tom, you are cross," said Bessie, reproachfully. " This is what I get for staying here to please you." " What was Sir Percival saying to you so confiden- tially just now? " " He was coaxing mp to go to London." " I knew it," cried Moore, an!;rily. " I '11 do that gay lad an injury if he keeps on." " Hush, Tom," said Bessie, reprovingly. m If V 70 TOM MOORE "1 11 punfsh him terribly if he don't let you alone " ^^Bess.e se.ed hi™ by the a™ and compel tZto •■Ton, de." she asked, "what unll you do?- h™, .f he~d n tTZ'-::T\°lr ""^^ '° "soy"' 'llTt ITjiV ^''"''°'''' '^"Shed Bessie, soyc " let h,m off this time, won't you, Tom >•• You promise you will not go Bessie ''"..t ) Moore, earnestly, taking her hands^ta his ""''' 1 promise that while you are as trii,! ,„h i,- j you have been to-dav r •!?„„. , . '"^ '""'' "^ she mswered soberty, ""' "'" """" °' " ^«-"." " True ? " repeated Moore, tenderlv " wu, *e. Let that comfort you. Terry." '* That is not all, Tom. I am poorer than you are, and I have a debt of honor of fifty pounds due to- morrow." "Whew!" ejaculated More, in astonishment. " Well, whose fault is that " Yours, Tom," replied T rcll, boldly. " Mine? How the devil can tlv..t be? " asked Mo i\, leaning against the desk for comfort and support. '• It is very ;.imple. I thought you were sweet an Winni. " Me? Never! " cried Moore. " Not for a fraction of a minute. Not that Winnie is n't a dear girl, for none knows that she is such bcucr than I. but we would never do for a couple." "Unfortunately I thought otherwise," responded Farrell. " That is the trouble." " You interest me very much," said the poet, helping himself to a seat on the desk. " Go on with your tale of woe." " I was so sure of it," contin. I Farrell, ' that I bet Lieutenant Cholmon.kiy >ou would propose to her before the first of the month." " A nice perfc . n mce." c minentcd Moore, swinging his feet. " Then . nat ? " "Arbuckle heard me, and, like a sneak, went off quietly and asked Winnie the next day." " And was accepted ? Serves him right, Terry." " But the bet stands," persisted Farrell. sorrowfully. " And to-morrow is the first of the month. I have n't a penny to pay Cholmonde'y-" 78 TOM MOORE w ij " It is too bad, Terry," replied Moore, sympathet- ically, " but you should never have made such a bet. It shows lack of respect for Winnie. At least some people would think so, though I am sure you never meant to convey any such impression." " I thou^fht you might help me," said Farrell, dis- consolately. " Can't you, Tom ? " " I have n't quarter the money, Terry." " But you are wanting to go to London, are n't you ? Remember you aren't supposed to know Winnie is promised." " True." "Then, why can't you ask her ?rid be refused? C'.olmondely would pay me the money, and there would be fifty pounds to divide between us, for I '11 give you half if you help me out of the scrape." Moore frowned. " That would n't be honest, Terry," he said s. verely. " Was it fair for Arbuckle to propose before the first, knowing, as he did. that I had till then to win?"' demanded Farrell, in an injured tone. " No," said Moore, " it was n't, though, of course, if he had waited a thousand years, I would n't have proposed in sober earnest." " But you '11 do it in fun ? " " She is already engaged ? " " She is crazy over the captain," said Farrell, en- thusiastically. " Then she would be sure to refuse me." "She would, and, Tom, you'll have saved my honor," said Farrell, pleadingly. It is a shame for Cholmondely to get your money and Arbuckle your sister. I '11 do it to oblige you. GETS IN TROUBLE 79 Terry," said Moore, " but I want none of your win- nings. What I do is to help you out of a bad scrape, for friendship's sake, my lad." " How can I thank you, Tom ? " said Farrell, in- wardly exultant, but to all appearance almost over- come at his friend's willingness to come to the rescue. " By being more careful in the future about your betting," said Moore, kindly. As he spoke he drew nearer the window and caught a glimpse of Mistress Farrell approaching. " By the powers, here comes Winnie i; v," he ex- claimed. " True for you, Tom, and headed this way." " Now you get out of here, Terry, and we will have my rejection over with at once. I '11 be through in a jiffy." " Don't be too precipitate or she will suspect some- thing," advised Farrell. " Leave it to me," said Moore. " You stand just outside the door there and you can listen to it all. Oh, it will be fine, Terry." " Say, ' Will you have nn' ? ' Tom," said Terence, going to the door opposite to the one which his sister was now approaching. " Don't try to teach me," said Moore. " It 's myself that 's to do this proposing, and I need no instruction. All you have to do is to listen. Don't go away now." " Not I," said Terence. " I won't be easy till it 's over," and, laughing under his breath, he shut the door. Truly fortune favored him this day, for coming up the hill was Bessie, not more than a moment or 80 Us- ,■:''.>(■ : TOM MOORE two behind Winnie Farrell, who by this time had entered the school. ^ " Good-day. to you. Winnie," said Moore, politely, ^ure, It IS blooming you are this afternoon. Like a whole bouquet of blossoms, let alone a single flower." " Winnie looked pleased at the compliment and smiled upon its bestower. " How gallant you are to-day," she said in a flattered tone. " Oh, I said it this day, but I thuik it all the week " replied Moore, placing a stool for the lady. J* Where is Terence?" she asked, seating herself. lie promised to wait for me here." "I expect him back in a little while," replied Moore casting a furtive glance in the direction of the door behind which he believed his friend to be concealed ^ou can wait for him, Winnie. I haven't seen much of you lately." " You know the road that leads to Farrell's Tom " said the girl with a laugh. She was a plump little morsel with a soft voice, and a saucv tip-tilted nose • a pleasant, generous-hearted little soul, decidedly good to look upon. • "I have not forgotten the road." said Moore, mean- ingly. " Then, why don't you come to see me' " "For fear that I would n't be as welcome ar Contain Arbuckle. said Moore, trying to look knowing. Winnie looked surprised. "Captain Arbuckle?" she said, wonderingly "What do you mean?" ^^ " You know what I mean, Winnie." GETS I N TROU BLE 8i " No, I don't, Tom." "You do, too, you artless creature," said Moore, laughing. " What are you driving at, Tom ? " asked Winnie, genuinely puzzled, " At you, Winnie, dear," replied Moore, and then, conscious that his courage was rapidly leaving him, he proceeded desperately with his performance. " Winnie Farrell, I love you." " What ? " cried the girl, rising from the stool. " I love you, Winnie, Say you won't marry mc," said Moore, relieved that he had finished. His satis- faction lasted only a moment for Winnie threw her arms around his neck with a little, joyous cry. " Tom," she whispered. " I '11 be your wife gladly, for I *ve loved you for weeks." "What?" cried Moore. "Oh. Winnie, you are only joking? You don't mean it, Winnie ? You don't, do you ? " Bessie gave a little sob. She had quietly opened the door in time to hear Moore's declaration, and, thunderstruck, had stood there, unperceived until now. Winnie, abashed at Bessie's look of scorn and hatred, did not linger. The door closed behind her, and Moore, just beginning to realize his predicament, stood facing his angered sweetheart. " Bessie," he said, chokingly. " Bessie, I can explain." " I do not wish you to explain," she answered, her voice all a-tremble. " Hear me, Bessie," he began, desperately, but she turned a deaf ear to his words. 82 TOM MOORE " I '11 never believe you again, Tom Moore," she said, flinging from her bosom the rose he had given her. " I am done with you. Then, turning, she closed the door in his face, and left him. '','.'< iftWft jm.'-^it,^ 'mem^ti' Book Two " Nnv hope may bloom^ And days may come Of milder^ calmtr beam^ But there ^s nothing half so sweet in lift As Love's young dream : No, there 's nothing half so sweet in life As Love's young dream." .i'«v"r;?ir«BKi:«trif?/3ft\ :»s ^Wfi* y', if r - ■A ^i Chapter Eight INTRODUCES MONTGOMERY JULIEN ETHELBERT S PINKS IN the attic of an old house in Holywell Street, London, a frowsy-headed, freckl^-d- faced youth was peering from the gabled window that fronted on the busy thoroughfare below. This lad was con spicuous for his lack of beauty. He had a round jolly face, a turned-up and rather negatively developed nose, and eyes of a neutral shade that might be described as gray or green with equal correctness. His mouth was capable of stretching to a length almost awe-inspiring when first beheld, but could be forgiven for tliis ex- travagance, because the teeth thus exposed were white and regular. His chin was square and slightly protrud- ing, imparting a rather pugnacious expression to a face that ill other respects seemed to indicate that its owner was of a decidedly good-humored disposition. He was stockily built, so thick-set, in fact, that a quick glance would incline one to the belief that he was rather plump than otherwise, but a closer examination would have revealed that he owed his size to the possession of an unusual amount of bone and muscle. This young gentleman rejoiced in the sobriquet of Buster, though his real title was m.uch more elegant, while lacking entirely m the almost epigrammatic terseness of his nickname. At the present time he 86 TOM MOORE hi 'I was anxiously waiting for the approach of an old- clothesman who was slowly making his way down the street, meanwhile inviting trade at the top of his lungs. Buster and the old-clothesman were acquaintances of long standing, though their relations were by no means of a friendly nature, the eagerness with which the boy awaited the man's coming being caused entirely by a desire to drbp a paper bag full of water upon the latter's head from the height of three stories, a proceeding which Buster was sanguine would be pro- ductive of reason for unlimited merriment. He had the bag, empty as yet, clutched tightly in one hand, while the other was within easy reach of a cracked pitcher full of water standing on the floor near the window. A disreputable-looking bulldog, impartially divided as to color between brindle and dirty white, was inspecting proceedings in a most interested man- ner from his seat on a rickety stool in the nearest corner. Buster sighed with impatience and the dog yawned in sympathy. " Lord Castlereagh, your rudeness is honly hex- ceeded by your himperliteness, the both of wich is hui.surpassed save by your bad manners. You should put your bloomin' paw hup before that 'ole in your phis'omy when you sees fit to hexhibit your inards." Lord Castlereagh cocked one dilapidated ear in token of attention and wagged his apology for a tail vigorously. " You feels no remorse, eh ? " demanded Buster, severely. " Woof ! " remarked Lord Castlereagh, in exten- uation. :-L^\.^ ;i. MONTGOMERY SPINKS 87 " You *re a sinner, that 's wot you are," announced the boy, decisively, " and Hi 'as grave fear that you '11 never git to the dog-star when you are disceased." The bulldog seemed depressed at this prediction, and, as though resolved to convince Buster of the injustice of his statement, leaped off the stool and approached him with various contortions supposed to be illustrative of regret and a desire to obtain resto- ration to a place in the youth's approval. At this moment the old-clothesman paused beneath the window, and putting his hand trumpet-wise to his mouth, shrilly declared his ability and willingness to purchase whatever cast-off garments those dwelling in the vicinity might desire to sell. Buster promptly filled the paper bag with water from the pitcher, and, leaning out as far as he dared, dropped it with precise aim on the head of the old-clothesman. It landed fair and square upon the crown of the dilapidated beaver ornamenting his head, and burst with a soft squash, drenching his shoulders and scattering a spray all around him. The dealer uttered a stream of oaths, and, mopping his face with a handkerchief of dubious hue, looked around for the author of tl is apparently unprovoked attack. As the missile had come from above, the fel- low naturally looked upward in search of an enemy, but found nothing more suspicious in view than the head of a bulldog v>hich was thrust from a window in dignified contemplation of the scene. Unfortunately the old-clothesman was well acquainted with the forbidding countenance of the dog, and promptly attributing his recent ducking to the usual companion of the animal, proceeded to vigorously announce his ,^ XSSS^ mm mmmm 88 TOM MOOR ] '. 1'^ 'I f 31 doubts as to the respectability of Buster's immediate ancestry and his subsequent intentions when he should be so lucky as to encounter the aforesaid youth. It is almost needless to say that these plans for the future were scarcely of a nature to meet with the boy's ap- proval, involviiip: as they did complete fistic annihila- tion. At once the head of Buster appeared in the wmdow, an expression uf surprise lighting his round face only to give way to one of gentle gratification when his eye fell upon the irate peddler. " Did Hi 'ear some one metuioning of my name?" he demanded pleasantly. " Oh, 'ow do you do, Mr. Bekowsky? His your 'ealth bloomin'?" " I 'II hl(X)m you, you imperent little villain," re- sponded Bekowsky, threateningly, shaking his fist in his anger. " Wot 's that, dear sir? " inquired Buster, in a polite tone. "You seems hexcited, Mr. Bekowsky. Hits very dangersome to get so over'eated, hand the summer his 'ardly went yet." " I '11 overheat you if I lays my hands on you," responded the old-clothesman. '■ Then Hi "'' 'ave to be a cooHng of you fer protec- tion," announced Buster, cheerfully, and without the slightest warning he emptied the contents of the pitcher he iiad been concealing behind him over the enraged Bekowsky, arcnching him thoroughly. " Cool happlications is to be recommended when feverish," he remarked, carefully lowering the pitcher to the floor of the room without withdrawing his head from the window, for, like all wise g ;nerals, he con- sidered it unsafe to lose sight of the enemy even for a "' moment while the rear was unprotected. MONTGOMERY S P I N .C S 89 " You murdering little devil, I '11 pay you for this," yelled the peddler. "Hat the usual rates, hor special price?" asked Buster, looking interested. A crowd began to gather, but this did not ih.crfere with the boy's pleasure in the slightest degree. " It "s that little ft again," said a red-faced, bull- headed cobbler. " He 's the pest of the neighborhood." " You houghtent to let your disapintmciit carry you so far, Mr. Smirk," said lUister, reprovingly. " 'Cause your shoes don't just suit my cultivated taste in the way of feet, it don't follow nobody hclse '11 buy 'cm. They 're doosed poor stufT, o' course, but no doubt there is some foolish enough to wear 'em." The cobbler cursed him enthusiastically, and, en- couraged by this support, the bespattered Hckowsky borrowed a rattan of a bystander, and -nnounced his intention of favoring Buster with a call, for the pur- pose of inflicting a castigation which he described as much needed. " Well, well ! " exclaimed the lad, who was to be thus favored. "Ham I to be so honored? Why did n't you let hit be known before, .so Hi could pervide refreshments suitable for sucli a gue.st ? " " I '11 be up there in a minute," answered Bekowsky, flourishing his stick. " Hi can 'ardly wait so long. Har you a-going to bring your missus?" inquired Buster, quite unintim- idated. " Hi understands that common report says she is the best fighter in the family. Did she lick you last night, Hikey?" This last was too much to be endured, so with an- olLcr volley of oaths, the iniurialeu ^jeddler took a 'J n 90 TOM MOORE i ?M firm gnp on the rattan and entered the hall, the door of wh.ch stood invitingly open. The rabble assembled in front of the house gave a cheer and waited eagerly for developments. Meanwhile Buster continued to survey the crowd below with a critical glance, quite obhv.ous to the danger brought near by the approach of t e peddler A „„„utc passed and then another, but the boy was still looking out the window, so it was mdent that Dckowsky had not yet reached the garret. i he crowd began to get uneasy. " Were the 'ell is the blooni'in' ragbag gone ter?" asked one seedy ii..lividual. •' Don't 'e know 'ee 's keeping us gents waiting? " ^^ '' Don't get himpaticnt. friends," advised Buster. Bekowsky s lost '.s wind a,ul the 'all is so dark he can t see fer to find hit. Hi Ml send 'im a bu o' candle m a minute to 'cip 'im." '' He has fell and busted his neck, mavbe." suggested a butcher s apprentice, in a tone that .seemed to fdicate he wot, d not regard such a happening entirely in the light of a calamity. " P^^haps 'i.s 'art 'as been touched hand 'ee can't bear to lay ',s 'and in hanger on a poor horphing like me said Bu.ster. almost tearful at the thought of such tenderness. '. Perhaps 'ee 'as a noble natur'e hin sp o that ornble phisomy." do'or^Hk^^h- -T" ""'T h congregating in front of nne door like this ? cried a harsh voice, flavored by a rich Milesian accent. ^ .u'.^l^'l ^?'- ^^^^°"^'" exclaimed Buster. " Hi'me Malone. ' '' '' ''^'" '°" '"• ^^^"^^ ^^^^^ -^' Mrs A burly Irishwoman, dressed in her best bib and MONTGOMERY SPINKS 91 tucker, as becomes a lady out niakiiiK a few neighborly calls, elbowed her way through the crowd, sternly exhorting them to disperse. " Oh, it 's you, you satan ? " she remarked wratli- fully, gazing up at the freckled CDuntenatice of the lad. " Wot slienaiiigans have you been up to now ? " ' Hi can't discuss my bizness hin front of a vulgar mob," responded Buster, loftily. " Hif you '11 come hup, Mrs. Malone. Hi '11 be pleased to hinform you. Hotherwise Hi '11 be forced to maintain an 'aughty silence." " Oh, I '11 come up alright," declared Mrs. Malone, bent on getting to the bottom of the trouble at once. " Hi 'opes .so," replied Buster, doubtfully. " Shall Hi come to meet you?" " Never mind." " Hi don't mind, Mrs. Malone. ' Mrs. Malone vanished in the hall and proceeded upstairs at so rapid a gait that she failed to perceive on the dimly lighted stairway the figure of Bekowsky, who had been brought to a standstill by the sudden appearance of lord Castlereagh fighting array at the head of the siairs. The dog so strongly resented any movement, whether up or down, on the part of the old-clothesman, that that individual had remained stationary, not daring to stir a foot in either direction until Mrs. Malci.e collided with him, forcing him to advance upv/ard on hu hands and knees several steps, a performance that brought Lord Castlereagh leaping down upon him. Bekowsky gave one yell of terror and flew down the stairs in three bounds, the dog yelping furiously at his heels, while Mrs. Malone escaped a bad faU only by i 'Wh !^^ 92 TOM MOORE hanging on to the banisters, against which she had backed herself in an effort to regain the breath rudely expelled from her lungs by the collision. •• lUister, you oniadhaun, what devil's work is this? " gasped Mrs. Malune, as Lord Castlercagh disappeared below. Receiving no answer, the good woman prudently decided to abandon her visit to the garret until the bull- dog should have returned to his domicile, leaving the stairs free from peril, and therefore turned her steps to her own headquarters on the floor beneath. If m. Chapter Nine TOM MOORE RECEIVES CALLS FROM MRS. M J LONE AND MR. DTKE MEANWHILE Lord Castlereagh, having failed to overtake the terror-stricken old- clothesman before the lower door was reached, discreetly abandoned the pursuit, as experi- ence had taught him it was not best for a bulldog to engage in public altercations when not accompanied by his master. So he came trotting upstairs, beaming with doggish good nature, the result of a gratifying realization of duty well done. As the door to the room from the window of which Buster was still sur- veying the rapidly diminishing throng clustered in front of the house was closed, the bulldog scratched vigorously with his claws for admittance, his request being speedily gratified, for, in spite of the old-clothes- man's voluble explanations, the crowd refused to re- gard him as anything but a defeated contestant and, turning ?. deaf ear to his indignation, quietly dispersed to their various afifairs, leaving Buster a complete victor in the recent battle. " You done noble, Lord Castlereagh," said Buster, approvingly, at the same time seating himself upon one of the rickety chairs with which the attic was fur- nished. The comfort of this seat was immediately increased by his tipping it back on its rear legs, balance 94 TOM MOORE tl. m .Ti.L being maintained by the elevation of his feet to the top of the table near by. This was the lad's favorite position, but his enjoyment was speedilv eclipsed by disaster, as the bulldog, for the moment'quite carried away with exultation at his master's unqualified com- mendation made a violent eflfort to climb up in that worthy's lap, a manoeuvre resulting in both going over backwards with a crash. ^^ "You willain! " ejaculated the boy, in great disgust. Wot do you I'nnk Hi am ? A hacro-a-bat, or wot? " Lord Castlereagh apologized violentlv with his stumpy tail and seemed quite overwhelmed'with regret "Has you means well, Hi forgives vou, sir," said the Buster, rubbing his elbow, '• but don't never turn no more flipflops in partnership wid .Montgomery Juhen Hethelbert Spinks, Esquire, or you may hex- pect your walking papers. Hundcrstand ? " Then, as Buster regained his feet, he remembered his master was in the adjoining bedroom asleep ^ " My heye," he muttered. " We must 'ave disturbed im, hand 'im so tired and discouraged, too." He listened for a moment, then, reassured bv the silence reigning in the next room, nodded his head in ■atisfaction. ^ "'He's still asleep," he remarked to the dog Dreaming no doubt. Hof wot, Hi wonders? Pub- lishers? Not much, or 'ce 'd be a cussin'. Hof that aughty dame hover at Drury Lane, who won't kiss and make hup? That 's hit, I '11 bet. Well, this his n't pohshin' 'is boots, his it. Pupsy ? " Seizing a brush from the table, the bov began to rub a dilapidated topboot vigorously, meanwhile humming in cheerful discord a verse of a song, as vet unknown MRS. MALONE AND MR. DYKE 95 to the general public, but destined to become a perma- nent favorite with all lovers of music and poetry. •' Twas the last rose hof summer left bloomink alone." A knock on the door interrupted his song, but before he could reply to it, in marched Mrs. Malonc with arms akimbo, and a determined expression making grave a face naturally good humored. " Oh, hit 's you, his it ? " said Buster, regarding the woman with disapproving eye. " I suppose you t'ought it was the Prince of Wales,"' replied Mrs. Malone. " No, Hi didn't, 'cos w'y? 'Cos 'is Royal 'Ighncss never hopens the door till Hi says come hin. 'Ec 's got better manners, 'ee 'as," replied the boy. The landlady, not at all impressed, snapped her fingers scornfully " That for you and the prince," she said, her nose in the air. " Mrs. Malone, you Ye a hanarchist," declared Bus- ter, shocked beyond expression. " Mr. Buster, you 're a liar," replied the landlady, promptly. " You 're no judge, Mrs. Malone. We honly puts hup with hanarchy from Mr. Dyke, the poet, who comes 'ere and reads 'is treason reeking verses to Mr. Moore. One hanarchist on hour calling list is enough." " You call me that name again, and I '11 smack you," exclaimed Mrs. Malone, pugnaciously. " Smack me! " echoed Buster, in trepidation. " Hif you kisses me, Mrs. Malone, Hi '11 scream." " Kiss you, indeed 1 " snorted the landlady, scorn- fully. 96 TOM MOORE M ^11 " Don't you dare," warned Buster, getting behind a table for greater safety. " Is your good-for-nothiug master in ? " " Hi am not hacfjuainted with no such hindividual. Hif you means Mr. Mcx^re. 'ee 's hout." Mrs. iMaloiic luol . ! " exclaimed Buster, breathing more freely. " She 's more wicious than usual to-day, Mr. Moore." " I know, lad, but we can't blame her," replied the poet. " She is a good old soul, and, as she says, it was her husband who first whacked knowledge into me." " Hi suppose 'ee were a fine scholard." " Well," said Moore, " he was all right when he was sober, but he was never sober that I remember. He was always in high spirits as a result of the spirits being high in him. However, that has nothing to do with the rent. Is the ladder that leads to the roof of the house next door out the window ? " " Yessir," said Buster. " You can go hout the same way you did yesterday." " Good," said Moore, " then I won't have to disturb Mrs. Malone's watch on the hall." " No, sir, that you won't." Moore looked at the boy gravely and got a smile in return which in extent could compare not unfavorably ■ 102 TOM MOORE 5 i with one of Lord Castlereagh's most expansive yawns. " Buster," said the poet, slowly and sadly, " there is something I feel it my duty to say to you. Let us be in sober earnest for once, my lad." " Yes, sir," assented the boy uneasily, stooping- to pull the bulldog's ragged ear. " Hat your service, Mr. Moore." Moore was silent for a moment, and when he did speak it was with an effort quite apparent. " Buster," he said, softly, " it is time we came to an understanding. I am head over ears in debt as you know. I owe every tradesman in the neighborhood, and as many out of it as I could get introduced to. I am a failure as a writer, bitter as it is for me to ac- knowledge it. Only a little while longer, and it will be the streets and starvation, Buster." " Don't, sir. don't," said the boy, a queer little break in his vaice, but Moore continued: " I 'm wronging you in keeping you with me, laddie. Don't waste any m* - of your time with me. i am only holding you bi v." "Hand if Hi went, sir," asked the boy, pitifully, "wot would become hof you?" "I ?" murmured Moore, choking back a sob. "There isn't much doubt, is there?" " Who "d black your boots for you, hand 'eat your shaving watr:-, hand listen to your poetry, sir?" de- manded Buster, wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve. " Blow me hif T 'ave n't a cold in me 'ead. My heyes is nmnin' somethink hawful hall day." " It 's best for you, Buster," insisted Moore, laying 'iis hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder. \\\ MRS. MALONE AND MR. DYKE 103 " Hit ain't hanythink o' the kind, hand I won't go, " declared Buster in an apologetically defiant tone. ■ No, sir, Hi won't go." •' You won't. Buster ? " " Wot would that young lady hover at Drury Lane think o' me, hif I left you halone?" Moore sighed at the thought of her. " She would n't care, Buster," he murmured. "Wouldn't she? Then she 'as an 'eart of hice. that 's wot she 'as, sir, wid hall the beautiful pomes we 'ave sent 'er." " But you are getting no wages, Buster," protested Moore. " Well, sir," the boy answered, " Hi 'as a situation, Hi 'as. That 's more 'n you 'as, his n't it ? " His voice died away in a snuffle, and he clutched his master by the arm appealingly. " You won't send me away ? " he asked, piteously. " You won'v, will you, Mr. Moore." Moore, touched to the heart at the lad's generous devotion, felt the tears gathering in his eyes, but forced them back with an effort, tho'.gh his voice shook as he answered : " My dear, brave, little fellow, how can I doubt Providence when there is one ? :h loyal heart near me? Stay, Buster. We will rise or fall together." As he spoke he held his hand out to the boy, who took it joyfully. " Yessir, that we will, sir You hand me, hand Lord Castlereagh." The bulldog, as though understanding the situation, thrust his cold nose in Moore's hand, and wagged his tail syiiipalhctically as the poet crossed to the fireplace I04 TOM MOORE ft 1' It \ f .S'li lii after patting the ugly head, rough with the scr.s of years of battHng. " Buster." continued Moore, without turning round. " Yessir?" " May God bless you. lad." said the poet, bowing his head on the mantelpiece to hide the tears that would come in spite of him. " Thank you. sir." Then as Moore dropped into the old arm-chair be- side the hearth, the boy. resolved to wake him from his unhappy mood, burst into song, rendering one of his master's most recent productions in a style worthy of a scissor-grinding machine. " Ilorf in the stilly night H'ere slumber's chains 'as bound me, Tfte shadows hof hother days Comt's a-gathcring round me." Moore, roused to mental activity by the racket, sat bolt upright in dismay. "Buster!" he cried, repro- ingl", but ♦l.e boy con- tinued at the top of his lungs as though he had not heard. " The smiles, the tears, Hof boyish years — " Bang! came a book against the door from across the room, missing Buster, who had dodged, by a few inches. " I'or Heaven's sake stop that caterwauling." cried Moore. " You put my teeth on edge." Lord Castlereagh became victim of a hallucina- tion that the book thrown by Moore was a rat of larjjf si2e, a!u! v, as fast shaking the life out of it MRS. MALONR AND MR. DYKK 105 when Buster descentlcd him and eh'ccted a upon rescue. " Blow me, Lord Castlercap;b. if you hain't a knock- ing the stuffin' hout of ' The Rivals,' " he remarked reprovingly. "Out of the rivals?" said Moore, with a lau^h. " I'aith, I 'd like to try the same game on mine. Buster. It's the simplest way, after all; isn't it. doggie?" Lord Castlereagh became riuitc giddy, and. possessed by a puppyish fancy, decided upon an immediate and vigorous pursuit of his stumpy tail as the pnKceding next in order, prosecuting his endeavor with such enthusiasm that he collided violently with everything in the room, including Moore and Buster, in the space of a moment, abandoning his enterprise only when winded as a result of running broadside on against a wall. "Will you heat your dinner now, sir?" asked Buster. "Dinner? What have you?" " Leaving hout the rest of the bill of fare, there 's a slice hof 'am hand 'arf a loaf of bread, hand a little hof that Hirisli wisky your sister sent you from Hire- land fcr your birthday." Rummaging in the cupboard. Buster speedily brought to light the little stone jug containing what was left of the girl's gift, and as Moore seated himself at the table, which also served as desk when needed, the boy placed the whisky before him. " Ah ! " ?aid the poet, his eyes glistening as he uncorked it. " That 's the real old stuff. That 's what puts the life into a man. eh, lad?" As he spoke. Moore held up the jug, and shutting an eye endeavored to peer into it. W io6 TOM MOORE f'i " There is n't mucli life left in it, Buster " Then, taking a whiff, the poet smacked his lips, bu placed the jug upon the table, its contents untouched. " No," he said, shaking his head, " it is too precious to waste. I must save that, laddie." " Yessir,'' said Buster, " fer some joyous hoccasion. Ave hanother smell, sir?" " r ^1 "°''' ^-^^'^'"i"! Moore, waving the bov awav. Get thee behmd me, Satan. Don't tempt me.'Buster tor 1 am not over strong in that direction. Cork it up tightly. They say it evaporates and it 's too good to have even a drop wasted." Buster stowed the little jug in the depths of the cupboard and returned briskly to where Moore was eatmg his dinner. ;; Hi Ve seen the shoemakers, sir," he announced. Ah, did you?" '; ^^^f^; The boots is hall done hand ready to be delivered. "^ "Good enough," commented Moore. "Did you appoint a time for them to come ? " ''Hi did that, sir. One will be 'ere at four, the bother at twenty minutes past the hower," replied the youth, shaking his finger warningly at Lord Castle- rcagh, who manifested more interest in the eatables than was in strict accordance with good manners. l^irst rate. Buster," said Moore, approvingly " U there any other news ? " & j' » coJtfnue^dT ^''''"''"^ ^ '"°"''"'' ''"' ^'^'^ "" ^ff°^ ^_ J Yessir, that ain't hall. Hi 'as a confession to make. MRS. MALONE AND MR. DYKE 107 " You have ? " said Moore in a surprised tone. " Well, let 's have it, my lad." "Yessir — " " One li rnf»nt, Buster," exclaimed the poet, an ex- press) .i. <>i alarm c. ning over his face. "One moment in wl" :li to comjjoje myself. Now I am calmer. Tell me, B v-^r, rd! m_ you haven't secretly married Mrs. Malone?" " Married 'ell!" exclaimed the lad, his nose turning up in disdain at the idea. " 'T would be much the same thing, I 'm thinking," chuckled Moore. " Well, that is one peril escaped. Go on with your confession." " You know that pome you sent me with to the Times, sir?" began Buster, still ill at ease. " ' The Last Rose of Summer,' wasn't it?" " Yessir. Hi did n't take it to the Times." " You did n't ? Why not. Buster ? " " Hit was this way, sir, just 'as Hi wuz a coming by Carlton 'Ouse, who should Hi see stepping hout 'er carriage but Mrs. Fitz'erbert 'erself, looking that sweet and beautiful has would make your mouth water." " So there is a woman in it, after all ? " observed Moore. " 'T was ever thus, Buster." " Yessir, so wot does Hi do but rip horf the wrapper hand run hup to 'er with the poem, hand sticks hit into 'er 'and. ' That 's for you,' ses Hi, hand tips me 'at hand is horf through the crowd like a hantelope." " Nicely done, Buster," said Moore. " It may come in handy for her ladyship. She can make curlpapers of it. Well, you are forgiven, my boy.'' " Thank you, sir," said Buster, greatly relieved. " Was my name signed? " io8 TOM MOORE 'I " Yessir, hand your haddress too." " Very good, Buster. Perhaps she '11 come to call and bring the Prince of Wales with her." " Well, sir," replied Ouster, " hit 's my hopinion has 'o\v neither hov 'em is one bit too' goo., for hus." " That sounds like treason, P.uster." "Docs it, sir?" cried iJustcr, apparently delighted to hear it. A knock at the door disturbed both servant and master, as well as arousing suspicions of the worst nature in the bosom of Lord Castlereagh, who growled ominously. " Oh, Lord ! exclaimed Moore, rising hurriedly from the table, which was saved from an upset by the quick hand of Buster. •' Is it the rent again ? " Buster tiptoed to the door as the knock was repeated, and whispered, after listening: " Hit s all right, sir. Who is it ? " " It 's Mr. D . ke," declared the person desirous of entering. Moore's face fell. " With another treasonable poem, I suppose," he muttered. " Worse luck." "Wot does you listen to 'em for?" asked Buster, disgustedly, leaving the door as Moore crossed to open it. " Ah. that is the question." said the poet, softly, ^^ " Hi knows," remarked Buster under his breath. " 'Cos 'ee 's 'er father, that 's why." ^^ "Comt in, Mr. Dyke," said Moore, opening the door. " How are you to-day, sir? " " Oh, very well, Thomas," replied the old gentle- MRS. M ALONE AND MR. DYKE 109 nan, entering with a self-satisfied air. " How do you, my boy? " Mr. Dyke's dress showed that he was enjoying pros- perity. His coat and hat had hardly lost their appear- ance c'" wness, while the rest of his costume, though evidently not of recent purchase, was of good quality, greatly exceeding in costliness the apparel in which he was wont to garb himself in Ireland. " I have nothing to complain of so far as health is concerned, Mr. Dyke. Buster, a chair for the gentleman." " I have come to read you a poem, Thomas." "Indeed?" said Moore. "Buster, two chairs for the gentleman." " You will have your joke, Thomas," observed Mr. Dyke, with an indulgent smile, as he seated himself. " I have n't much else, sir," said Moore, " that 's why I value it so highly. How is Bessie, sir? " " She is well and working hard on her new part. The new piece is produced at Drury Lane in a week." " I know," said Moore. " Bessie is getting on, is n't she?" "Indeed she is, Thomas," replied Mr. Dyke, proudly. " The manager says if she does as well as he expects in the next piece, he will allow her to play Lydia in a revival of Mr. Sheridan's great comedy, ' The Rivals.' " "So they revive Dicky's play? They do well, for they have had nothing since to equal it except ' The School for Scandal.' " The old gentleman cleared his throat modestly. " Quite true, Thomas, and for that very reason I am preparing to write a comedy myself." I Wi-fl ■PW 'tii TTO TOM MOORE i ■>,i " Bravo, sir. Surely it is a shame only one Irishman should wear laurels for play-writing." ''Do you know Mr. Sheridan. Thomas?" " Not I, sir, though both of us received our educi. tion at the same school some thirty years apart. Dr. W'hyte taught us both, and admits even now that he considered Sheridan but little better than a dunce." " So T have heard Mr. Sheridan himself declare " observed .Mr. Dyke. " A great man, Thomas, a great man." "You know him, sir?" asked Moore, a shade of envy for a moment perceptible in his voice. " I met him a fortnight ago at Sir Percival's house. Aeedless to say I was hono-jd. Thomas." " Quite needless, sir. Was he sober? " " Part of the time," answered Mr. Dyke, reluctantly. " Ah." said Moore. " that must have been early in the evening. Does Bessie know him ? " " Yes. Thomas. He was so kind as to give her his personal opinion of the airs and graces suitable as busi- ness for the character of Lydia, for he will have no one even mention the possibility of her not obtaining the part." " Look here now," said Moore, quicklv. " You just bear in mind what sort of a killer that 'same gay old lad is with the ladies. I '11 not have him making love to Bessie, if I have to tell him so on the street. He is an old rake, sir, and there is no more dangerous man m London, for all his years. ' "Tut, tut, Thomas," said Mr. Dvke in benign reproof. " Mr. Sheridan is a married man." " I know," replied Moore, doubtfully, " but I have often heard that they are the worst kind. By tht way, \ MRS. MALONE AND MR. DYKE iii how is that distinguished philanthropist, Sir Percival Lovelace ? " " You must not sneer at him, Thomas. Bessie and I owe everything to him." " Never fear. He expects to be paid one way or another," growled Moore, full of suspicions but abso- lutely lacking in proof. " Thanks to his influence, my verses are much in demand. No doubt you have seen a number of them published?" " I have that, and read them eagerly. Ah, you too are getting up in the world, Mr. Dyke." " I flatter myself it is so," replied the old gentleman pompously. " Shall I speak a word to Sir Percival in your favor, Thomas ? He could help you much, being, as you know, an intimate friend of the Prince himself." " Thank you, no," answered Moore, savagely. " I '11 get where I aim without his assistance or rot where I am contentedly. You don't see Sir Percival as I do, sir." "Evidently not," replied Mr. Dyke, blandly. "I find in him a firm and powerful friend, who has ex- erted himself much in my behalf, while you regard him as — " " My view of him is n't fit for such lips as yours, Mr. Dyke," interrupted Moore. " We will say no more about him. I only hope you may be correct in your opinion of the gentleman." " Have you heard the news from home ? " asked Mr. Dyke, polishing his glasses, preparatory to un- rolling the manuscript, which he had placed upon the table between them. " Not I, sir. It 's a fortnight since I have heard '1 mmmmm wry VA A Vi^I'-Jp-'it iia T O M M O O R E J) from my mother, though I write to her twice a week. Father is ailing, no doubt. He is getting on in rears, you know. But then their news is only of Dublin. I have heard nothing from Dalky at all." " W'innie Farrell was married to Captain Arbuckle last W edncsday week." Moore gave a start. " You don't say so. sir? Arc you sure?" " Sure as man can be. Thev are off on their honev- moonmg now. I had a letter from Squire Farrcll himself. By the way, Terence has come to London and is studying law." "I hope the rascal will keep out of mv way" said ^loore, viciously. " A sneak, if ever there vvas one." I' You quarrelled with h-m, Thomas?" " I did, sir. and licked him well, too. Tell me, Mr. Dyke, is Bessie still angry with me?" The old gentleman sighed and put on his glasses. " I am afraid so, Thomas," he said, gravely. " She never mentions your name, though I do mv best'^ to interest her in your doings. Now for the poem, lad. It is a satire, Thomas, a satire on the Prince rf Wales Oh. I cook him to a turn, Thomas. Ah, how he would squirm if I dared to have it published." :^Ioorc leaned over the table and took the manuscript from his guest in a manner more vigorous than polite " If you did have it published, you 'd be dropped by society like a hot potato, and Bessie would lose her position at Drury Lane," he said. •' You would be m a nice fix then, wouldn't you, Robin Dvke Es- quire?" ' ' " If worse came to worst, even then I would still ifi?lftt-i?S' =i' ".v'wrmiimp Sff!^^^^^^^^^ MRS. MALONE AND MR. DYKE 113 have the pension guaranteed me by Sir Percival," replied the elder poet, obstinately. " You would," assented Moore, emphatically, " for about Hve minutes. Mr. Dyke, Irishman and patriot that you are, you do wrong every time yo;i write a line that compromises your position hero in London. Thanks 10 the efforts of Sir Percival, you have been nicely received ; your verses are purchased and printed ; success such as you have never known before is yours, and yet in spite of all this that old taint in you leads you to write in secret poems which would be }our ruin if they ever saw the light. Good God, sir! Have you no thought of Bessie at all? You must think of Bessie. You must." Mr. Dyke, thus forcibly rebuked, grew red in the face, and seemed for a moment about to hotly point out the disregard paid by his young friend to the difference in their ages, but his better nature prevailed as his sense of justice showed him plainly that Moore was in the right ; so, after a short silence, he accepted his host's criticism in the same spirit it was offered. " You are right, Thomas," said he, reluctantly, " quite right, my lad ; but remember that I never read such verses to any one but you. I must admit I thoroughly enjoy giving occasional vent to my real feelings. It 's like throwing a load off my heart, Thomas." " I know how you feel," replied IMoore, sagely, " but take my advice, and throw off no mere loads that way." " Thomas, I won't. I promise I '11 not write an- other." " Good, Mr. Dyke," exclaimed Moore, gladly. " It 8 fc.. .■: ■=* i 114 TOM MOORE It in- :. i is delighted I am to hear you say that. Ah. sir if I were where you are, I 'd run no such danger. I can tell you. "Shall I read it to you, Thomas?" asked the old gentleman, resolved to extract all possible enjoyment from this bit of treason, since it was to have no successor. " Leave it with me," suggested Moore, endeavoring to postpone its perusal to the last moment possible I II read ,t to myself and study your method thor- oughly. It will be a greater help to me that way you know, and I am anxious to learn, sir " Dyke gave a flattered cough or two and rose to go. You must not b; discouraged. Thomas," he said in a kmdly patronizing tone. " your verses have merit real merit. I '11 stake my reputation upon it " " It 's kind of you to say that," said Moore, grate- fully, though in secret vastly amused, "a successful man like you." " Oh I mean it, Thomas, I mean it. Why, some clay 1 d not be surprised if you were rated as a poet almost as high as Robin Dyke." " You don't mean it, sir? " " f '"^°'^'/ 'f^ ^^''''ost/' repeated the old gentleman, fearfu lest he had raised hope too high in his fellow author s breast. " I heard you," said Moore, dryly, while Buster and Lord Castlereagh shared their indignation at the fire- place to which they had retired. " I must get along now." announced Mr. Dyke as though desirous of gently breaking the news of 'his approaching depanure. " Oh, you will laugh your sides sore when you read that poem. Thomas '• MRS. MALONE AND MR. DYKE 115 " Will I ? " asked Moore, doubtfully. Mr. Dyke turned at the door with a chuckle. " I almost envy you the fun, my lad. Oh, it 's mon- strous witty." And fairly shaking with merriment at the mental contemplation of his own humor, the old gentleman toddled down the stairs, quite at peace with the world at large and even more satisfied with himself. " My best love to Bessie," Moore called after him, leaning over the banisters. " Have you the rint?" came from below in the un- mistakably Hibernian accents of Mrs. Malonc. " No, I have n't, have you ? " shouted the disgusted poet, and hastening back into the room, he shut the door. " Rank halmost as 'igh as *im," exclaimed Buster, indignantly. "Well Hi likes 'is himpudence. Say, Mr. Moore, Hi thinks that hold cove is daflFy." "They say '^^enius is akin to madness," replied Moore, stowmg the poem away in the drawer of the table, where he kept many productions of his own. " Then 'ee 's been achin' a long time," replied the boy, misunderstanding the meaning of his master's remark. Moore laughed gently and did not correct him. m^. ■IW- ^H" riasm «l i Chapter Ten IN UnUCH THE LANDLADY IS PLATED A TRICK IX the meantime Afrs. Malonc, having pounded upstairs, halted in front of the door, not from politeness, hut to regain Iicr breath. F laving paused, she decided to knock, unconsciously mindful of Buster's scathing rchukc. " Who is there ? " asked Buster. " ^To. for me money," responded the landladv, de- terminedly. " Is there any sin in asking for what is Jue me ? " ^^ " As much sin as there is use." muttered Moore I can t go over the roof like this. Buster. I have it Tell her I am taking a hath." " Ycssir." said the boy, starting towards the door as Moore sought shelter with pail and pitcher of water belnnd an old screen standing in the corner of the room '' My cold bath, Buster," whispered Moore. " \essir." "And, Buster?" " Yessir." " You get out when she comes in." the'd^Lr"^'"' '''' ' '''''P°"'^'''^ ^"'^^^ P'-eparing to open "Am I to die of old age in mv own hall?" de- manded Mrs. Malone, waxing indignant. m megw J 1. -*< ''*«n TiAaMaMtrmBF^amnk ^a rwwn'wrs-wgk THE LANDI.ADY "You 'as your choice hof complaints, ,...j^am." replied Buster, openings the door. "You limb!" said she. misunderstanding the lad's unusual po"eness. "I'll not have any half-baked omadhaun cursing me." "Curse you, Mrs. Malone? Himpossible. hon my word of honer. Wy Hi 'as narthin but blcssin's fer you, sweetheart." Mrs. Malone aimed a blow at Buster's ear. and as he dodged successfully, .swung half around with the misspent energy of her effort. Ik.ster sought safety m the hall, but thrust his head in the doorway. "Mr. Moore his taking 'is cold bawth," he an- nounced, loudly. A splashing of water coming from behind the screen corroborated the lad's statement. " Taking his bath, is he ? " said Mrs. Malone " It 's the only thing he can take widout getting arresthed." tilt s IS Iw7vti, Mrs. Malone." " Are you sure of thot ? " " VVy h'are you so suspicious, Mrs. Malone > 'Ave you missed one? " " Niver you mind prying into the secrets of me toilet. I 11 have you to understand — " At this moment a ragged towel, soaking wet as the result of Its immersion in the pail, sailed over the top of the screen and landed with a gurgling squash, fair and square on the back of the landlady's neck, damp- enmg her collar and best cap so thoroughly that the starched hnen immediately subsided into floppy limp- " Merciful powers! " ejaculated Mrs. Malone. jump- ing a foot at least "Phwat's thot?" ii8 TOM MOORE m ; i Riistcr fled downstairs fearful of impending mas- sacre, while Moore behind the screen began giving an imitation of a man in the throes of an ice-cold bath, bursting into musiclcss song punctuated with excla- mations of discomfort and shivery comments on his condition. " She is '-' from the land," he shouted, slopping the water from pitcher to pail and back again, adding sot to voce, " But not from the landlady, worse luck — Oh ! I '11 die of the cold ! I know I will. Oh, mother, it 's a cake of ice your beloved Thomas is fast becoming. " Where her young hero sleeps, — Only her young hero is freezing instead of sleeping. Help ! Help ! Whew - w - w ! iMurder. murder, I 'm dying of the chill!" Mrs. Malone in speechless rage had unw^ound the wet towel from around her neck. " You divil ! " she remarked, with the calmness of despair. "You red-handed rapscallion. You've spiled me best Sunday Get-Up-and-Go-to-Early- Morning-Mass-Cap. Oh, you haythen! — you turk! Hanging is too good for the likes of you." Moore, bawling and singing at the top of his lungs, heard nothing of the landlady's desper- .ion. "And lovers around her are sighing. But coldly she turns — Faith, the dear girl must have been taking a cold bath herself, I'm thinking. Oh, murder! No! For, if that were so, how could the lovers be around her? No, indeed, no lady decent enough for Tom Moore JS ^u THE LANDLADY 1,9 to immortalize in song would be guilty of such im- modesty, I am sure. " But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in h'n grave is lying. A beautiful sentiment. Mr. Moore." " (J>h, where is that soap? " and then again bursting into song, he warbled: " Where « that soap? W/.'r^ isMrt/ soap? Oh, u/ieie in Hlazes is that so-o-o-ap t Buster, you devil, bring me the soap." " I '11 do nuthing of the kind," replied Mrs. Malone, feu, ously. "You won't?" " Not r." " In half a jiflfy I '11 come out there and give you the leathering you deserve for insubordination." " Oh ! " cried the landlady. " And me here, Brideet Malone." ' "What?" exclaimed Moore, as though suspecting her presence for the first time. " Are you there, Mrs. Malone? Whew ! but this water is cold." His head, with hair, wet and tousled, sticking up every which way, appeared above the top of the screen, being elevated just enough to keep his shirt band out of sight, thus preventing the betrayal of his subterfuge to the landlady. "How do you do, Mrs. Malone?" said he, cour- teously. " I 'm sopping wet, thanks to you." " So am I, Mrs. Malone. We are twins in that re- spect. Me teeth are chattering as you can see-e-e-e I " 120 TOM MOORE .ii.i 1 ^ j 1 ' Li 1 i» f " I '11 have thot rint now, you blaggard." "Shall I come and give it to you, Mrs. Malone? Oh, Lord, it is freezing to death I am." " I hope you are : when you die you '11 git a change," answered Mrs. Malone, sitting down by the table, decisively. " Are you going to stay ? " asked Moore, " I '11 sit right here till I git me rint, Tom Moore." "You will, eh?" " Thot I will, you water t'rowing spalpeen." "I said come back when I am dressed, didn't I? Well, I 'm not dressed, am I ? " "How should I know?" observed Mrs. Malone, loudly, meanwhile mopping her neck with her hand- kerchief. " \\ ell." responded the poet, " you zvill know, if you don't get out of here mighty quick, I can tell you. I '11 not be turned into a lump of ice for any old lady, Irish or no Irish. Whe-ee! Oh-h-h! G-r-r-r-h! When I get into the market the price of ice will drop a penny a pound." "I wants me rint," reiterated the landlady, quite unconcerned as to her lodger's personal temperature. " Do you think I have it in the tub with me?" de- manded Moore, growing desperate. " I 'vc no doubt you have as much of it there as anywhere," replied Mrs. Malone, unconsciously hit- ting the nail on the head. " I '11 give you till I count twenty to quit the premises." " Twenty or twenty t'ousand is just the same to me, Mr. Moore." "Then you have no head for figures, Mrs. Malone? " THE LANDLADY 121 " Not I, Tom Moore." " Well, there is one figure you '11 know more about if you don't skip, and that is the one of Thomas Moore, Esquire." "If you do, I '11 have you arresthed." " All right, Mrs. Malone. My frozen blood be upon your head. No, by St. Patrick, I '11 not ice myself even to oblige you. Out you go, my lady. One — two — three. Will you go?" "Not I, sorr!" " Eight — nine — ten — Are vou going ? " " Divil a fut will I." " Twelve — thirteen — sixteen — Now are you ready?" " I 'm not, sorr." " Eighteen — nineteen — ! " " Oh-h ! " cried Mrs. Malone, intimidated at last by the poet's determination, " I will, Misther Moore, I will." And gathering up her skirts she rushed for the door, reaching it just as Buster entered, the collision sending that young gentleman sprawling on the floor. " Thank ye very kindly, ma'am," he remarked, saluting her in military fashion from his lowered altitude. " Thot for your t'anks," she sniffed, and made her exit, signifying her scorn and dissatisfaction by the vigor with which she shut the door. Moore emerged from behind the screen with a sigh of relief. " Oh, Buster, my boy," he said breathlessly, " there is nothing like cold water for starting the circulation. What would I do without my tubbing ? " T22 TOM MOORE ''She '11 be back hagain. sir," said Buster, sighln^- at the thought^ "Hi wish 'er hold n.an was hllivc" Ee wouldn't be so 'ard hon us, would 'ee?" Moore. He was very fond of the bottle, was Mr Ma one. Usually he 'd not get up till noon, leaving us to fight and play around the schoolroom till he got over the effects of the night before. Then he^d wallop the lot of us for waking him up so - " Was she fond of 'im ? " wnnflV' ''"k ^"'^/f- ^^"'^ '"°''^' P'-^b^bly, than she would have been ,f he had been a better husband " Just h.magine Bridget Malone a-courtin' D've suppose has 'ow the hold gal remembers it, sir'"' I vyould n't be surprised, Buster. Such memories prow dearer as old age approaches. By the Saints iad, you ve given me an idea ! " '"As f?" said the boy in surprise. "Hi didn't know has I 'ad one." " You have fixed it so I can stand her off for the rent or my name is not Thomas Moore." answered the poet^^cheerfully. " We '11 not have to move this day. " Ho, that 's fine, sir. Me and Lord Castlereagh atcs moving. Does n't we. pup ? " The bulldog barked exultantly catching the key of hope from his master's voice. " Hof corse," said Buster, " when worst comes to worst we can keep the place by setting Lord Castle- reagh to watch the stairs. No landlady hor bailiff wud hever git by 'im. sir." "That would be what is known as a dogged re- ww:^ 3'>'«ar «ek».- THE LANDLADY 123 sistance of authority," said Moore, chuckling at his bad joke. " We must n't come to that, lad." " Hall right, sir, we won't." Moore returned to his temporarily abandoned repast and speedily ate his fill, Buster and the dog sharing alike in the debris, which was more than enough to aiFord satisfaction to them both. " Now, I '11 try to work," said Moore, arming him- self with a huge quill, the feathered end of which being well chewed, seemed indicative of having fur- nished food for reilection to its owner in the immediate past. He sat down at the table, scrupulously cleaned and dusted by Buster after he had removed the dishes, and, drawing a blank sheet of paper towards him, dipped the pen in the ink, prept atory to calling upon his inspiration. But that was as far as he got, for the desired idea failed to materialize. " Hang it ! " he said, throwing down the pen in disgust, " I can't write r. line. How can I expect to when nothing is in my mind but Bessie? Ah, Bessie, Bessie, you 've taken my heart ; now you rob me of my fancy. It will be my life next, if I 'm not careful." " Can't you think hof nothin', Mr. Moore ? " asked Buster, anxiously. " I 'm thinking of the greatest thing in the world, lad." " Ho, Hi knows wot that is : love." " Do you think so. Buster ? " " No, sir, but you does. W'y, sir, gals gives me pains. Hi wouldn't swap one paw of Lord Castle- reagh for the 'ole sex. Wot good is they? They can't fight-" " It is evident, Buster, that you have never been 'rr«»-riat, »~5&feviv.-i-sf4a' i>:i!fi,fB«rJ 124 TOM MOORE M married," interrupted Moore. "However, continue with your oration. I am interested." "His yer?" said Buster, much delighted. "Well that his fine. Hi '11 continyer. They can't fight, that is not with their fisties, hat least not hin accordance with the rules o' the ring. They is timid, hand selfish ! My Lord, hain't they selfish ! Halways thinking about 'ow they look ; hand eating! — W'y, sir, a girl is nine- tenths happetite and the rest 'unger. Clothes and vittles his all they thinks is worth while, hand the devo- tion hand eflfort to please with wich we honors them hain't naught but about 'arf wot they thinks they de- serves. A gal, sir, thinks has 'ow she does the earth a service, w'en she puts 'er footsy down hupon it. 'Arf of 'em himagines they consecrates the ground they walk on. Hexcuse me w'en it comes to gals. Hi could n't 'ave 'em squalHn' and complainin' hany where Hi 'm at. Hand then, sir, they is sich fearsonrie liars. They never 'ad no hintroduction to truth, sir, W'y they can honly tell it w'en they 'ears it. hand w'en they repeats it they halways dresses it hup with himagina- tions like they 'd pile fancy clothes hon their hown hanatomy previous to hattending some bloomin' mas- querade. Facts halways assumes a disguise hafter a hincounter wid females. Believe 'em we couldn't and we wouldn't, would we, doggie?" "Woof!" rem-rked Lord CasMereagh, playfully nipping at Buster's shoestring. "Quite right, pupsy, you halways agrees with me; there, sir, that's one thing a 'wife won't do. his n't it?" " I wish T could forswear dependence as you have done, Buster," said Moore with a sigh, " but it 's no 7.^ afe!^:LStSSji;£/ ..^'srMV' nm.^yi'&Hm soBfj/'iwa'-*«*^aftsau.-^ THE LANDLADY 125 use. I have n't the strength of mind. By the way, lad, did you se'' the empty wine-bottles?" "No, sir, out Hi '11 tend to it very soon, sir. Hi '11 get *em hout right away," replied Buster, suiting the action to the word. From the cupboard he took six bottles which once upon a time, though not very recently, had contained sherry. These he stood upon a stool and was about to ransack the depths of the closet in quest of more when there came a rapping at the door. " Hit 's Mr. Dabble from the wine-shop, sir," an- nounced Buster, after opening the door a little. " Tell Mr. Dabble I did n't order any wine," said ^loore, crossly. *' Will I never get started on this poem ? " Buster conveyed the mentioned information to the clerk and received a reply in return that he felt jus- tified in delivering. " Mr. Dabble says has 'ow hit *s a cursed lucky thing you did n't border harythink, and has 'ow it would n't do you hany good hif you bordered till Kingdom Come, sir." "He said that, did he?" said Moore, angrily, rousing from his labors. "Yes, sir. Shall Hi mash 'im in the phisomy?" " No, Buster, I can't blame Mr. Porter for being angry, for it 's a dog's age since I have paid him any- thing," answered Moore. "Shall Hi let 'im hin>" " Not yet. Buster, First ask him what ails the stout Mr. Porter?" Buster snorted with merriment and repeated his master's question to the fellow in the hall. " 'Ee says =as 'ow you knows confounded well wot EF,lii;<:.f*gl^-TS.-'« ■ 126 TOM MOOTIE hails 'im. 'Ee 's got no 'ead :or 'if wt-er. sir. Better let me mash 'im, Mr. Moore. The p5 actice h. nd hexer- cise would do us both good." "No, Buster, we '11 have no violence. Admit Mr. JJabble with appropriate solemnity." "Step hin 'ere, you sour-faced cocknev," said Buster throwmg open the door. " Turn your' noble footsies hm this direction, han don't kick the nap hoff the brussels carpet with your feet stools or Hi will lift you one in the phisomy, which his 'igh Henglish fer that ugly face o' yourn, you willain." itet'-i '«?*:r*lMK« "y.'5giPi2aBMbaiJMLi yukiriiiytxs^iiiK' Chapter Eleven TOM MOORE RECEIVES VISITS FROM TfVO COBBLERS AND A CLERK MR. DABBLE was a slender, sharp-featured young man of six-and-twcnty. His face was sour and suspicious, an expression that was heightened by his wispy yellow hair that bristled up net unlike the comb on a rooster. He was long and lank, and afflicted with an overweight of good opinion as to his own merits which may have been the cause of his stooping shoulders. After giving Buster a squelching glance, intended to reduce that impudent youth to a proper degree of humility (a result which it conspicuously failed to pro- duce), this worthy person entered briskly, carrying on his arm a basket covered with an old cloth. Dabble believed in system, and in this instance having an order of sherry to deliver in the neighborhood took advan- tage of his being in the vicinity to dun the poet for his long over-due account. Setting down the basket on the floor near the door, the clerk drew a bill from his vest pocket and advanced with it to the table at which Moore was pretending to be busily scribblirig. " Mr. Dabble, sir," announced Buster. Moore did not look up. " Tell Dabble to go to the devil," he remarked, absent-mindedly, continuing his writing. ,1 128 TOM MOORE ; it '. ■,i> ■ " Mr. Moore, I refuse to go lo the devil," exclaimed Dabble, indignantly, " T!ien don't go to the devil," answered Moore, still scribbling. " Call on some other relative." "My employer says it is high time you paid this bill," persisted the clerk, thru.sting the statement of Moore's account betieath the poet's nose, as Buster quietly investigated the contents of the basket the new- comer had brought with him. " You must n't believe all you hear, Mr. Dabble," replied Moore. " Many casual statements arc grossly incorrect. Really, the aggregate amount of misinfor- mation current these days is most appalling, just con- sider it for a moment if you have never given it thought before." " I have no time for consideration, Mr. Moore." " If you had more consideration for time — that is mv time — and its value, you would not be delaying the completion of this poem in this manner," Moore answered, laying down the quill with a sigh of endur- ance. " Sit down. Mr. Dibble." " My name is Dabble." " Well, it would n't bend your name if you sat down, would it. Dibble?" " Dabble, sir, Dabble." " Quite true, sir. I frequently do in literature, but how did you know ? " " Sir," said the clerk impressively, " time flies and time is money." " Indeed. Mr. Dibble? Let me make a suggestion then. You should take time, build a flying machine and make money. Then you would n't have to bother me for mine." - W m K^^i'V^^RVlLiK'^'W'- RECEIVES VISIT ORS 129 As Dabble stood for a moment quite disconcerted by the poet's remarkable advice, Buster, with exquisite care that no noise should be made to frustrate his design, extracted two of the full bottles from the de- strted basket, and with equal caution replaced them with two of the empty ones he had set out preparatory t(i offering them for sale in the neighborhood. So carefully did Buster execute this manoeuvre, that the attention of neither the clerk nor Moore was at- tracted to his performance, which was successfully repeated by the lad until only one full bottle remained in the basket, this being left deliberately for a certain purpose, not because the opportunity to purloin it had not been afforded him. "Do you intend to pay this bill, sir?" demanded Dabble, waking up to the fact that he had been made fun of, and waxing angry accordingly. "Certainly J intend to pay it, Mr. Dibble," said Moore impatiently. "To-day?" " No, I never pay bills on Tuesday." " What day do you pay them on ? " " I usually liquidate all indebtedness on the twenty- ninth of February. If you will call around then I will be pleased to settle and may perhaps give you another order. Now you really must excuse me. as I am obliged to finish this sonnet without further delay." "February is too far off," objected the clerk, not comprehending the space of time that must necessarily elapse before the date mentioned by Moore would be reached by the calendar, for this was not a leap-year. " Well, then, pay it yourself, Mr. Dibble, if you are ''r4"^es:z«£??' " awMJWg. ii uiiiifi^ -^r-aK IJO TOM MOORE not satisfied with my way of doiiiff it. Perhaps that would be the btst w^y, after all." '' Mr. Moore, have done with joking. This bill — " " Hang it, Dibble, you make more noise with your beak than you do with your bill," exclaimed Moore trymg indignation for a change. " Ycni '11 have me out of my mind, if you don't look out." " Well, that 's evidently where our bill has been " " Out of mind, Mr. Dibble ? " " Yes, sir." " Then if it has no mind it is unreasonable, and I never pay unreasonable bills. Buster, the door for Mr. Dibble." " T am not going yet, and mv name is Dabble, not Dibble." Moore waved Buster back as that pugnacious youth was about to lay violent hands on the clerk. " Your father is responsible for your name. He is much to blame. Dibble. If I were you, I 'd sue the old man for damages." " I see you have no intention of paying this bill Mr. Moore," said the clerk, abandoning hope of collection. ^^ " You must be a mind -sader," observed Mo^re. " You could make a fortune exhibiting your gifts in public, sir. Now. my dear fellow, before you go just to show there is no hard feeling between us personally, even if I owe your employer, have a drink with me" " But," began Dabble. ''I'll take no denial," said Moore, winningly. Come, sir, you shan't refuse me. Buster, bring forth the precious licjuor and we will do honor to our guest." RECEIVES VISITORS 131 "I never drink a drop," expostulated the clerk, telling an outrageous lie incidentally. " Well," said Moore, with a laugh, " I never drop a drink, so we cancel that objection. We will have a tiny wet together socially as two honesi gentlemen should. We will drink health to Mrs. Dibble and all the little Dubbles." " There is no little Dubbles, sir," answered the clerk, moUitied in spite of himself by Moore's charming manner. "What? No twins? That is an oversight, sir. Oh, well, we '11 be sanguine, Dibble, for there is no telling what may occur in the future. Accidents will happen in the best-regulated families, and I am sure yours is one of the best, so cheer up and don't despair. Buster, you devil, what is keeping you ? " " Hall ready, sir, hall ready." replied the boy, who, having extracted the cork from one of the stolen bottles, had carefully wrapped a cloth around it, so that the label would not betray his secret to the enemy while he was filling the glasses. Moore, taking for granted that the beverage de- canted by Buster was the poteen he had p.cviously denied himself, watched Dabble eagerly as that gentle- man raised his glass to his lips, expecting the usual cough and sputter to follow the first swallow of the fiery liquid. In this he was disappointed, for the clerk drank calr-,* and with evideni. enjoyment. " What do you think of that whisky, Mr. Dabble? " " Whisky, sir? This is sherry," answered the clerk, " and quite a respectable quality too." "How's that?" asked Moore, in surprise; then, sipping the vontents of his own glass, he found that ■v)- T O M MOORE m. t hi guest was quite right. Meanwhile '^'ister, from th» concealment afforded him behind Mr. Dabble, was making frantic gesticulations to his master, finaHy suc- ceeding in catching his eye. " What ails tiic boy? " muttered Moor •. rarely pur- ple. I . un iorstand hou his empty cupbo;.,! couUl have furni^liec the refreshment Buster 1, ! just i)ut before t!iei:-.. "Llir" ;uid Mr. Dabble, sippint- his sherr\ in a mui'ner ibat pave -he lie to his recci aniiouncenicnt ..f totai ab t'nce. Sherrv it Is," said Moore. " I ault r.i tli label, Mr. Dabble. our !)est health, sir "' " It is very fair sherry, Mr. Moore, very fair," de- clared the clerk- c.indc-cendinc:rly, " hut pardon mc ff I say it is hardi up to ..ur lo%cl of quality." " Is that so. Mr. Dabble ? ■ " Yes, sir. Xow I have sonic really sup< or sh( , ry in my basket there." "Oh, law!" e> laimed 'Ulster in an undertone. " 'Ere i.s where Hi ta .cs to cover." And he tiptoed out of thi doorwav unnoticed. " You don't say so. Mr. Dah!)lc?'" replied Mo( an interested tone "Indeed 1 do, AI' .Moaid Dabblr. rising as he spo' " By all means do so." Dabble pulled his watch from his • ■■-,■ crossed to the basket. " Gracious! " he exclaimed. " I had n. so late. I ha\ e n't a moment to spare, sir." " Good-da\ ■■ said Mo^ <^ poHtcly, as the ck k picke- m e tins ket a.- 'C 'lea it was "ood-dav. R E C F. I V !: S VISITORS UJ iiji ?he bii .Ivct, not I'Hi^mg the difference 'n wi ight in the iiurrv of thv moment, and oiK-ni'iij the .ioor closed by i^jster in making his escape, nod. •«) a last good-h:.c to t!ie p- t befoi • going. l^^ft t.., himself. Moore ^ ook another dr ik from his • Where th* Icvil." th< it he, lid Muster get that win* TI it l.v is -' rtainlv a wondci. emend' .11 .^ era Mexjri. ran tc hi, Ichir. sought lo d' T ♦' ■itairs L me r, feet as an "Wl hap. V is heard in the hall below. ."nd leaning over the banister :ause of the rack* is up the ing 1 htly in his kinged dz him by the , rm. ne (! 'Ml )v ch< i -h • tnded. > lei! dowi iirs. sir," replied the His n't hit hawful. Yon never card Hi 'me shocked. Hi am ' askt s;: iiii. h lid?" r's accu- Mrs. over bbl. .ily. ijwidge. i Httle devil, you tripped him up." can't prove it, so wot 's the hod ' •'uster, not at a!! abashed at hi " Mi think 'ee must 'ave fcw si le } hurt, Mr. Dabble?" called M ahistr; le. • Xo," replied Mrs. Malone, from far below. "He's n hur-ted, but he has broken all his bottles and the stiiirs is running over with sherry." ^^ " T 'd like to lick up Vw stairs," answered the poet. " Cve him my sympathy, Ivlrs. Malone, and tell him I se- '' ny love to the twins." .lave you the rint, Misther Moore?" ' I 'm not dressed yet, Mrs. Malone." " Are you going to dress to-day ? " 1 >34 TOM MOORE I '' I am surprised at your indelicacy in asking such an immodest question of an innocent and unmarried young man," replied Moore reprovingly. " If you keep on I '11 feel it my duty to mention your behavior to Father O'Houlihan. Oh, it is shocked he would be, Mrs. Malone." " Xiver mind," answered the landlady. " You lave Father O'Houlihan to me." " I don't know whether the good mar. will be safe in your hands after this morning's revelation, Mrs. Malone. He don't look over strong." *' Wait till I get hold of you, you rapscallion." " No, I can't wait," said Moore, slamming the door as he returned to his own apartment. "Buster!" "Yes, sir!" " Explain this misfortune of Mr. Babble's." " Ho, 'ee 'U never know, sir, habout the sherry," replied Buster, reassuringly. " He won't? " said Moore, still in the dark. " What do you mean, lad ? " " Hi left 'im one full bottle, so hif 'ee should 'appen to fall hon 'is way downstairs hit would be hall right. Hi 've got hall 'ee 'ad with 'im hexcept that one bottle wich Hi feels has 'ow hit was a cruel shame to waste." As the boy spoke he threw open the cupboard and exhibited his plunder neatly arranged in two rows on the niiddli shelf. Moore swore gently in his astonishment and sat down. " Buster," said he. " have you no morals? " " No, sir, but Hi 'as the sherry." RECEIVES VISITORS 135 " Well, there is no use in sending it back, I suppose. It 's six more bottles to be added to the bill when I pay it." " Yessir, this his simply hour method hof obtaining more credit, sir." " Buster," said Moore solemnly. " You are a finan- cier. We '11 have a glass together." • •••«•• Promptly at four a dapper little person, who moved with such lively and mannered steps, even when walk- ing at his slowest gait, that his general demeanor was highly suggestive of a dancing master in business hours, entered the house which was honored by the presence of Thomas Moore and his faithful servant. This individual was a cobbler named Hypocrates Slink, who iiammered and sewed leather in a little store per- haps a hundred yirds farther down the street than the house presided over by Mrs, Malone. He had red hair and a nose gently tinted with another shade of the same color. His eyes were small, blue, and not entirely guiltless of a squint ; in fact, his chief rival in the trade was wont to describe him as a cock-eyed impostor. This, being repeated to Mr. Slink, had caused him to make remarks of a decidedly acrimonious nature in reply, and as these had in their turn been faithfully carried to the object that had drawn them forth, a bitter feud was engendered, the result being that the neighborhood was frequently provided with amuse- ment by the verbal combats of the two cobblers, for, while physical encounters seemed pending, as yet there had none taken place. Having knocked for admittance, Mr. Slink was duly announced and ushered in by Buster, whose manner ■fS* V ■fi! 136 TOM MOORE to one better versed in the youth's peculiarities would have seemed suspiciously courteous. " Good-day to you, Mr. Slink," said Moore, pleas- antly. "Is your health salubrious?" " Quite werry, sir," replied the cobbler, approaching his patron with his usual mincing step. " And have you the boots. Mr. Slink ? " " I have, sir." replied the cobbler, exhibiting a paper- wrapped bundle, nestling beneath his arm. "Here they are. sir, but the money, sir? You promised cash, sir. That is to say, sir. I intimidated as delicatesome as I could that I must have the coin, sir, before I could let you have them, sir." " So I have been informed by my man," replied Moore. " Really, my good sir, such suspicions are unworthy of you. Believe me, it is with regret I per- ceive the taint of cynicism in an otherwise charming character." " Yes. sir," answered Mr. Slink. " Yes. sir. Them is just my own sentimei;ts. but I have a large family, and one that I may say. proudly and truthfully, sir, is on the steady increase." " My sympathy to you in your misfo i;e," said Moore, hastily. "Ah, England owes much of her advancement to her noble citizens. It is buch men as you make possible the Orphan Asylums, for without the voung and deserving what would become of such worthy institutions?" " Sir. you take the werry words out o' my mouth. Scarcely a " began the shoemaker. -g-good 5r*HB»3aK.i' 144 TOM MOORE ■i I " Finish it outside," suggested Moore. " I w-w-will, s-sir," replied Smirk, and as he pro- ceeded slowly and unsteadily downstairs, the whisky- burdened tones of the cobbler died away in a murmur and then ceased entirely. " Observe me, Buster," said Moore, boots in hand. " These boots are made of one style. From Mr. Smirk I have procured one for my right foot ; from Mr. Slink one for my left. The two together make a pair, which is the object I set out to accomplish." " 'Ooray ! " shouted Buster. " Hi sees. Hi sees." "A trifle late, Buster, a trifle late," said Moore, pulling on his recently acquired spoils. " But, sir," said the boy, apprehensively, " they will both be back in a little while." *' Well, I '11 take pains not to be here then." "But they'll watch hand ketch you sooner hor later." "That is all the good it will do them," replied Moore, cheerfully, regarding his feet with no little amount of approval. " Hi knows, sir, but you never breaks your word, sir, hand you promised to pay — " " IVhcn did I say I 'd pay. Buster? " " When you tried on the other boot, sir." " Well, that is a simple matter, lad. I won't try the other boot on." " Won't yer?" " Not I, and they will have a nice easy time making me against my will." " Hi sees, Mr. Moore," cried the boy, delighted at the discovery of a means of discomfiting the cobbler without breaking a promise. RECEIVES VISITORS 145 Moore sighed. "Ah, Buster," he said sadly, "when luck comes we will pay all these men. Till then they will have to give us credit, and if they won't give it, we will take it, but for every penny I owe them now, I '11 pay them two when I can afford to settle. I can do without wine, but without l)oots I 'd not earn the coin to pay any of my debts. I don't like such trickery, heaven knows, but I must get on. I must get on." " Hif they were n't crazy fools, they 'd be glad to trust us," assented Buster. " We '11 pay 'em when McDermot brings hout our book hof poems." "That reminds me," said Moore, "it must be al- most time for me to hear from that same gentleman." " Yessir. Say, does Hi get a hautograph copy? " " You do, Buster," replied Moore, smiling. " No one deserves it more than you, I am sure." " A hautograph copy," repeated Buster, delightedly. " My, but that will be fine. Hand I wants yer to write your name hin the front of it ? " " Don't you know what an autograph copy is. Buster?" asked Moore, his eyes twinkling. " That Hi does," said the boy, confidently. " Hit 's one with gilt hedges hall around it. Hi knows." '«Bb»Muinne#^Y Chapter Twelve IN WHICH THE POET fVARBLES MRS. MALONE TO RAT-tat-tat ! " Are you dressed, Mister Moore?" asked Mrs. Malone, her ear against the crack of the door. Moore winked at Buster and motioned him to admit the landlady, who entered with her accustomed inde- pendence of c riage, apparently expecting and pre- pared for cont«iition. •' Ah, lia," said she. triumphantly. " You did n't thrick me i.iis time, Tom Moore." " On the contrary, I have been patiently waiting for your coming, Mrs. Malone," replied the poet, politely. The landlady looked incredulous. "Where is the rint?" she inquired, beUigerently. " Here in my dressing gown," answered Moore, exhibiting a long tear in the garment mentioned. " A big rip it is, too. Have you your needle handy?" " I wants no fooling, Misther Thomas Moore," declared Mrs. Malone, drawing her bushy brows low in a ferocious frown. " Were you ever in love, Mrs. Malone ? " " Thot is none of your bufiness." " You forget ) our husband was my first instructor," said Moore, reproachfully. i L THE POET WARBLF.S 147 " Well, 1 'II f)c your last teacher, atid I '! ;gan with a little cough, meanwhile looking back and forth from Moore to Buster as Mrs. Malone waddled out of the attic, " ivhich is Mr. Thomas Moore?" " I am. sir," replied the poet, taking no notice of the new-comer's intentional rudeness. " What do you wish with me? " "I— er — er — ahem — come from Mr. McDermot, the publisher. My name is Gannon." " Indeed ? " cried Moore. " Won't you have a chair, Mr. Gannon ? " " I will, thank you," replied the clerk, for such he was, seating himself with much dignity, a performance given a humorous tinge by the unsuccessful attempt he made to cross his fat little legs. " I have called at Mr. McDermot 's request to see you about your poems." " You are more than welcome, I am sure," replied Moore. " Mr. McDermot has read the manuscript volume you submitted, and takes great pleasure in saying he has never read anything better; great pleasure." Moore gave a sigh of relief and grew quite light- headed with delight. Here was real appreciation. Genius was about to be recognized at last. Ugly, ill- tempered, little Gannon became in the poet's eyes sud- denly invested with the beautiful characteristics and perfect exterior of a cherub, a little overgrown and shapeless, perhaps, hut nevertheless cherubic. He wondered how he o- >uld for the moment have so greatly di>lil;ed this herald of prosperity. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 153 " Mr. Gannon, you are thirsty, I know," stammered Moore. " You must be after such a walk. I insist that you drink with me, sir. What shall it be?" " Since you insist I '11 tr>' a little port," said the clerk, obligingly. '* Unfortunately," replied the poet, " that is one thing I have n't in my possession. I'm like a loaded ship, sir, just out of port. But I '11 give vou something better." "Will you?" " I 've the finest drink in the world in that cupboard, sir. One that will make life seem like a dream of blue sky and roses to you." " Ef — er — ahem, — I am a married man," ob- served Mr. Gannon, doubtfully. " This will enable you to forget that," said Moore in a reassuring tone. " I hope not," replied Gannon, suddenly waxing con- fidential. " The only cloud in my domestic horizon was caused by just such a slip of memory. What a recollccti.-.n women have for such lapses." "For theirs or for yours, Mr. Gannon?" " For mine, Mr. Moore, for mine," hastily replied the clerk. " Ah, women — er — cr — ahem — are augels, sir, angels." " No doubt," said Moore, pleasantly, as he poured out the whisky, " of one kind or another. This, sir, is the dew of heaven. You '11 never beat this for tipple, Mr. Gannon. When I place this before you I show you the greatest compliment in my power. Believe mc. ii is most precious, dear sir. for it is the essence of Ireland. Each drop a tinted diamond. Your health, Mr. Gannon." " Thank you, Mr. Moore, thank you," replied the m 1:1 154 TOM MOORE clerk in a flattered tone, raising his glass to his mouth. But the first swallow of the fiery liquid sent him into such a paroxysm of coughing that Moore felt com- pelled to slap him on the back hastily. " That 's the way to drink such whisky," said the poet, approvingly. *' It makes it last longer." " Er — er — ahem." replied the clerk, taking advan- tage of Moore's own imbibing to empty the contents of his glass over his shoulder unperceivcd by his host. Buster, being at this particular moment just behind the little clerk, received the whisky full in the face, and feeling compelled on his master's account to resist the belligerent impulse which demanded he should obtain immediate satisfaction from the cause of his discom- fiture, he sought with a smothered oath the seclusion of the stairs, an exile into which he was immediately followed by the bulldog. " What ails the lad? " asked Moore in astonishment. " I wonder if he is n't well ? " "Ahem — er— Mr. Moore," began the clerk in a busmesslike tone, " permit me to deliver to you the message of my employer. I really am pressed for time. sir "Go ahead," said Moore, seating himself on the opposite side of the table near which his gue^. was sitting. " You may command me, Mr. Gannon." "Mr.— er—er—McDermot—ahcn— wishes me to inform you that your poetry is delightful. The lan- guage is beautiful." "Yes?" said Moore, interrogatively, now in the seventh heaven of delight. " Really, Mr. Gannon ? " " Each metaphor he declares is as delicate as it in charming." AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 155 "Yes?" 'Your rhymes arc perfect, Mr. Moore." "Yes?" " In fact Mr. McDermot wishes me to assure you tliat the highest praise can be lavished on your work, Mr. Moore, tlie highest praise." " He is too kind, Mr. Gannon, he is too kind," cried the poet, rising in his excitement. "He was delighted with your book, but — " Mr. Gannon paused, and looked solemn. "But what?" asked Moore, eagerly. " He cannot publish it." Moore stood looking stupidly at the little clerk for a moment quite dazed. "Can't publish it?" he repeated slowly. "Can't publish it! Why not, sir?" ^^ "Your work is most worthy," answered Mr. Gannon, " but who are youf " " I don't — quite — know," faltered Moore, stunned by the sudden casting down of his so recently raised hopes. "Ahem — er — er — nor does any one else," con- tinued the clerk, pitilessly. "Mr. McDermot bade me say that to obtain success at the present time a book must be dedicated to some great figure of fashion." "But I know none, sir," replied the disconsolate poet, sinking limply back on his stool. " I know none, sir." "Just so, — er — er~ahem, — Mr. Moore," said Mr. Cannon, giavely. " You know none ; none knows you, so hf'-e is your poetry." As he spoke, he drew a bundle cI manuscript from 156 TOM MOORE his coat-tail pocket and tossed it contemptuously upon the tabic. "Good (lay, sir, good day, er — er— -ai n. — Mr. Moore." And swelling out lus ciiest with the importance prop- erly attached to the person of the bearer of had news, little Mr. Cannon sauntered leisurely out of the attic. For a moment Moore sat motionless and dumb, striving to comprehend that the sudden downfall of his hopes was real. So quickly had he found himself robbed of the triumph which seemed almost in his grasp that the events of the last few moments were temporarily blurred and blotted in his mind as the fanciful weavings of a slumbering brain often are when Cfmsciousness is rudely restored to the sleeper and memory seeks to recall the dream. "Done again," he murnuired, softly. "Done again." Suddenly a great sob shook his frame, but he^'man- fully choked hack the others which would have fol- lowed it. " My courage i> gone at last." he whispered, as though he were nol a!< .tie. " I ni beaten — I m beaten. Oh. It is hitler. .Ml my i)right hopes were conjured up but to fafle. A glimpse of Paradise shown lo me, and then this attic again Ah. Bessie, Bessie, mv heart is broken this day." For a second he seemed as though about to break down completely, but, controlling himself with a great effort, he dashed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Then as he turned, his eye fell upon the manuscript lying on the table where it had been thrown by the can-loss hand of Mr. ' aunon. " ^'ou are there, are you?" he <• .ed, seizing it AN UNEXPErTED VISITOR T^y rouglily. " V'ou tempted me from beautiful Ireland — you lured me here to this heartless, cruel London, with a thousand sweet promises of hope and love and fame. You 'vc tricked me. You brought me here to starve — to die — to fail. Then, damn you, I 'm through with you forever." He hurled the written book to the floor and groped his way to the window, blinded with the tears he would not shed. The golden and salmon hued glory of the sunset, painting the spires and house tops with a thou- sand shades of flame, fell full upon his hopeless head, and conscious of the horrible mockery of such a halo at a time when only darkness and despair seemed to surround his existence, the poor fellow buried his face in his arms on the window-sill and sobbed like a beaten child. After a while, when the final bitterness of his grief and disappointment had passed he left the window. As he crossed the room his eye fell upon the rejected poems, which lay on the floor bathed in the crimson and yellow riot of a sunbeam. He stood for a moment as though transfixed, then as his heart filled with a sud- den revulsion of feeling he knelt and clasped the manu- script to his breast with a little cry. " No, no," he murmured brokenly. " I did n't mean U. I did n"t mean it, for such as vou are vou 're all I have." When Buster opened the door a few moments later he found his master sitting in his favorite arm-chair m front of the fireplace in which flickered a tiny fire, lighted for the sake of its cheering influence as the chill of fall was still at least a month away. M. 1 MM MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■ 50 "1"^^ .TT 113.2 I 3.6 1.4 1 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ APPLIED \hM\3B Inc ~r 1653 tasl Ua.r Slreet TJZ Rochester. New Yort. U609 USA ^= (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone SS (7!6) 288 - 5989 - Fa« 158 TOM MOORE I'l "■ "Did he take ri "Well, sir?" asked the lad, hopefully, 'em?" ^ " No, Buster, he came to bring them back," replied Moore, quite calmly. Buster made a remark as expres- sive as it was profane, which is saying much. " Well, blow "is hugly face! " he cried, in righteous mdignation. "Hall that fuss hand then 'arids 'em back ? " "He did. Buster." "Oh, Hi wishes Hi ad a knowed it. Dabble's tumble would n't 'ave been a circumstance to the 'eader that little pot-bellied cove would 'uve tcoken. Hi say, Mr. Moore, will you call me ' Pride ' after this? " "Why?" asked Moore, more cheerfully. " Because 'as 'ow Hi goes before a fall hand returns hafter it. Dabble will swear to that, sir. Aw, don't let a measly publishing cove cast you down, sir. W'y hall we 'as got to do is to cut McDermot dead when we meets 'im on Pall Mall. That '11 ruin 'im socially." " You are a plucky little devil. Buster." "Yessir," replied the boy, sagely. "You see. Hi hain't got no gal to worry me, sir." " Ah, my lad," said Moore, nodding his head with a sigh, "that makes a world of difference after all." There is some one hat the door, sir," said Buster. " Shall Hi tell 'im you 're hout ? " " No, lad, I '11 be glad of company. Bid him enter." Buster obediently opened the door and a tall gentle- man, magnificently dressed, stepped over the threshold. " Is this the residence of Mr. Thomas Moore?" he asked, removing his hat politely. At the sound of the new-comer's voice Moore started to his feet. Hi 1 AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 159 " It is, sir," he answered, advancing a step or two. "Oh, how are you, Mr. Moore? You remember me?" " Lord Brooking ; Sir Percival's friend," said Moore coldly. " I 've not forgotten you." And he paid no attention to his lordship's out- stretched hand. Brooking seemed a trifle disconcerted at the coolness of his reception, but, recovering himself, he continued winningly : " You wrong me, sir. My intimacy with the gentle- man you named has declined to a mere acquaintance." " You are to be congratulated. Lord Brooking," re- plied Moore more cordially. " Won't you sit down ? " Then, as the young nobleman was relieved of his cloak and hat 'y Buster, the poet went on: " I believed your lordship to be abroad." " It is my custom to pass six months yearly upon the Continent," answered Brooking, settling back at his ease in the old arm-chair to which his host had waved him. " To this, doubtless, your impression is due. As it is, I only returned from there two days ago, so you see, Mr. Moore, you are one of the first of my friends to receive a call from me." *' I am honored," replied Moore, politely, sitting down on the other side of the fireplace. " No doubt you are wondering what has brought me to see you ? " " I can't deny a slight curiosity, my lord," admitted Moore, smiling back at the young nobleman, whose charming manner was winning his confidence in spite of his previous suspicions. i6o TOM MOORE m^ m " Then I '11 proceed lo enlighten you without further delay, Mr. Moore." " If your lordship will be so good." " In Ireland a year ago Sir Percival offered little Mistress Dyke a position at Drury Lane Thertre." " He did, curse him ! " " Knowing the gentleman as I do, I promised my better self that, if the young lady did come to London as the protegee of Lovelace, I would fetch you here as nnne. so, if the time came when she would require a stroig arm and a loving heart to defend her happiness, she need not go far to find it. That very day I left Ireland and have since been abroad. Two days ago I returned from Paris and found to my surprise that Mistress Dyke is acting at Drury Lane. Surely, you did not allow this willingly ? " " Not I, sir. I had nothing to say about it." " You mean she preferred Lovelace s advice to yours, Mr. Moore ? " " We quarrelled, sir, and from that day — it was the one on which you left the old country, my lord — she has had no good word for me. Circumstances placed me in an unfavorable light, and, believing me faithless, she turned a deaf ear to my warnings. Her father was daft to come to London, and in her anger she consented to make the venture." 'And you followed her here, Mr. Moore?" i es, sir, I made a pretence of studying law in the Middle Temple, but it was wretched work which I soon abandoned. Since then I 've been scribbling for a living and not achieving much success at it, though I have done my best." " I see," said Brooking, reflectively. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR i6i " Did Bessie give you my address ? " " Not she," replied his lordship. " I Ve not had the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with Mistress Dyke." " She and her father go everywhere," said Moore, proudly. "Thanks to Sir Percival's influence, they have been received by society with open arms. The old gentleman's poems sell, and Bessie is more than ordinarily successful at Drury Lane." " I am not surprised at the young ladv's success," observed the young nobleman. " That of her father in the world of letters would have seemed to me prob- lematical had I not your assurance of his prosperity." Then if Bessie did not tell you where I lived, how did you find me out ? " " I lunched to-day at Mrs. FitzHerbert's. There I saw a poem with your name and address attached." Moore gave Buster a grateful glance which more than repaid that young gentleman for his enterprise. " By the way, Mr. Moore, the verses I spoke of were charming. Mrs. FitzHerbert read them aloud to the assembled company, who received them with every mark of pleasure and appreciation. Mr. Sheridan was particularly complimentary in his comments, while no less harsh a critic than Mr. Brummell condescended to express himself as delighted. Have vou other poems. Mr. Moore ? " I' What is that. Lord Brooking?" " Have you other poems ? " Moore's laugh was not untinged with bitterness as he opened the drawer in the table, lifting from it with both hands a confused pile of manuscripts which he dropped carelessly in front of his c^uest. ti 9 iSi TOM MOORE l;i; i I Si 1 if "A few, sir," he remarked grimly. " But why are they not published ? " demanded Lord Brooking, scanning various poems through his eye- glasses. " They seem of uniform excellence." " They are refused because I have no patron in the world of fashion to accci ' the dedication. McDermot, the great publisher, told me so himself." " Indeed ? " remarked his lordship, meditatively. "Hum!" "Ah, if your lordship would permit me?" began Moore, eagerly. " I '11 do better than th.-t," interrupted Brooking. " I '11 bring your work to the attention of the Prince himself." "The Prince?" cried Moore, dazzled at the mere idea. " Yes, Mr. Moore, the Prince. Wales, in spite of his many faults, is a curst good fellow, and quite a judge of poetry. He shall read specimens of your skill. For- tunately Mrs. FitzHerbert, who still enjoys his High- ness's favor, is mightily at odds with Sir Percival. Moreover, she was greatly pleased with the Rose poem you favored her with. I '11 get her to exert her influ- ence with Wales. Egad, Mr. Moore, we'll do our best for you" " How can I thank you ? " faltered Moore, hope welling up in his heart once more. Brooking rose from his chair. " You can repay me easily," he answered, placing his hand upon his protege's shoulder. " Marry sweet Mistress Bessie and then keep her from Sir Percival. The happiness your wedded life should bring you both will amply reward me for cny effort I may make in AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 163 your behalf. If the Prince permits me to dedicate your bode to him the publishers will fight foi the priv- ilege of printing it and your fortune is made, Tom Moore." " But we have quarrelled," said J.Ioore, hopelessly. " Capital ! " cried his lordship, " Nc woman tiffs with a man to whom she is indifferent. It is the sex's sweet perversity. Then, again, Tom Moore famous, for you 'II never be more than ' Tom ' if success is yours — the public loves a familiar diminutive, sir — will be a different Moore from Thonas Moore unknown." " Ah, sir, you put new courage in my heart," said Moore, catching the young nobleman's infectious enthusiasm. " I '11 put money in your purse, which is even better, lad," replied Brooking, plunging his hand in his pocket, from which he drew it forth filled with coins of various denominations. " Write me a sonnet to send to my lady love." " I '11 do it gladly," said Moore, seating himself at the table and with feverish haste drawing towards him pen and paper. " Is the lady blonde or brunette?" Lord Brooking hesitated for a moment. •' Curst if I know," thought he, " since I have never laid eyes on her." Then he continued, addressing Moore : " Brunette, dark hair and blue eyes, and a devilishly sweet and mischievous mouth." "Very well, sir," replied Moore, dipping his pen in the ink. " One second, Mr. Moore. Here are five sovereigns in advance." ■ ; ^; I n 1 » »i i ,;l 1 i ^ u 164 OM MOORE His lordship dropped the coins upon the table as Moore looked up at him, gratitude dumbing hi ongue for the moment. " Finish the verses at your leisure," continued Brooking. " I am in no hurry for them." " God bless you, sir," stammered Moore, finding speech at last. "You have brought new life and hope to me this day. I 'H never forget your gener- osity." " Tut, tut," said his lo lip, hastily. " Never mind thanking me. If all goes well you are to get married and be happy if you wish to please me." " I promise I '11 do my best," replied the poet, smil- ing more cheerfully than in days, " My hat and cloak, boy," said Brooking. " I "11 off to Carlton House, where I am expected by Wales even now." " I can hardly believe I am the same man, my lord," said Moore. " You have changed me completely, sir." " You '11 hear from me soon, Tom," said Brooking, hat in hand, as he crossed to the door. " Be of good cheer, my lad, for if Wales will have none of it, I '11 accept the dedication, and I flatter myself that will be enough to insure publication for you. Good-bye for the present." " Good-bye, my lord," answered Moore, closing the door behind his benefactor with almost reverential care. " Mr. Moore," said Buster. " Yes, my lad." "Was that Lord Brooking?" "Yes, Buster. Why do you ask?" AN UNEXPECTE D VISITOR 165 " Coz Hi thought as 'ow he was a bloomin' hangel," said Buster. " Ah, lad, I 'm not sure that you are not right," an- swered Moore, and there was no laughter in his voice. >/« I T Chapter Fourteen SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE IS FAVORED BT FORTUNE MOORE lost no time before setting out to make a little payment on account to all of his creditors residing in the neighborhood, so Buster, left to his own devices, extended a broom- stick towards Lord Ca tlereagh in a manner tempting in the extreme. Being of a congenial and obliging disposition, the bulldog secured a firm grip and then endeavored to wrest it from his master's grasp. A rough and tumble tug-of-war ensued, the fini'-.h being an aerial performance by Lord Castlereagh, who made a flying trip around Buster as that worthy youth, ex- erting his muscle to the utmost, swung stick, dog and all in a circle clear of the floor. Having exhausted himself without accomplishing the release of the stick from the bulldog's jaws, Buster had a brilliant inspi- ration and outraged precedent by washing his face and hands, it being his custom to perform ablutions only on arising in the morning unless detected and otherwise admonished by his master. Before he had finished drying himself a warning growl from his four- legg^ J playfellow gave notice that some one was app- caching. Buster opened the door in answer to a loud knock and found himself confronted by two elegantly attired SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE 167 gentlemen, who willingly entered the room in response to his hospitable greeting. " Hullo," said Sir Percival, coolly eying Buster through his glass with an amused smile. " Who are you?" Buster was distinctly pleased with the baronet. Sir Percival's stalwart form vas clad in the latest fashion, which set off his handsome person to great advantage, but in spite of his distinguished appear- ance, his manner in addressing the boy was so gen- uinely aflFable and good-natured that it placed them in sympathy at once. Where Buster liked ne was prone to admire eventually ; when he both liked and admired at first sight he became like clay in the potter's hands. " Who am Hi, sir? " repeated he, " Why Hi 'me the Reverend Doctor Buster of Hall Souls's Chapel." " Indeed ? " observed Sir Percival. " Delighted to make your acquaintance, Doctor." *' We want none of your slack," growled the baro^ net's companion. " Tut ! " said Sir Percival, " let the boy have his joke. Is Mr. Moore at home ? " " No, sir," replied Buster, giving a hard look at Farrell, for Sir Percival's companion was none other. " 'Ee 's never 'ome at such times, sir." "What times?" demanded Farrell, gruRy. " Times wen 'ee is hout," replied the boy, delighted at having entrapped the object of his dislike, for he was as much displeased with the young man as he was favorr- 1y impressed with his more amiable com- panion. Sir Percival laughed gently at his compan- ion's discomfiture. ■ 68 TOM MOORE if " I am an old friend of Mr. Moore," he said to Buster. " May I wait till he returns?" " Yessir," replied Buster. " You can make yourself comfortibble in my liabsence. I ham about to give his lordship a breather." " 1 lis lordship ? " edioed Sir Percival. " May I ask whom you so designate?" " Certingly. Come 'ere, Pupsy." The bulldog gambolled across the room to the boy, and standing up on his hind legs playfully attempted to bite off one of his trouser buttons. " Sich manners, hand hin front o' comp'ny too," said Buster, chidingly. " Down, sir. Hallow me to hin- troduce Lord Castlereagh, the champeen fighter of the neighborhood. Say 'ow-dy-do, Pupsy." Lord Castlereagh obediently threw up his great head and barked cheerfully in welcome. This done, he sat down on his haunches and extended his paw, which the baronet shook heartily. "Who named the dog?" demanded Sir Percival, helping himself to a seat on the stool nearest him. •' I basked Mr. Moore to suggest a suitable cognomy, hand that 's wot 'ee chose. 'Ee hallows has \ w hit was wonderously happropriate, sir." " I quite agree with your master." replied the baro- net. " You said you were going out. Pray do not let me detain you." " Hall right, sir," said Buster, taking his cap from its n^.il behind the door. " Mr. Moore will return from 'is drive in 'Yde Park in 'arf an hour. Hi won't be very long. Come hon. Pupsy." Opening the door he hurried along the hall and down the stairs with Lord Castlereagh yelpmg delight- SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE 169 ni edly in headlong pursuit a^ Sir Pcrcival rose froii his seat and strolled carelessly around the attic, liuniniing so^'tly to himself as he prosecuted his investigation. Meanwhile Farrcll, seated in Moore's arm-chair, pre- served a gloomy silence. " So," said the baronet, disd-T ifully, " this is the abode of geniua? Upon my v, tl as bare and unat- tractive a kennel as I have eve .xplored." " You drag^'cd me here against u,y will, Sir Perci- val," responded Farrell, uneasily. " When you have satisfied your curiosity let us go. I have no wish to encounter .^Ijorc." " Tut," said Sir Percival, reprovingly. " there is no necessity for our haste, we saw the wcthy gentleman leave here, Terence. Walkin;^ at the rate at which he started he must be half way to Pall Mall by this time." " If he does not turn back," objected Farrcll. " You can't be sure how long he intended to continue in that direction. Sir Percival." " That can hardly be considered as ? disadvantage," responded the baronet, airily, " since i Ids a pleasant tinge of risk to our adventure which lerwise could not be termed hazardous, thoncrfi \ hat difference dis- covery would make I really f-'i' to sec." " That is all very v. "i fur you, said Farrcll, crossly, " but I want no more sach beatings as he gave me in Ireland. I was in bed a week." " You were suitably recompensed for your discom- fort, Terence. Thanks to you, Bessie and her father accepted my proposition to come to London, turning a deaf ear to the impassioned explanations of the worthy but misguided Thomas." " Oh, I 'm smart enough to accomplish the wishes lyo TO M MOORE • i I; fa d of Other people," replied Farrell, bitterly, " but I can- not seem to materially advance my own fortunes," " Yet, I see little reason for your dissatisfaction. Finding myself in need of such a clever brain in Lon- don I brought you here ostensibly to read law. You have the benefit of my popularity in the social world. Surely for a young and unknown Irishman to be com- paratively intimate with the Prince's own set is an honor? You don't know when you are ucll off, my young misanthrope." " That is as it may be," said Farrell, not at all im- pressed by his patron's eulogy of the advantage af- forded him by his present situation. " But," said Sir Pcrcival knowingly, " think what an education for a young and ambitious beau a close and personal study of George Brummell must of ne- cessity be. By the way he spoke very highly of you at Sam Rogers's house only yesternight." "Did he?" asked Farrell, eagerly. "May I ask you to repeat his words, Sir Pcrcival ? " " To be sure, my boy," said the elder man, genially. " Let me see. If I recollect correctly, his exact words vk^ere, ' Young Farrell possesses great sartorial possi- bilities now in a state of gradual but progressive devel- opment, his innate refinement of taste being at the present time slightly obscured and handicapped by a provincial anarchism of selection due to youth's in- evitable cheerfulness in the choice of color, and rather crude harmonizing of shade.' There is a tribute for you, Terence." Farrell flushed with pleasure. Secretly ambitious to outshine even the great leader of fashion himself, he found his aspirations seriously interfered with by the :,■ I I SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE 171 limited income allowed him by his patron. It must not be thought, however, that Sir Percival was niggardly in his treatment of Farrell. In truth he was far more generous than ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have been under the same circumstances, but it could hardly be expected that the allowance given even by a free-handed patron to a clever protege would suffice to dethrone such an all-powerful monarch of society as at this time was George Brummell, f'miliarly known in the circle he graced as the Beau. xNeverthe- less the handsome face and tasteful costumes of the young Irishman had begun to attract some little atten- tion in London society, a circumstance that filled his h^art with more than ordinary satisfaction, for Farrell VI as clear-headed enough to see that the vogue of Brummell, who was almost as renowned for wit and impertinent frankness as for dress, even in his associa- tion with Royalty itself, must sooner or later come to an end when by some characteristically insolent jest he should lose the favor of the Prince of Wales, now his close friend and patron. Some years later this very disaster apprehended by Farrell occurred, and when the impoverished and heartbroken Brummell was starving in a mean garret in Calais, it was the brilliant young Irishman, his pretensions now sup- ported by the vast wealth of the ugly old widow whom he had meanwhile married, who reigned as first fop and dandy of the United Kingdom, until the summer Sunday morning came on which he went bravely to his death for slapping the face of Sir Dudley Brilbanke, who had made a slighting remark on beaus in general and Brummell in particular, which the successor to the unfortunate man then in exile felt bound to resent. 172 TOM MOORE a • Ml ^i -^ In the meantime Sir Percival had been poking about on the tabic which was still littered with the manu- scripts thrown upon it during Moore's interview wath Lord Brooking. " To Bessie ! " murmured the baronet in an amused tone. " Our rhymer wastes a vast number of sheets in that young lady's name. — ' The Meeting of the Waters,' ' She is Far from the Land,' ' Oft in the Stilly Night,' ' Love's Young Dream.' Will these ever see print, I wonder ? " " On that I '11 stake my life. Sir Percival," responded Farrell. " Though I dislike Tom Moore with all my heart, I know he is a genius in his line. If he will only keep his courage in the face of disappointment there is no man who will achieve more success in the writing of verses, I feel certain." " Dear me," said Sir Percival, taking snuflF, " if such is really the truth, I '11 have to interest myself in his affairs again. Hullo, what is this ? " As he spoke, the baronet drew from the heap of manuscripts the verses satirizing the Prince of Wales written and left in Moore's keeping by Mr. Dyke, which the poet had accidentally taken from the drawer when he flung his armful of rejected poems on the table before Lord Brooking. Sir Percival scanned the verses, his dubious ex- pression changing to one of great delight as he rea on, until as he finished he laughed aloud. " What is it pleases you. Sir Percival ? " " Egad, Terence, I *ve happened on a treasure. A satire on the Prince. Gad, he cooks Wales to a cinder. Listen, Terence. SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE 173 "•THE BRAIN OF ROYALTY. *• It is of scraps and fragments built, Borrowed aiiks from Fools and Wits, — His mind is like a patchwork quilt Made up of motley, cast-off bits. Poor Prince I And how else could it be, His notions all at random caughi, His mind a mental fricassee Made up of odds and ends of thought.' " And so on for several more verses. The Regent has n't had such a toasting in many a day. I swear I 'II have this pubHshed immediately." "Ah," said Farrell, "and why, sir?" " 'T will ruin Moore," replied the baronet, regarding the other in surprise. Farrell surveyed the attic with a contemptuous stare before answering. " Surely, Sir Percival, this shabby hole is not indic- ative of either success or affluence," said he slowly. " One does not dig into the earth to crush a worm under foot." " You speak in riddles, Terence," observed Sir Per- cival, pleasantly puzzled, " I '11 make my meaning plain, sir. Tom Moore does not annoy you now. Wait till he succeeds, if he ever does so, before you publish that poem. The time to spoil his career is when he has accomplished some- thing and is about to climb higher. He is starving here." " Stab me, if you are not right, Terence," exclaimed the baronet, approvingly. " I will keep this bit of humor in reserve, and you shall be witness that I found it fresh from Moore's pen upon his table." wm 174 TOM MOORE i - * i :• ? " Willingly," said Farrell. " Meanwhile, continue your pursuit of Mistress Dyke, ^re you making progress there ? " '' As yet I 've gained no ground at all so far as I can see," replied Sir Percival in a discontented tone. " True, I have apparently won her trust and friendship, but that is because my behavior has been above criti- cism. No young curate could be more circumspect and exemplary than I have been. To tell the truth, Terence, I am cursed weary of being respectable." " I can understand how irksome such restraint must be to you, Sir Percival," said Farrell, carelessly, " but you must play your own hand. I have helped you all I can in the securing of cards. My trick in the school- house ruined Moore in the girl's estimation, thus clear- ing the way for your approach." "Quite so.' observed Sir Percival, cordially, "and since he is powerless to thwart me I can take my own time about the chase." " Speaking of time, Sir Percival," said Farrell, ris- ing to his feet, " we can't linger here much longer. Come, let us go." " Tut, Terence," said the baronet, disapprovingly, " how nervous you are." At this moment Moore opened the door and, striding into the room, gave an exclamation of surprise as he recognized his visitors. " Mr. Moore, as I live," said Sir Percival, gently. " Sir, we have been waiting f 3r you." " What do you want here, Sir Percival? " demanded Moore, gruffly, glaring at Farrell, who was manifestly ill at ease. " I thought I 'd look you up for old times' sake," SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE 175 replied the baronet, a sneer breaking through his smile for once. " Mr. Farrell came r.t my request." Moore stepped to the door and opened it. " Then he will leave at mine," he said, sharply. " Get along, Terence, before I do you n injur>'." Farrell did not hesitate. Waving his hat in farewell to Sir Percival, he walked ruickly out of the attic and started downstairs as Moore slammed the door loudly after him. Sir Percival laughed good naturedly, and rose to his feet as Moore returned from the doorway. " I called, Mr. Moore, to say that it has reached my ea^s that you are in want. Is this true?" " I would want a long time before I would ask you for anything but your absence," replied Moore, hotly. " If you desire to return to Ireland, I will be pleased to pay your way," continued the baronet, suavely. " If you will go to the devil I will be pleased to assist in your departure, Sir Percival. Hurry, or I may do it now." " You are not polite, sir." " My politeness would be wasted upon such as you," answered Moore. " That is a point that might be Tgued," observed Sir Percival in his most genial manner. " Am I to regard your answer as final. Mr. Moore ? " " Quite final. Now be so kind as to go." " If you desire it, with pleasure." Moore opened the door that Sir Percival might pass out and found himself face to face with Bessie Dyke, who had paused on the threshold preparatory to knocking. 176 TOM MOORE - r JIM i] i\ ^i\' "You, Bessie?"' he stammered, for the moment completely confused. Bessie was not at all embarrassed until, on enter; g, her eye fell on Sir Percival. Then she blushed slightly, but after a momentary hesitation turned to Moore and said: " I thought my father was here, or I should not have ventured up." " He was here a while ago and I expect him to re- turn any moment," answered Moore, eagerly taking his cue from Bessie. " A note came to the house for him marked ' Imme- diate,' " continued the girl, fibbing adroitly, " so I thought best to follow him here." " Won't you wait for him ? " asked Moore, pushing forward the arm-chair. " I fancy," said Sir Percival, " I fancy Mistress Dyke will not care to remain here s'nce her father is absent." " Why not ? " demanded Moore, angrily. " This is scarcely the place nor the company for a lady to remain in," replied the baronet. " When you go. Sir Percival,"' said Moore, more calmly, " the only objectionable feature will be re- moved." Sir Pc "cival did not deign to reply to this rudeness, but, stepping towards the girl, extended his arm in mute invitation. Mistress Dyke, however, had plans of her own. and was not to be thus led away. " I thank you, Sir Percival," said she, " but I shall wait for my father." Sir Percival raised his eyebrows disapprovingly, but was too wise to insist further, so took his departure SIR PERCIVAL LOVELACE 177 with a courtly bow to the girl, and a sneering smile for Moore, who, quite unruffled, lighted an extra pair of candles in honor of his visitor. As the soui 1 of the baronci's steps died away in the hall Bessie gave a sigh of relief and sank down in the chair. Moore hesitated, then taking courage came to her side. " Ah, Bessie," he said, softly. " I 've been starving for a sight of you. It is like the old times 10 see you again." " But," said the girl in a chilly tone, " the old times are passed and done with. Nothing is as it was." "You are wrong, Bessie," said Moore, gently. "My heart is the same." Bessie rose from the chair and drew her shawl closer about her shoulders. " Then it belongs to Winnie Farrell," she said in a determined tone Moore winced as though he had received a blow. Nevertheless h-s voice was clear and unfaltering as he answered : " Winnie Farrell is married to the man of her choice. Surely there is no need to throw her name in my face when I tell you that I love you ? " " You told Winnie the same thing," said Bessie, coldly. Moore gave an exclamation of pain. " I 've explained that misunderstanding a score of times," he said, bitterly. " I'hey tricked me that you might think me unworthy of your trust and so be persuaded to come to London. Like a fool I walked into the trap and you believed me faithless. On my honor, you wronged me, dearest I 've loved but you 12 178 TOM MOORE 'i\ ill!!! 1 Ressic ; you are all in all to me. mavourneen. Won't you — can't you — believe me ? " Bessics lips trembled as she averted her face, but her voice showed no signs of relenting as she answered : " Whether you love mc or not matters very little to mc, Mr. Moore." " The applause at Drury Lane has changed you, Bessie. You arc like all the others ; one glimpse of the footlights and the rest of the world may go hang." " Nonsense ! " said the girl. " I don't care a snap of my fingers for the theatre. I was never intended to be an actress." " I know," assented the poet, " you were meant to be Mrs. Moore, darling." " I think you are quite mistaken, sir." " How cold you are to me." cried Moore in despair. "Is it because— ? No, I can't believe //zo^ Bessie, you don't care for Sir Pcrcival ? " " Really, Mr. Moore, I cannot discuss my private affairs with you," said Bessie in a voice so cold and proud that Moore abandoned all hope of moving her. " Then." he asked defiantlv, " why have you come here?" Bessie turned to him with a little sobbing sigh of relief. She had played her part well and kept up the artifice to the last moment required by the object which she had intended to accomplish, but the task had been more difficult than she had expected. " Why ? " she cried, her voice thrilling with love and happiness. " To tell you that you need battle with poverty no longer, Tom IVIoore. You have v n, Tom, you have won. Fame, fortune — all that you have !!■- 11 I «*.: i! ■n SIR PF.RCIVAI. LOVELACE 179 dreamed of and fought for so long — so patiently and courageously — shall be yours. I bring you a message from the Prince of Wales." " From the Prince ? " gasped Moore. "Yes, Tom. He accepts the dedication of your book. Lord Brooking sent mc to tell you the news." " You mean it, Bessie? " cried the half-frantic poet, as the door was sent slamming back by the entrance of Lord Brooking with Buster and the bulldog close at his heels. " Lord Brooking, is it true ? " " The Prince declares himself honored by the dedi- cation," replied his lordship triumphantly. " Mc- Dermot publishes your book in a week." Moore gave a choking sob of joy as he groped his way toward his benefactor. " At last ! " he whispered, " at last ! " a-; 1 buried his face on his lordship's sturdy shoulder, his eyes full of glad tears. " There, there, Tom," said the young nobleman. " It is quite true. Your luck has finally changed. There shall be no more striving and starving for you, my good lad. Your fortune is made." " Ah," cried Moore, turning to where Bessie stood, her hands tightly clasped and her face radiant with gla(l?iess as she watched her lover's realization of the truth. "You hear, Bessie? It's success, girl, it's fortune and renow.i. Aye, fortune, Bessie. Now you will marry me?" The girl turned white with anger and shame. Moore had made a fatal choice of the words with which he re-declared his love, never thinking his meaning could be misunderstood. i8o TOM MOORE ttl !♦ " Tom," said Lord Brooking, warningly, but Bessie interrupted him before he could put things right. " How dare you ? " she cried, her cheeks suddenly flaming as she faced the luckless poet. " Bessie ? "' cried Moore appealingly, seeing his error too late. " How dare you ? " she repeated, her voice quivering as she stamped her foot in her anger. " Fortune ! You hurl the word in my face as though I were to be bought by wealth. Do you think because prosperity has come I must of necessity change my answer? You believe you could bribe me to say ' Yes ' with your success. Oh, how could you, Tom Moore?" " Xo, no, Bessie," cried the poet, " you know I did not think that." " Hush, sir," she answered, moving towards the door with downcast eyes. " I beg of you to listen to mc, Bessie. You know — you must know — I coulil not think what you fear?" " Let mc go, sir. Lord Brooking, I appeal to you." His lordship touched Moore on the shoulder as the poet sought to prevent the departure of the enraged girl. " Some other time, Tom. Words can do no good now," he said, softly. Moore withdrew h's hand from Bessie's arm and she opened the door as he stepped back. " Have you nothing to say to me?" he murmured, hoarsely, as she turned on the threshold. " Yes," she answered. " I hate you, I hate you," and closed the door. For a moment Moore stood staring at the spot where she had paused , then he turned wilh an oath. II I i SIR PHRCIVAL LOVELACE i8i " You heard that, Lord Brooking? " he cried bitterly " You saw that? That ends it all. I m through with the old dream forever. I 'U go back to Ireland. Back to the green fields and rippling brooks. I 'm through with London. I ve starved here. It has broken my heart and I hate it. In Ireland I will be with my fiKuds — my own people. There I will forget her. I will learn to hate her. Aye, to hate her." And he threw himself heavily into his arm-chair. Lord Brooking stepped qukkly forward. " You are right. Moore," said he. " Tear her from your heart." " Yes," cried the poet, desperately. " There are other women much more fair than she. Co back to Ireland and forget her " " I will, sir." "Leave her to Sir Pcrcival Lovelace!" Moore started to his feet with a cry of protest. *' No. I 'm damned if I do, Lord Brooking." "Ah." said his lordship, greatly relieved. "I thought you would change your mind." p p j i, i4 u: •■ i Jil : ! >l?i ■:n\ ■> Hi; . -f ' 1 Book Three " 9!" ', "^.^"^ ""'^ ^"^^ made for, if it 's not the same Thro' Joy and thro' torment, thro' glory and shame ? I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, i hut know that I love thee^ whatever thou art." ^^^, Chapter Fifteen SETS FORTH CERTAIN EXPLANA- TIONS LORD BROOKIXG spoke truly when he de- clared that the dedication of Moore's volume of poems accepted by the Prince would bring fame and prosperity to the young Irishman, who had toiled with such enthusiasm and unwavering diligence in paraphrasing and adapting the Odes of Anacreon. Arrayed and ornamented by his brilliant fancy, owing as much to their translator as to Anacreon 'himself, they were given to the world and received with such choruses of commendation from both the public and the critics that the reputation of Thomas Moore was firmly established by his first book. Society delighted itself by showing favor to the author :-. had hitherto neglected. Moore became a stranger to privation and occupied the best suite in the dwelling presided over by Mrs. Malone, who now was numbered in the -anks of his greatest admirers. In fact the old woman seemed to take a personal pride in the social success of her lodger, and followed with an enthusiasm worthy of a better cause his course in the upper world as traced by the papers in their reports of the diversions of the aristocracy. Moore remained quite unchanged by his sudden good fortune. Never even in his dark- est hour had he doubted that he deserved success, and. 1 86 TOM MOORE m f.li 1 If ■ I rv now that it had come, he accepted it as his just earn- ings and valued it as nothing more, though jubilant that his merits had at last been recognized. His re- ception by the world of society was more than flatter- ing. Where he was invited first because he was the poetic lion of the season he was asked again on account of his own charming personality. Moore the poet opened the door of the drawing-room for Moore the society man, who was forthwith made an honored and much-sought guest. He sang his own songs in a melting baritone that struck a responsive chord in the hearts of young and old alike. His ballads were the most popular of the day. Romantic swains ad sentimental maidens warbled them on every possible occasion ; but none equalled in feeling and grace the manner in which they were rendered by the hitherto unknown youth who had penned them. The grand dames were often rivals in their attempts to secure the poet's presence at their musicalcs and receptions. The young bucks sought him as guest at their late suppers, while the publishers bid against one another for the privilege of printing his next book, as, in spite of his gadding about from function to function, Moore con- trived to find time to continue his literary labors. Lord Moira, thanks to the glowing representations of his nephew, made much of the poet, and through his influence Moore became acquainted with certain of the great gentlemen of the time who had but few moments to waste on social amenities, and were therefore far more exclusive than the better-known figures in the gay world drawing its guiding inspiration from Carlton House. Though Moore did not lose his head as a result of the flattery and admiration now showered it h CERTAIN EXPLANATIONS 187 upon him, it would have been strange indeed if he had not secretly exulted over the triumph he had won. His almost juvenile delight was frankly acknowledged by him in the long and loving letters he wrote to the members of his own family, who in distant Dublin gloried in the London victory of the firstborn. It was no odd or unusual thing for the poet to be seen at three or four fashionable gatherings in one evening. His presentation to the Prince of Wales, whose condescen- sion had made certain the success of the Odes, fol- lowed soon after the publication of the book, and prince and poet were equally charmed, each with the other. Moore seized upon this meeting as an oppor- tunity to tender to his Highness the thanks previously conveyed for him by Lord Brooking. To his great delight, Wales graciously declared that he considered himself honored by the dedication of the volume, and expressed a hope that they might have the opportunity of enjoying each other's society on many occasions in the near future. Moore came away that evening be- longing wholly to the Regent, for, when that noble gentleman willed it so, no one could be more charming, and as his Highness was distinctly taken with the clever and modest young poet, he saw fit to be more than usually condescending and agreeable. He had chatted genially with Moore en literary topics of pres- ent interest, complimented him on the grace and rip- pling beauty of his translation of the Odes, and warmly applauded the young Irishman's singing of several of his own ballads. Taking all things into considera- tion, Moore had every reason except one to be content with his present lot. That the single disturbing ele- ment in his existence was the m.isunderstandinff with i88 TOM MOORE Bessie Dyke need scarcely be asserted. They met fre- quently in society, for, thanks to the influence of Sir ^'ercival, the doors which Moore had pried apart by mighty effort with his pen, had opened in easy wel- cfjnie to the beautiful young actress, who, though C(jl(lly pleasant in her demeanor, made no attempt to conceal her desire to avoid Moore when the opportu- nity offered. As he, hurt and hopeless, made but little effort to force his company upon her, they might have been comparative strangers for all the evidence of mutual interest they gave at the various social gather- ings when they chanced to meet, so, though several months had elapsed since Moore emerged from ob- scurity, no progress had been made in his love affair. 3ir Percival Lovelace had contemplated his rival's sudden rise to fame with interest, not unmixed with cynical amusement, his humorous sensibilities being rarely tickled at his own discomfiture, for this pleasant gentleman was philosopher enough to extract cause for merriment from his own disappointments and mis- calculations. But the real reason for the toleration exhibited by the baronet was the confidence he felt that he had in his possession a weapon which, when he chose to wield it, would not fail 'o utterly destroy Moore in the estimation and good graces of the Re- gent, for Sir Percival felt certain that the loss of royal favor would result in the social ruin of his rival. As he thought he had ascertained by various means that there was comparatively little likelihood of the differ- ences between Bessie and her lover being patched up. Sir Percival had held back the blow which he intended should completely demolish the prosperity of the poet, deciding to allow Moore to climb even higher on the mmsm. CERTAIN EXPLANATIONS 189 ladcer of fortune before knocking it from beneath his feet, that a greater fall might follow. But meanwhile the baronet had not been idle in other directions. Like many other gentlemen of the quill, Robin Dyke imag- ined that he was possessed of much ability in affairs of finance, and as numerous opportunities were ever at hand for indulgence in such hazards as are afforded by stock speculation to the unwary, he succeeded in quickly and secretly losing all the money he made over and above the funds necessary to maintain the modest little home tenanted by himself and daughter. After much mental debating he mentioned his indiscretion to his patron, who, scenting immediately a chance to secure a much-desired hold upon the foolish old i tie- man, at his own suggestion loaned Dyke three hundred pounds, taking notes at ninety days' sight in exchange for the sum. stipulating that the matter should be kept from Bessie. Dyke, naturally reluctant to admit the previous ill-success of his investments to his daughter, readily consented to accept this condition, and without more ado proceeded to send good money after bad by repeating his financial mistakes. This time he hesi- tated very little before acquainting Sir Percival with his lack of success, and found no difficulty in securing r further loan of another three hundred pounds, the investment of which resulted in even more brilliant disaster than before. Sanguine ever of ultimate suc- cess which should retrieve the losses already incurred, the worthy but foolish old rhymer increased his in- debtedness to Sir Percival until he owed him in all one thousand pounds without Bessie having even a suspicion of the true state of affairs. Time passed and the notes matured, but Dyke, having no means III 190 TOM MOORE of settling, frankly announced the fact to his patron and received reassuring smiles in return, a reply which fully contented him. The baronet affected to be quite indifferent as to the length of the period he mijjht have to wait for his money, and told Dyke to take his own time in repaying him. This the old gentle- man proceeded to do and thus made possible the events to be described in succeeding chapters. n )n •h te ce e- ts Chapter Sixteen TOM MOORE SEPARATES A YOUNG LADY FROM HER SKIRT IT was at the splendid mansion of Lady Donegal that Moore first met Mr. Sheridan. Introduced to the famous wit by no less a person than George Brumr. 11 himself, Moore found not unwor- thily bestowed the reverence he had felt from his boy- hood for the brilliant but erratic Irishman whose pre- vious success in the fashionable world of London had served to render less difficult the progress of his younger countryman when once begun, and on this evening was laid the foundation of the friendship destined to endure until the melancholy end of the elder genius. Mr. Walter Scott, as yet famed only for his verse romances, for this was some years before the fiery genius of Lord Byron, now a fat youth at Eton, drove the genial Scotchman from the lyric field into the world of prose where he has reigned supreme even to this day, was another notable with whom Moore became immediately and delightfully intimate. The sturdy intellect of Scott, who infused his vigorous personality into all that flowed so readily from his pen, was delighted and amazed at the grace ajid beauty of the Irishman's more delicate imagery, while the refined and subtler fancy of the younger poet was filled with wonder by the other's stirring, rakehelly ! ■ I 192 TOM MOORE border ballads. Scott was the sturdy, gnarled, and defiant oak in the literary forest; Moore the tender, clinging ivy, enfolding and beautifying all that he touched and lingered on. Xo wonder, then, that their adniiration should be rccii)rocal. The intimate crony of these brilliant men, the hostess herself was a woman of refined taste and much personal charm. In her Moore found a true and admiring friend, and when- ever he, for business or pleasure, was compelled to absent himself from London, a delightful correspon- dence was kept up, as pleasing to the great lady of fashion as to the poet, for Moore, ever a favorite among men, was not less popular with the opposite sex. no matter what their rank in the world might be. While he had good reason to treasure the friendship of Lady Donegal for the sake of the brilliant acquaint- ances whom he met at her mansion for the first time, even a more t^iider and pleasing opportunity for grati- tude was to be afforded him, for here it was that tran- spired the series of incide- which resulted finally m his reconciliation with Bt le Dyke. On the night in question Moore arrived in company with Sheridan and Brummell, the two Irishmen having spied the Beau in a cab driving to the reception at Lady Donegal's as they were making their way toward the same destination nn foot. They hailed the vehicle, and when the driver had pulled up in obedience to a signal somewhat unwillingly given by Brummell. climbed in with hardly as much as a beg your leave, making themselves quite comfortable in spite of the remonstrances of the crowded and berumpled dandy. the tb ee thus reaching her ladyship's great mansion torr^tncr. A LADY AND HER SKIRT 193 Mo'^ro paid his respects to his hostess, then, after a br. jcssion in the card-room with Mr. Sheridan, which resulted in the enrichment of the elder Celt to the extent of two guineas, made his way to a room usually little frequented by the less intimate company, intending to give definite shape in black and white to a new song as yet unwritten, the garbled and uncom- I)leted verses of which had been running and jumping in his head all day. Much to his surprise. Moore found the writing desk in use, the young lady who was busy scribbling being no other than Bessie Dyke. His first impulse was to make a quiet exit, trusting to his noiselessness to effect escape undiscovered, but reflecting that, as hitherto he had not had so excellent an opportunity for an iminterrupted conversation, he would be foolish to allow such a chance for attempting to right himself in her estimation *o go unutilized, he thought better of it, and so remained, announcing his presence by a polite little cough, highly suggestive of a timidity but slightly feigned. Bessie looked up from her writing, then continued her occupation until she had completed her task. "Am I interrupting you, Mistress Pyke?" "Does it look as though you were, Mr. Moore?" she asked, tartly. " Not exactly," he admitted, not at all encouraged by her manner ; " but appearances are deceiving, you know." " I usually accept them as conclusive," said she, folding the sheet of paper which she had just finished. " I know you do," said Moore, plaintively. " It is a bad habit to get into." >3 I if , ^ 194 T O M MO R E " No doubt you speak as an authority on the subject, Mr. Moore?" " On bad habits ? It if a bad habit I have of speak- ing, you mean, Mistress Dyke?" Bessie nodded and turned toward him, resting one chubby elbow upon the tlcsk. " How London has changed you," sighed Moore, regretfully, shaking his head as he spoke. "And you ?" said the girl in a critical tone. " Surely ^fr. Thomas Moore, the friend of the Prince, is very diherent from an unknown Irish rhymer?" "Rhymer?" repeated he. "I see you have been talking with Sir Percival." " To be sure," said Bessie. " So pleasant and witty a gentleman is worthy of attention." Moore sighed, and drawing a chair nearer to the desk sat down and crossed his legs comfortably. " See here, Bessie," he said in his most persua- sive tones, "why should we quarrel in this foolish fashion ? " The girl laughed in rather an embarrassed way and shifted a little on the chair. " If there is some other fashion in which you would prefer to quarrel, perhaps it will be as acceptable as this," she replied, lightly. " Will you never be serious?" demanded the poet. " Why should I be serious, sir?" " To please me, if for no other reason." " Ah, but why should I wish to please you Mr Moore?" " It is a woman's duty to make herself agreeable." " Not to every impudent young versifier who thinks to do her honoi with his attention," replied Bessie, 0^^. A LADY AND HER SKIRT »95 smiling mischievously as she rebuked an unruly ringlet with one dimpled hand. " But I have no such idea," protested Moore, quite baffled by her behavior. " No ? Surely a young man who proposes marriage to two different girls in one afternoon must think very well of himself ? " Moore groaned, and gave the girl an appealing glance that failed to accomplish anything. " Ah, Bessie, you have no heart! " "Have you, Mr. Moore?" " You have had it these two years, Bessie," he re- plied, fervidly. " You are quite mistaken, sir," quoth she, in tones of conviction. " I would have no use for such a thing, so would not accept it. You are thinking of some other girl, Mr. Moore." " T am thinking of you, Bessie." " Then you are wasting your time, Mr. Moore, and I '11 thank you to say ' Mistress Dyke ' in the future when you address me." " I 'd like to say ' Mrs. Moore,' " replied the poet. "What did you say, sir?" she demanded shortly, an angry flash in her eyes. " I said I 'd know more some day." " That is certainly to be hoped," said Bessie. " One should be sanguine, no matter how futile such cheer- fulness may appear at the present time." So far Moore had succeeded but poorly in breaking down the girl's reserve, and though painfully con- scious of his failure, was nevertheless quite resolved that the interview should not end with their present attitudes unaltered. ig6 TOM MOORE \m Ml That she herself was not averse to Hstening to his arguments this evening was already fully proved, for she had made no effort to conclude their conversation, and in fact seemed waiting with no little interest for the next attempt he might make to restore himself to his old-time place in her regard. " Mistress Dyke," hcgan Moore, hopefull), favoring the girl with a look as languishing as love could make It, " do you know what your mouth reminds me of as you sit there ? " Cherries ? " suggested the girl promptly. " I hc- lieve that is the usual comparison made bv lanic-witted poets." " No, indeed. Cherries conceal pits, and. as vou no doubt remember, Joseph fell into one. Now I am no Joseph." " Xo," said Bessie. " You are more like Charles Surface, T fancy." •' Never mind mixing the Drama with this con- versation," replied Moore, chidingly. "Forget for a moment that you are an actress and remember vou are a woman, though no doubt it amounts to the same thing." " W ell, what docs my mouth remind vou of, Mr. Moore?" asked the girl, her curiosity 'getting the better of her. " Of better thitigs, Mistress Dyke." "Indeed? What may they be, sir?" '' Kisses," replied the poet lightly. " Ah, Bessie, it is glad that I am that your mouth' is no smaller." '' And why so? " she asked, suspiciously. " The smaller a woman's mouth, the greater the temptation." m r. •A ^W^^^^Aj^^^^^^Ar^^^P^T' LirM ' .- -V- h^'. i I 3 I H ^^ii' W in I 1 i I iHMMI ■M A LADY AND HKR SKIRT 197 " I that what you call me ? " " Vuiir mouth, my dear. Alluring is no name for it. Temptation? Aye, that it is. Twin ribbons of rosy temptation, or I "m no Irishman." " We \\\ dwell upon that subject," announced Bessie. " If I were a honey-bee, I 'd live and die there," said Moore, sincerely. " Where ? " asked the girl. " On the subject, // / were a honey-bee." " The subject is closed," she answered, compressing her lips in anything but an amiable expression. " 1 don't like it so well that way." " How you like it does not interest me at all, sir." " Now I wish to speak to you seriously," said Moore with becoming gravity. " Please give me your attention." " I am listening, sir," she answered, a trifle uneasily. " \'ery well, then. Don't you think women should trv to n ake men better?" " Yes." " And to reduce their temptations ? " " Yes." " Then, for instance, if you had a loaf of bread you did not need and knew a man was starving for it, would n't you rather give it to him than have him steal it and be responsible for the sin ? " '• Yes." said Bessie, " I would, undoubtedly." " Ah." exclaimed Moore, happily, " then if I tell you I am starving for a kiss and feel afraid I may steal it, you will give me one to put me out of temptation ? " "On the contrary, I shall request you to cease talking nonsense, and suggest that yr,u had better sit down." ■MB •98 TOM MOORE . I 3 it Mi i ■■■ !l: " I will, if it pleases you," replied JMoore, smiling sweetly at the girl, as he resumed the chair from which he had risen in his eagerness a moment before. " Oh," said Bessie, in a sarcastic tone, " you think you are very clever, don't you?" " Why should I deny it ? A good opinion is like charity, and should begin at home." " Does any one else think you are clever, Mr, Moore?" " I don't know," answered the poet cheerfully ; " but if they do not, it only makes my opinion more valuable on account of its rarity." IJcssie was compelled to sn-ile by this ingenious argument, and sought refug-, behind her fan; but Moore, seeing he had scored, followed up his success resolutely. " As you say," he continued, " I am clever." " But," said Bessie indignantly, " I did not say that." " You forget." replied Moore, loftily, " t'lat a man's opinion of what a woman thinks is based largely on what she does not say." " You surprise me, Mr. Moore. Pray explain your last assertion." " Well, ihen, for example, I linger by your side and you do not say ' Go away," so my opinion is that you wish me to remain." " Oh," exclaimed Bessie, shocked at the mere idea of such a thing. " You do not say ' I hate you,' so my opinion is that you 1 — " " Mr. Moore," cried Bessie, sternly, and the poet diplomatically allowed her interruption to finish his remark. A LADY AND HER SKIRT 199 *' Men are so foolish," observed the girl, knitting her brows in sad contemplation of masculine idiocy, " Really it is quite saddening when one considers their stupidity." " And yet," said Moore, " if we were not such fools you wise little ladies would find it much more difficult to work your wills." " I am not so sure of that," said Bessie, with a sniff of superiority, " Men are great nuisances at best." " Had you rather I went away ? " asked Moore, in his most honeyed accents. " Shall I go? " " You must suit your own inclination, sir," replied Bessie, too clever to be so entrapped. " And you ? " he returned. " Can't you say ' I wish you to stay ' ? " " No, Mr. Moore." "And why not, Mistress Dyke?" " Girls do not say such things to men," Moore sighed regretfully. " I wish they did," said he, " Don't you like me at all any more ? " " Not very much," replied Bessie, with seeming frankness, " Won't you smile at me?" " No," said Bessie, determinedly, " I will not." As she spoke she turned away from the poet, but he was not to be so easily defeated, " Bessie," he whispered tenderly. " Smile at me, dearest, smile just once." " No," she answered firmly, " I will not. I don't have to smile if I don't wish to, do I ? " But, alas for her determination, as she replied her 200 1' O M MOOR E ^tl \ eyes met those of .Moore: the twinkhng merriment which slic read in her lover's gaze was too much for h-.r gravity, and so, in spite of her effort to keep a sober face, she smiled back at him, and if it was not the love-Iight that shone beneath her long lashes, it was a something so entirely like it that a wiser man than the young Irishman would have been pardonable for making such a mistake. '• Oh," he said, lovingly triumphant, " what do you thmk about it now?" " \\ ell," said Bessie, in quick equivocation, '* I wanted to smile then. You are very ridiculous, Mr. Moore." *' You make me so, Bessie." "What did I tell you about that name?" she de- manded, rising to her fee*, " I forgot, [Jessie." he replied defiantly. " If that is the case you shall have the opportunity to recall it to mind." said she. sternlv. at the same time moving towards the door. But her foot caught in her skirt and as she recovered her balance with a httle cry there was an ominous sound of ripnine plainly heard. " There," cried Bessie in a rage, " I 've stepped on a ruffle. It is all your fault, Tom Moore." " Of course it is," replied the poet. " It always is as we both know." Bessie, meanwhile, had investigated the extent of the damage she had sustained. The lace ruffle on her underskirt had been torn off for at least two feet The thing was utterly ruined, and, gritting her teeth as she rt-ahzed this. Bessit tried to tear off the loose piece Tins, however, proved to be beyond her strength co _J ''-*»>T?ffc?i«- h , "X > AN .,l;l \K llli; i\.\r.\ IV TIflN.., M ISTltiss j,VKl ip ^fkf:' .,«'7'-'".-'krf: - -.^fi- ■ -» TvJt-wi. i, 1 I,. A LADY AND HER SKIRT 201 abandoning the attempt with an exclamation of rage, she stamped her foot in anger. '* Let me help you," said Moore poHtcly. " No doubt, I can break the plagucy thing, Mistress Dyke." " You are the cause of all the trouble," said Bessie, crossly. " All the more reason, then, for letting me help you repair the damage. You can't dance with that trailing in front of you." Moore took the end of the ruffle which Bessie held out to him, and, securing a firm grip upon it, marched across the room, thus ripping off the entire bottom of the skirt. " Thank you," said Bessie, more graciously, extend- ing her hand for the torn piece. Moore shook his head and held the ruffle behind him. " Give it to me, sir," exclaimed the girl indignantly. " It is the foam on the wave of loveliness," declared the poet, waving his prize as though it were a pennant, but carefully keeping it out of Bessie's reach. " You cannot have it, sir." she said, sternly. " Women are enveloped in mystery," he continued, quite unrc'niked, " yards of it. If there is anything I love, it is mystery, so I '11 keep this for myself." •'Why?" " For a souvenir. Think of the memories associated with it, Bessie." " What good will it be to you ? " she asked, rather more pleasantly. " It would be a great success as a necktie," Moore went on, draping it beneath his chin. " Thusly, for instance, or I might wear it on my arm, or next my heart." - ■^ 201 TOM M O O R F itji !i :i HI: 11! " Give mc that ruffle." cried Bessie, snatching at it as she spoke, and by pood luck catching it. " Let go," commanded Moore. " If you don't I '11 kiss your hands for you." " CJh, no, you won't." But he did. " Please," pleaded the girl, not letting go. " I don't intend to keep it, Bessie, on my word of honor." Confident that she had secured her object, the girl released the ruflle and stepped back. " Thank you, Mr. Moore," said she, waiting ex- pectantly. " Oh, not at all, Mistress Dyke. What are you waiting for? " ♦' For that." ;ut you do not get this. Mistress Dyke." " But you promised, sir." " I did not say i would give it to you," explained Moore, genially. " I merely promised that I would not keep it. Well, I won't. I happew to have your card in my pocket — it 's a wonder it is n't the mitten you have presented me with so often — and this card I shall pin on the ruffle, which I shall then hang on this candelabra, where it will remain until found by some one, and what they will think of you then is beyond my power to imagine." Moore suited the action to the word as he spoke, and the bundle of frills was securely perched on the candle-rack protruding from the wall a good seven feet from the floor before Bessie fully realized how completely she had been outwitted. Then she lost her temper entirely. A LADY AND HER SKIRT 203 " You cheat." she cried furiously. " Oh, I should have known better than to trust you." " Certainly , ou should," replitil the poet, politely ugreeinfj with the irate damsel. " I was surprised myself at the simplicity of your behavior." " I lowever," she continued, " I shall never believe you again." ••Never?" "Never, Mr. Moore, and I am very angry with you." •' Really ? " asked he. " Why, whoever would have suspected it, Bessie ? " '• Luckily I can get it without your assistance," she went on. " You are not half so smart as you imagine." " Of course not," observed Moore, watching her as she stood on tiptoe and vainly endeavored to reach the cause of all the trouble. " Take care, Bessie, or you '11 tear something else." The girl was baffled only for the moment, for di- rectly beneath the candelabra stood the desk at which she had been writing a few moments before. As the tup, which when open formed the writing table, was let down, it was an easy thing for her to step up on it from the seat of a chair, and then from there to the to{) of the desk. This was what Bessie did as quickly as was possible, for she was considerably handicapped in her climbing by her long train. "There is nothing like independence," remarked the poet, observing her with a broad smile, as she performed this manoeuvre and stood in triumph on the desk. " Like marriage, it usually begins with a decla- ration and ends with a fight. It did in America." " You imagine you are wi.vy," said Bessie, in icy fm 204 I^ O M MOORE .11 I "rt tones, picking the ruffle from its perch on the can- delabra. Moore stepped quickly forward and shut up the .id Bessie, and vanished ' ehind the curtains u.r'il '""'" "" ''*''' ^''' '*'*''"^ '^'"^ '''^^ delighted ■ What 's *his, Bessie?" Xu answer iewasded his inquirv. " Oh. 1 understand." he went' on. " This is the frostmg on th- cake of beauty." Then, carefmly powden^.^. himself, he crossed to .e mirror over the mantel on the nppc.^te .u|., of the room and inspected the result of his '. )r ••Humph.- said he. -i look seasick^ VW have none ot this for r.iP." ker^chfef" '"^"'''■*°''^''^ """^^'^^^ ^is face with his hand- '• Oh do hurry up." implored the girl, fearf lest some other of th. guests should enter th. ^ ...m l ' ^e she recovered her L. lon.omgs. " I was nut made in a hurry," replied M more haste the less speed, so I '11 take m. investigations." The next thing he took from the pockc .a. a nv ■ ba.. and uhite sketch of hin.elf wh.c. had been c^Mun at a supper partv the week before ■ no less Jhst,n,^u,shed a gerulun.a than Samuel R. .ers tl ba.'.ker poet. "* ' re. e ;ime m my wat a litn HONORS ARI KASV '7 M y picture!" lie exclainicfl i n suipn.sc. II o\v did you get this, Dessu- ? " "U you iT^ust know, Mr. R. ^crs t'lrcw ii away am! , Picked it up," slic rcpHcd, disi aymg as much rcjjanl for the truth a^ any of her sex would be Hkcly to tnu-it r t'"- same cir nstanc. ,. •'I'm h .nored >,!istrc.v> D\ke,' observed Moore, p' with formal grace and politc- ho V much taste in you selection of .ing t(. m'.s>. works of r^'occ! light ;!! " >-istres aw.^ he h now .vine >u vv I ! ^ sen • u lie h I h, Moore li brought to h he proinj)i confiscated, at the sam( time tucking s breast pocket, " I am that this is \our propcrtv."' hen give it to mc at onco," she di cted. H yet," said Moore. " If I rcmei -.cr corrcctlv, Michief ii a': apology 'w me. Well, he could, i>i 1 I hear laue a statement to you conce ch I thought should be forthcornii ^ven't received it as yet." Bu'H-! " remarked Bessie as spitefu ' hich iS not a little. " Did I hear aright ? " asked Moore some 01. e call me a bully?" " Please, oh. please, give me — that ! " she pleaded, but Moore was not to be turned aside from his march to triumph. " Did I hear some ;>ne say ' Tom, I am truly sorry ^ r my crossness to-night'?" he asked. " I won't say it," she declared, but her voice lacked determination. " I really must be going," said Moore, taking a step towards the door. 2l8 TOM MOORE She gave a squeal of terror. " I will, I will ! " she cried. ;;i hope so. Bessie," he replied, pausing. Tom I am truly sorry for the cross things vou have said to me to-night " ^ ' tin^uish'"r^''V' '"•''^'^' ^^P'"^ ^' ^^°"Id "ot dis- tinguish the adaptation she made in the sentence he had ^ ^j^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^^^ ^^eiice ^ 1 hat won t do. ' he said sternly. •• Try again." ^^ 1 yrant ! she exclaimed ferociously. ^ That IS not a pretty name. Bessie." I it IS appropriate," she said, coldly. " Go on with the apology." The girl made an effori and proceeded with her unwilling penance in the meekest of tones Tom, I am truly sorry for the cross things I have said to you to-night. Now give me it." ^ to be s";!"' in such a hurry. Bessie. There is more '' Oh. dear! will you never be satisfied? " tendfr't tonr ''' ^" "^^"^'" '' " ^ '•" ^is ''That will be a long time." she said determinedlv. I can wait, but to continue -Say 'You are an old nuisance. Tom. but I like to have 3 ou around " you aTou'nd "" h' """'"'"' ^"'"' ^"^ ^ "^^'^ '^ ^ave you around she repeated, parrot-like; then she added sweetly, " I have something else I wish to m Deceived by her sentimental tone. Moore stepped n^r the curtains and like a flash she snapped the skfrt off his arm and vanished behind her shelter The deuce I " exclaimed Moore, in chagrin. •#J^V HONORS ARE EASY 219 The curtains undulated violently as though some vigorous performance were being enacted behind them. The next moment Bessie, fully attired, swept out be- tween them and across the room, her independence and peace of mind restored with the resumption of the purloined garment. " Bessie," said Moore, persuasively, and she halted on the threshold in haughty response. " Bessie, won't you let me speak to you before you go? " " I fear it will only be a waste of time, Mr. Moore," she answered. " Yet I waited when you asked me to from behind the curtains," he said, a glint of laughter in his eves. Bessie winced, but the stare she favored him with was both cold and disdainful. " But, Mr. Moore," she answered, " I had something to say to which you wished to listen." " You mean," he corrected, " you had to say some- thing, Bessie, that I wished to hear. There never was maid more unwilling to do what she was bid than you." " Pray hasten your words, sir. I am listening." " Bessie," he whispered, all the music and poetry to which the love in his heart had given life vibrant in his caressing voice, " Bessie, mavourneen. let 's have done with this bickering. The days of youth fly far too fast for us to waste them in contention. You are the breath of my life, darlin*. Say you '11 take me back to my old place in your heart this night and ne'er send me a-journeying again while we live." She walked slowly to the fireplace and resting her arm on the mantel above stood looking into the blaze. Moore, encouraged by her return, drew near her. 2iO TOM MOORE .'I " You know I love you deeply and truly as any woman lias ever been IovpH " uL 7 ^ so clo.P fln.f u- ' ^^ "lurmured, standing so close that his warm, ea:rer breath gently stirred an. set ..mvering the tiny ringlets cluftered ^n her .,11 I , "'»."'. iJisiie clarliii , once am for all. r J„vv yo., ; wi,h .-,11 „,>• l,,art and all my souM l"ve you, ..arcs, of girl.,. Vo„ planted „,y 1 eart f ,1 of roses of passion ,l,e first day'that I m t ou an each and every bud has con,e to blossom. Your'dear «es have kx,ked into mine and written your name upon my heart. There is not a curl that s el k™ s from your cheek 1 ■ feet. "Will you, Bessie?" he cried. ^^1^ Who knows? " she answered, backing towards the " What would you say ? " K»:^^'''^^ HONORS ARE EASY <> -^ -> " I 'd say * I love you, Tom ; will you be my husband?'" "You would?" " That is, if I should happen to want you, which is n't at all likely." Then, with a rippling^ laugh, Bessie turned her back on him, and strolled off, satisfied that she had avenged her wrongs of the evening. And had she not ? Uat@'««MHK?c .«Br5R55F» "S" 'wSTBLSSt*,??- t M h Chapter Eighteen TOM MOORE MOVES IN DISTINGUISHED COMPANY SIR tRCIV ^L LOVELACE gave a reception m honor of the first appearance oj Mistress of Mr " r" ^^"^"^ - L.v.lia Languisl, in a revival ot .Air. blierulans successful comcdv "The Rivals" st'lr *' '"™" °' '"' ""'^See-s sucee 1 a. son,e lays previous to the - l-^"'S in the more revi- enlial prattle of the great la.lios who owed their preL ence ,n the upper circle of societv to birth ins ea 1 of .0™:; wi* ;' T- "■"""'•^"' """ ™- °" ^^"^y b age wi* h "■ """■""' '° ''°™'- 'h- »-™'- Wage w,th her presence, and all the other leaders and ».th invKaltons _ that is. all except one. Thon,as liTd' "tL:' "' ''^*"' °' "'^ ""•"""".v, was over! looked. This was no surprise to the ->»^ ^-^- :- 1' -■'-■-) iui ill; DISTINGUISHED COMPANY '5 had not been deceived by Sir Percival's apparent desire to overlook their past differences. He felt con- fident that the baronet would not rest content until he had made every effort to undermine the pr .ty which he had won as much by his personal c' as by the merit of his poetry, yet, seeing no way in \ ,,ich he could be successfully attacked by his old enemy, he grew more confident as weeks passed with no visible effort to injure his prosperity. Sir Percival, however, was not losing sight of the main object he had in view when he brought about Bessie's journeying to London. While he fully in- tended to put an end to Moore's success eventually, he had busied himself in the last few weeks more par- ticularly with his plans for bringing about the forcing of the girl to do his will. By skilful manipulation of the various influences he w^s able to bring to bear upon persons important in the administration of matters in regard to the smaller dealings in the wav of finance, together with the fatuous confidence reposed in him by Mr. Dyke, this ingenious gentleman succeeded in ohtait'.ing the issuance of a warrant for the body of the old riiymer in default of complete settlement of his outstanding indebtedness. This accomplished without his intended victim being at all the wiser, he held the document in readiness for his purposed attempt at intimidation. Now it was of course imperative, when lie should have kicked from beneath Robin Dyke the props which at present held him above ruin 'as ex- emplified in limitless incarceration in a Fleet Street • lehtors" prison, that Thomas Moore should he in no position to hold forth means of relief. Such boiiirr the case Sir Penival dev.ned himself to making all ready 13 i I 226 TOM MOORE for the disaster which he hoped and believed would be the culm.nat.on of the young Irishman's sS We" in all h'^"' '"' "^'"*°^' ""^^^"^ J^-"-^"' a le^ e thJ P^T^'-^^'^"^ crowned his efforts to a egree that would have seemed unusual even in a better cause, -a state of affairs that led to much ticH " T'?r ^^ ^° '^^^ ^^'^^'^ --- o' the "^c plotted e'viThu^ir/ras^h;^^^^^^^ ""^^^"^ ^^ ^'^^ dMl^f'.^'''"""^""* '■"^^'"^"^' ^^'•- Sheridan with a " Mr. Sheridan," she remarked, severely " I an, „„, sence from Drury Lane to-night. Evervbodv u4,« • anyocly was present except'the aut^Jr "^'pi:' iH Surely you should take enough interest in your o'^ play to witness its revival" evl"rr'liamint''' ^'"'''"' "' "^" P^°""- "^^ ^o let even 1 arl ament prevent my attendance at the rheatre when a play by you .hall be presented, madam." a pbyT" '"'"' "'■' *'^^ ^ ^"^ -^ «^-P-ble of writing inl^^ir"/*""^'^ '^^' ^ ^^^"^^ declar, ny woman ncapable of anything in the world, pos. I.le or Tm I -ble. rephed the gentleman thus addressed 1 am not sure that you intend that remark as a compliment, sir." '^"drK a* a y^vssgr ''-:^^!:^^2'P«i...y:. '^s i?7f^n^iK::7;.lfi DISTINGUISHED COMPANY 227 "A woman should accept as complimentary al! that o olit ""' ^^'°'"*^'y *'^'^^'" '^ •"te"e face of misfortune and wrinkles. Quite improbable, but delightfully sen- timental and imaginative." Jr ^QK "°i ^""T ^^''^ '" P'"'"""'' Brummell," quoted Mr. Sheridan, knowingly, " that your days may be longer in the land." ^ ^ "A combination of scriptural savings worthy of their most^ unrespected quoter," laughed Mrs. Fitz- wrinkTes? " "' ''"' " ^""'^'^ P^^^^^" <=°"'^ ^-- ;; In whose face? His own or some one else's? " ^^ Some one else's face, of course, Mr. Sheridan." I spoke of the proper kind of love, dear madame, not the improper," observed Brummell, languidly 228 TOM MOORE « I t i 1 f "And a prince's love?" " For his princess impossible, for any other woman improper," said Sheridan, looking away lest his shot strike home. "And why has Sir Pcrcival cut Mr. Moore?" de- manded Mrs. FitzHcrbcrt, giving Sheridan a reprov- ing tap with her fan. " They arc old rivals," replied the Beau. " Would Sir Pcrcival marry her, do you think ? " " Xo one can answer that question, Mrs. Fitz, but Lovelace himself. Shall I tell him you would like to know ? " " Not for the world, Mr. Sheridan," she exclaimed. " It is not my affair." " If Percy is contemplating matrimony it will sur- prise many who know him well," returned Brummell. seating himself near b\ . " But then he always was an eccentric dog." " They would never agree." " Well," said Mr. Sheridan, " it is well known that if the bride and the groom did not have their little differences they would not care to marry." " Ahem ! Have you read Mr. Rogers's new poem? " asked the lady, skilfully changing the subject. "'The Pleasures of Memory'? Egad, I obtain much more pleasure by forgetting," said Sheridan, taking snuff. " So the tradesmen say, Sherry." " Well, George, I 've not heard of your discounting your bills lately," retorted the elder man. Just then Sir Pcrcival approached them. " As usual, the rallying place for wit and fashion i:^ at Mrs, FitzHcrbcrt's side," said th^ baronet, graciously. DISTINGUISHED COMPANY 229 " So you thuuglit you would add beauty to the list by coming yourself?" " Nay, Slierry, I have heard it said there was never a prettier gentleman than Richard Brinsley," said the baronet. ^ "Who said that? Your grandmother?" retorted Sheridan. " How is the old lady ? " "So >uu have neglected Mr. Moore?" whispered Mrs. FitzHerbert, drawing her host to her side. " Oh. FVrc\-, Percy, what a jealous creature vou are ! " " Egad, you wrong me, Mrs. FitzHerbert ; the one bemg I have ever really envied as a lover is his Highness." "Mr. Dyke and Mistress Dyke." announced the footman. Sir Percival went to welcome his guests, followed by Shtridan and the others. Bessie never looked pret- tu r. The proud consciousness of her success gave her a new confidence, and she laughed and quizzed it with the witty throng assembled to celebrate her triumph as brightly and m<>rrily as though she had never moved in any but the upper circle of society. Mrs. FitzHer- bert mischievously told her of Sir Percival's intentional neglect of Moore in the hearing of the gentleman, and then, bubbling over with glee at the embarrassing position in whicli she had placed him, sought safety m flight on the arm of Farrell, who, quite dazzled by the beauty's condesct nsion, was already vague'y medi- tating on his chances as a rival of the Regent. " Are you angry, Mistress Bessie? " asked Sir Per- cival, inwardly registering a vow to be even with the Prmce's favorite for the trick she had played him. ■Angry?" she repeated. " WTiat a question, sir! 2JO 1 O M MOORE il I I i ri Surely in your own house you have the privilege of editing your visiting list?" boMIv°" """'' *'"°'^ ^^^ ^ ^^^^ "^"""^ ^^'''" ^"^ '""'^ " Why, Sir Percival?" *• Because I am jealous of the amorous looks he bt^ -nvs „pon you. even if you do not return them. I w..hed to have you to myself to-night, so I I,ave placed .t beyond Moore's power to interfere in his usual im pudent manner." " You need not explain," Bessie said coldly, as a servant approached. ^ *• The Princes carriage blocks the way." he an- nounced to his master. "Good ! •• exclaimed Sir Percival. " His Highness' ardmess worried me. I was afraid he was not conimg. ""•■ " His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales" an- nounci the footman a moment later, "and Mr Thomas Moore!" •n that ot the poet, whose eyes, twinkling with merri- ment, showed plainly his enjoyment of Sir Perc^vl 's surpr.se and disappointment. wi7me." ^ '"^^ '^" ^^'''' °^ ^""^'"^ Tom Moore " Your Highness does not doubt that I am glad to^ welcome any friend of yours," glibly replied'sir Then as the Prince, seeing Sheridan, ever a favorite of h.s. turned away, the baronet said to Moore, a sneer disfigunng h,s handsome face- '• Believe me, Mr. Moore, my house is honored." ^^mA DISTINGUISHED COMFAN 231 " I believe you. Sir Percival," responded ue poet, promptly, " so that need not worry you." *' Nothinp ever worries nic. sir." "Not even conscience, Sir Percival'" " No, Mr. Moore," replied the baronet, as Wales and Sheridan drew nearer. " Ah, ' oe. conscifMU'e. liki a powdered wig, is no longer in style." "Tut, tut. Tom," said Sheridan reprovingly. 'I still cling to the old fashion." M(jore eyed the speaker's wig w ith tolerant eye. " I'^aith, Sherry," said he, " brains such as yours are an excuse for anything." " Perhaps," said Sheridan. " But it is a po can doubt the truth of the state- ment ? " "It takes a ii . .r : je cynical," said Sh— 'an, having recourse ■ ;m>- s;,ufF-bo.\. " Then," said .>joc.v . what a doubter r.i.r f:iv..test dramatist must be." " I have been describeil as a doubtful character more than once." returned the old gentleman. "Your Highness, when you arrived we were discussing matrimony." " An amatory eccentricity," drawled Krummell, who had joined the little group now surrounding the Prince. " The connecting link between bankruptcy and the Bank of England," declared Sir Percival. " The straight-jacket in which, are confined coupler 232 TOM MOORE .;,l If [1 ^ i siM,"""Lr '■■' -'"^^P'!^'." ■'aid irr. Sheridan, with a -ne.oXu^rrx::iSe-^- What would you siu'srest Sherrv^" i . , Princ. ••Wo„,dv„„abo^h;na;S„,,."'^'' "' >J-tirh.^"^ "■'"'-- -Divorce a. say three .hlLca,,;:""'""'' '° '>^ " ^*-- -''^<" Wales, ten'eirtvZe";?" :r, r;r. "" ""'"^'"'' '- *= Tut, tut. Tommy," said Sheridan reorovirarw -ZTncramI tt?? "^ "" ""^^ ^' ^°- -n And you old boys," sai.l he, "make ano her mis- itrha^eTz^'-rar,-^"--"---" DISTINGUISHED COMPANY 233 " Don't mention it," retorted Moore politely. " It is a queer thing at best. Before a wedding a woman has a husband to look forward to." " And when married ? " " Faith, Sherry, a husband to look after." " Imagine it, Brummell." " Fortunately, your Highness, there are some limits to my imagination," replied the Beau. "Sentimentally but not sartorially speaking," ob- served Sheridan, scrutinizing the exquisite's lace cravat through his eye-glas.-,. " T is well to remember that imagination is the thief of truth." " You have dismembered marriage," said Wales, smiling, " what of love ? " "Surely the subjects have nothing in common?" cried Moore. " The two together would be most uncommon," re- marked Sheridan. " Love is the incidental music in the melodrama of life." "The sugar coating put upon the pill of sensuality by the sentimental apothecary," retorted Moore. " Love is the devil, matrimony is hcl — hem! — heaven." "How do you know, Moore?" demanded the Prince. " You have never been married." " I have never been to Hades, your Highness, but I know it is hot just the same." The verbal duel of the quartette ended in a shout of laughter and the Prince, on the arm of Brummell, strolled away in search of Mrs. FitzHerbert, while Sir Percival and Sheridan sought the card-room, leav- mg Moore to his own devices, a proceeding that suited him exactly, as he had already caught a distant view of Bessie, and was eager to be ud in pursuit. m %\ 234 TOM MOORE iM't That young lady, guessing^ as much, took refuge in a flight as skilful as it was apparently unstudied, and Moore, hampered Ly the politeness he was compelled to bestow upon his friends and admirers as he en- countered them on his pursuing stroll, found himself at the end of half an hour no nearer the object of his quest tnan at the beginning of the evening. Just then here came a request from the Regent that he should favor the assemblage with one of his own songs, so mwardly chafing at the delay, he was compel^ to warble rapturously, not once but thrice, for his good- nan, ro was at par with his fellow guests' appreciation. Havmg sung '• Believe Me, if All Those Endearing Young Charms he followed it with the mournful d.tty. She .s Far from the Land," and finished with The Last Rose of Summer " by royal command, the c ose o h,s efforts being received with a perfect storm of anplause that was as sincere as it was flattering- but here the Prince interfered, and. vowing he wouhj not a low his gifted friend to strain his Lai cor^. pubhrly thanked Moore for the pleasure he had giv n the assemblage. ** Meanwhile. Sir Percival had not been idle. Finding a deserted nook the baronet, about ati hour later sen^ a servant m quest of Farrell. and contentedlv awaited the young Inshman's coming, absorbed in" pleasant nnmnanon on the probable happenings of th by no means distant future. ^ •'Oh Terence." said he, rousing from his reverie as the former entered. " is the poem printed ^ " poclfet ""'" ' """" '^ '''' ^•^^'""'^^ f^°- his •' Here it is in the evening's issue." said he. " Evi- ^1 1 i J K IttAI MOUUK .MiKTS i*|.>slK J>VKi: AC Slli I*KU» I\ Al/s. ■ggggK^^psg j«aer . .;-?.>--5SJ**S<»--?c I i J J DISTINGUISHED COMPANY ^35 dently his Highness lias not yet stumbled on it, though every one else seems to have done so," " Droll that the Prince should come here in the author's company," said Sir Percival, scanning the sheet, in the corner of which was the poem he had purloined from Moore's garret. ^ '■ A propitious happening, sir," returned Farrell. " I have not begun the circulation of the author's name. Is it the proper time, think you?" '■ N'ot yet, my dear Terence. Half an hour from now will be quite soon enough. Egad, these verses sting, or I 'm no judge of satire. When the Prince does finally set eyes upon them there will be an out- bur-it. A flood of anger will result on which the writer of this masterpiece will be borne away to oblivion." " Moore is high in favor now." "The higher the elevation the greater the fall, Terence." Farrell nodded. " Our visit to his garret was a fortunate one. But for what we found there I fear Tom's position in royal favor would be too firm for even you, Sir Percival, to successfully assail. May I ask the programme you' have planned in regard to Bessie ? " " It differs very little from the scheme we discussed a fortnight ago. Already the bailiflfs are on post both at the front and rear, waiting patiently to seize the person of Mr. Dyke unless otherwise directed by my humble self, which will only result from the girl's com- pliance or the payment of the thousand her father owes me. I anticipate with their aid finding little difficulty m persuading Mistress Bess.it to go through the mar- tfi 236 TO M M 00 RE A -i m TtalThe^^^^^ °"^^ ^'^'■^ - accomplished I I take her on the Contment for a glimpse of Europe " You w. marry her?" said Farrell in surprise Not really, you fool," laughed his patron. " Fo"re- seemg such a compromise as marriage. I have provided a clergyman of my own manufacture. Jack laZ Iv ;' That devil's bird." muttered Farrell Aye. no angel child is Jack, but a gentler roeue .. And where is this gallant rascaP " at hand 'T '^' ^T' ^^'^'^^'^^^'^a' caparisons ready a little tav T ""^ ^ ""' '""'"^ ''"'"^ ^'^ --- i;:^ii:;:-:my:iir"'^^^^ "You think she will suspect nothing?" I rely on Jack's appearance to silence anv va^ue Jbubts that may haunt her gentle bosom Jack Sn !rhirc"^^"^- ^''' ^^' -^ '^ ^-' if he be Z ;; You are a remarkable man. Sir Percival " -At all events industrious." returned th« k anj, balancing hi-n«lf uncertainly as he s^^J , alo,,d a, ., ;„,.„,,, „, ,, in;.;:care:;rai,r"'' Ihe lutle gentlemaa was Mr R. ) -,~ i r- • , •»Ji. i^.^haul L.rinsley DISTINGUISHED COMPANY 237 Sheridan; the reason for his sudden impatience with drunkenness being that he had heard every word of the conversation between Sir Percival and his creature, and now found his wine-drenched intellect unequal to planning the proper course for him to follow to clieck- mate the benevolent intentions of his host. I 4 ■,■•' f ^f ^ 1; Chapter Nineteen MR. SHERIDAN, MR. BRUMMELL, AND MR. MOORE HOLD COUNCIL OF IV A R HIS Royal Highness did not at first succeed in locatinjT the lady v\ho enjoyed so much of his favor and admiration at this limc. Mrs. FitzHerbert took possession of iMoore when a servant informed Farrell of Sir Percival's wish to see him, and. laughing mischievously, kept on the move from one room to another, resolved that Wales should make at least a fairly determined effort before he obtained the pleasure of her company. It to be con- cluded that the conversation of every one < i^ is at so completely a lf)w ebb of mentality," remarked the Beau, scntc.itiously. " tJh, Tommy,'Tommy. why will you tic your cravat in that horrible, horrible fashion ? " " It 's like this, r>rumnicll. I 'm tired of following your styles, so at present seek to set one of mv own." *' Then T '11 quell your insubordination without further delay." returned the Ueau, laying skilful hands on Moore's tic. " A touch to the left, a twist to the right, a pucker here, and a graceful fall of lace thus, Thomas, and you are a credit to Ireland." " Thanky," said Moore. " If I look half as fine as you do, George. I '11 need some one to see me home. The ladies will never allow me to escape unkissed." "A kiss in time saves nine," said Mr. Sheridan, thickly, having approached unnoticed. " I can"t prove it, but it -ounds curst clever, at least after the second bottle." . ^'^'^/^>' ^^^ way. Mrs. Fitz," said Brummell, lan- guidly, "his Highness is searching for you, or I mis- read his behavior." " If that is the caM-," replied Mrs. FitzHerbcrt. smil- ing into existence the prettiest dimple in the world. " there is only one thing for me to do." "To hide, Mrs. FitzHerbert," suggested Moore, who understood all women save one : at least it was to tliis eflPect that he flattered himself. " Really, Mr. Moore, you should have been bcrn a woman." "Not so," said the poet, "for th.-n, !i ;e other women, -•;. f IS,- HOLD COUNCIL OF WAR i^i I should be blind to the pood fortune of his Highness in enjoying your ladyship's favor." " But," said Brummell, pompously, " if you had been a woman. Tom. / might have loved you." " Egad. fJcorge, for the first time in my life I regret my sex." " I 've regretted m' sex all m* life." observed Sheri- of his former thickness of tongue perceptible. *' Do, Sherry? I '11 have to raise the money." "Have you it ?" demanded the wit, regarding Moore in amazement. " Xot I, Sherry. It 's taken all I 've earned so far to pay my debts." " Debts ? " snorted Sheridan, contemptuously. " Let this be a lesson to you, Tom. Never pav anything. I never do." "You. Sherry? Have you any money?" " None, except what I have in my pockets," replied Sheridan, hopelessly. At this moment Mr. Brummell, deserted by Mrs. FitzHerbert, and wearv of the sense- less gabble so liberally dispensed by nine of every ten females gracing social functions of magnitude, wan- dered back into the conservatory in search of quiet. Spying two of his closest cronies, he made haste to join them. HOLD COUNCIL OF WAR 247 "Here is the Beau," said Moore. "Ah, George, you have come just in time for the collection." " Indeed ? " said Brummell, curiously. " Have I missed the sermon?" " Yes, but you are in time for the blessing, if you have any money to lend a poor devil of an Irishman." " Money," sighed the Beau, " is too vulgar for me to long endure its possession, Tom." "I am not joking, Brummell," declared Moore, seriously. " I need money, sir. Every penny you can let me have. How much do you think you can raise for me within the hour ? " Brummell, assured by Moore's manner that he was not jesting, began to sum up his resources. " I think," said he, hopefully, '• that I can borrow fifty pounds from my landlady, and I have a guinea or two in my clothes." " Fifty pounds," said Moore. " And you, Sherry? " The gentleman addressed had ransacked his pockets and was rapidly counting out a handful of small coins. " I have five shillings and sixpence," he announced. Moore groaned. " And I think," continued the old gentleman, " that I can borrow five pounds from my valet if the rascal is not in a state of beastly sobriety." " And I 've not twenty pounds to my name," said Moore, losing hope for the moment. " Your name should carry more weight than twenty pounds." returned Sheridan. " Perhaps I can borrow some from a stranger." " But a stranger would not know you. Sherry," objected Brummell. "But if he knew him he v. juldn't lend him a penny," 248 O M MOORE sa:d Moore. ' Th.nk of it. gentlemen. Wl,at would Brintr^r • '' '""'• ^^^" ^^"--^''' --hard Bnnsley Shendan. and Tom Moore together cannot ra.se one hundred pounds in a time of desperate need." disgult ^''''"■''^' ''-■•" ''^'^'^ ^'■"'"'"^» '" "Oh, d-n posterity!" cried Sheridan. "What nas posterity ever (ione for >s ? " " r.ive it time, Sherry. it time " ;; That is one thing I ; • ..ever short of. Tommy." tro.,hW '• Tu "::P'-«P"^^>-. ^'^ what is the trouble ? inquired the Beau. " A friend of mine is in danger, Brummell. T must raise one thousand pounds before dawn - r-Z'^ \housand poiinds!" exclaimed Brummell, hor- rified. Good Lord ! ' for^lr' f' ''IV^''" '^"^ '''''''''' ^« his scent-bottle for the stimulation necessary to revive him from the -^lock inflicted by Moore's words, the poet gripped Shendan by the arm in sudden hope II '" f^^'u ^? ^^" ^'"'"'^ ^^S^""' himself. Sherry " Shendan shook his head in dissent n.aie'frS:.'''^''' """"'^^ '^ '^ ^'^ ^^'-''^ -*'- interte?'^ ""'^'"^ "'" "^^^ ^"^^^ he would " Tom," said Brummell solemnly, " if there is a woman in the case do not waste your time and exhlus^ the patience of Wales. His Highness is a gr^ate r..K-e han Percy Lovelace ever dreamed of ^in^g ' Moore' '" "'' "' ' "°"^" '^ '<^'''^'" P--sted "Remember, lad." advised Sheridan, "you are a HOLD COUNCIL OF WAR 249 I friend and courtier of only three months' standing. Sir Percival has been Wales's companion since their boyhood." "Then God help us," said Moore in despair. "There is nothing I can do. Stay! I forgot McDermot. He has asked me to write him an eastern romance in verse and oflfered to pay liberally in advance." " That old skinflint will faint at the thought of a thousand pounds." " It is my only chance, Sherry. Where is the old fellow?" " I saw him in the smoking-room a few minutes ago," said Brummell. " No doubt you will find him still there." " I '11 not lose a moment," said Moore. " It is a forlorn hope, but he '11 find the hardest task of his life will be to give me ' No' for an answer." " Rut first, Tom," said Sheridan, wisely, " you must see Mr. Dyke. Perhaps it is not so bad a matter as we think." " You are right, Sherry," replied Moore, his spirits recovering a little at the thought that, after all, the danger might have been exaggerated. But this desperate hope was not destined to be of long life, for Moore found Mr. Dyke in a quiet nook, crushed and despairing. He had just left Sir Percival, who in a few cold words had explained to the hapless old man the terrible trap in which he had been caught. " Take a half hour to think over my proposition," the baronet had said as he left the aged poet. " When that time has passed, acquaint your daughter with my wishes. She will do anything, even marry me, I feel sure, to extricate you from your present predicament." 250 TOM MOORE Moore listened in silence to his friend's story and when he had fi.Jshed said : ^' " You have not told Bessie, sir?" ' " Not yet, Thomas." Perclal" I^'Ufin/'" '"' "^'^ "^ '^^"'^ ^^^ Sir rercival. I U find some way to beat him yet " Leavmg Mr. Dyke where he had found him. Moore went m search of the publisher y «i it Chapter Twenty TOM MOORE MAKES A BAD BARGAIN MR. McDERMOT raised his bald head as Moore approached him in the smoking- room. His keen, hatchet-shaped face was framed on either side by a huge mutton-chop whisker which was Hke nothing else half so much as a furze bush recently sifted over by a snow-storm. This worthy gentleman regarded Moore with a keeimess that seemed to the poet to penetrate and to coldly scrutinize his troubled mind, for Moore was ever a poor hand at dissimulation and bore on his unusually cheery countenance only too plainly the mark of the mental anxiety he was now enduring. " VVeel, Mr. Moore, what can I do for ye, sair?" " Sir," said Moore, trving to hide his eagerness, " I have been thinking over the proposition you made a week ago at the instigation of Lord Lr.nsdowne." " Weel, Mr. Moore? " repeated McDermot, realizing at a single glance that the person addressing him was much in need of something he hoped to obtain as the result of fhis interview, and wisely concluding that this something was money. " You wished me to write a long poem, for which you asserted you were willing to pay in advance, if 252 TOM MOORE by so doing you secured the exclusive right to all my work for the next two years." Jr^\l '"'"'• ^^'' ''^'"°''' ''"^ '^'^' ^'^^ a ^v«k ago. sair. llowcvcr, continue your remarks." "At that time I di' j. trying to speak un- concernedly, and scoring a retched fai-ure as a result. " I too ha' been considering the matter o' whic. ye speak, Mr. Mcore." " You .1 3n you wish to withdraw your offer, sir? " cried Moore, in great alarm. " That, Mr. Moore, is preecisely wl^t I mean," de- clared McDerniot, regarding the poet from beneath his bristling brows. " I ha' decided, sair, that I much exaggerated ye popularity as well as ye talents. This determination, taken togither with the terms ye ha' just suggested, leads me to wash my hands o' the whole matter. Find some ither pooblisher, Mr. Moore. Try Longmans or Mociay." " Mr. McDermot," said Moore, ircing himself to speak calmly, thankful that tl e publisher and he had the smoking-roon: to thcnsdves, " if the propo- sition I have made . unsatisfa-i jry, pray suggest one in your turn. I wih consider any vou mav see fit to offer." McDermot coughed a little and shook his shining old head. That Moore was in desperate need of money was quite evident. The wily old publisher had no intention of allowing the most promising young poet of the day to slip through his fingers, yet he was quite resolved to take advantage of his extremity to drive him to as desperate a Darga' 1 as could be obtained 254 TOM MOORE 1 ^^HK < 4 ' ^^^^Hv ' ] ' ^^B ^ r ^^HH.Ii! ii ™/' ^'^'" "''If'' '""^ ^"" °f busing, life had " No ■ tTHT".:",t,f "™ '° "- natural as.u.eness ^o, said he, I 'H not haeele wi' vr k« a u, .here are iehers who wil, gi' ,e wlat^ /sk." ° "'"'" Ihis last was said in a way that plainly stated hi. :;rr:;r*""°°'''^'-"-'^--- ren'e^'^porthi'sMriill'r- ''-■-'^^■'^'■•' "^ "- ^^ •• No fault o- mine, Mr. Moore, no fault o' mine. wJrd?ifTh"J,'"' ' T"'' ^'^ y"" '" ■•-""-der your arotl'r'^u'al"^. """^ °' "^'^"'"^ '"= ""-^ '" if Je™rhim..'"^'' '^°°''"'«- "' ^•'-<' "^'P ye '• Lord Brooking is on the Continent." Really, Mr. Moore, ye accomplish nothing bv this perseestance." uuimg oy "Have you no heart, Mr. McDcrmot?" ^^.^ Weel, it has no voice in my business affairs. and Wro? T'"/'!,' ""' °"' '^'°"'""^ P°""^^ to-night and three hundred more during the vear you shall own and publish all that I write these two years." No, no, Mr. Moore." " One hundred during the year and the thousand pounds to-right, sir." "lousana McDerLr •'"'^ !^'" r^''^' discussion," snarled " No," cried Moore, " you shall not deny me I '11 give you a bargain you cannot refuse, sir. ' Givi; MAKES A BAD BARGAIN 255 me one thousand pounds which shall be payment in full for the long poem, and I will write when and how you will for the next year at your own price. Yes, I will do this and bless you for it. Oh, sir, it means more than life to me. It is my whole future. It 's love, it 's honor. I beg that you will not use my extremity to drive me to despair. Surely my work is worth as much as it was a week ago when -ou would have gladly accepted such terms as I offer you now?" "That is not the question," replied McDermot, coldly. "Ha' the goodness to get out o' my wav Mr. Moore." Moore seized the publisher by the arm. "An old man's liberty, perhaps his life; the hap- piness and good name of a mere girl depend upon me, sir. I have no other way of raising the money Have pity." " I am sorry," began McDer-not in cold, merciless tones, but he got no farther. " Then dictate your own terms, sir. I must have one thousand pounds. For that sum I will bind mvself to anything you may propose." "Ye mean that, Mr. Moore'" " I do, sir." " For one thousan " " That 's all, sair." " I accept your terms," said Moore in a choking voice. ■wnnvfav^ 256 TOM MOORE ii McDermot sat down at a desk near bv and wmt. out the check for the desired amount. " search of Sir Percival armed with the check madp payable to the order of the baronet bv Mr. McDe n"^ who mnned.ately after drawing, it went hom to bed onurely satisfied with his evening's work. ' with Mrw:;!'"":^ ^'""' '^•'' ^"^-^^^^ '^'^ ^^''-^^-^ w th Mr Walter Scott and that gentleman's most "Unnate Inend, Mr. Samuel Rogers^hese two g n hemg as usual surrounded by a circle of tie ! s gus m the world of literature. Their hos s eing ha us company was evidently desired, ex.us d him^ se to us other guests, and the trio withdrew to a secluded corner of the room. " Sir Percival." .said Moore, in replv to the baronet's ."qtunng glance '" I have been informed bv mv rTend Mr. Dyke, that he is indebted to you for the' nmom^; of one thousand pounds." °""* Sir Percival allowed an expression of gentle sur Pnse to play over his clever face. "It is quite true. Mr. Moore, but reallv I fail to see how the transaction concerns you in the least" Perhaps your comprehension of the affair in its entirety ,s quite as unnecessary as vou seem o r gai^ he interest I feel in the matter," replied Moore Sing the same key as his host. ^ fnlTl '°" P^.'^" "'" '^ ^ ^'^ '^' business in regard to which you wish to see me' " ^ "Certainly, Sir Percival. I desire you to give Mr Dyke a receipt for one thousand pouni » Tut, tut!" said .he baronet, as though slightly MAKES A BAD BARGAIN 257 irritated by the apparent silliness of ^loore's request. " I shall do nothing of the sort unless I am paid in full." " Allow me to pay you, sir. Here are a thousand pounds." Sir Percival took the check from Moore, for once astonished out of his usually indifferent demeanor " The devil ! " said he. "Yes, a publisher," replied Moore, with a wink at Sheridan. " Kindly write me out a receipt. Sir Percival. Sherry, you will witness this transaction ? " " Faith, that I will gladly," said the dramatist, re- gardmg Sir Percival's discomfiture with a humorous twinkle in his keen old eyes. " Damme, this is really a joyous occasion for all concerned." To say that Sir Percival was surprised would be but to feebly express the feelings of that gentleman when he received payment of the debt which he had fondly hoped would be sufficient to gain his ends with Mistress Bessie. However, quickly rallying from his momentary discomposure, he put the check in his pocket. "Believe me, gentlemen, I receive this with pleas- ure," said he, scribbling off a receipt with pen and ink brought by a servant. " Yes, I know how pleased you are," replied Moore, politely. Then taking the acknowledgment of liqui- dation from the baronet, he carefully folded it before depositing it in his wallet. " Some day, Sir Percival, when the time comes for us to make a settlement, I shall ask you for my re- ceipt," he said in a tone that there was no mistaking. '■ When that time comes. Mr. Moore, you will find £W^ 258 TOM MOORE PercL"^" '"' P""P* '' ^'^"^-^f'" replied Sir Moore looked his c.emy caln.ly in the face and read there a courage fully the equal of his own. ^ vouM,K ''■'''''•" '"'^ '^^' "f°'- once I believe the baihffs from further attendance this evening?" sweredThrh^^''''^" " ' ^°"^^ °"^' ^^'•- Moore." an- swered the baronet, smothering his ra^e " C. I Mr. Dyke .>., hanks and add^one JoT.o .h^S ^f .he ™ny Jc,ndn.ses for which I an, already MebteJ Moore and Sheridan lost but Uttle tirae in the ex- change of socal amenities with their discomfited host 'liH^Ulk Chapter Twenty ^ One THE POET FALLS FROM FAVOR ABOUT fifteen minutes elapsed before sor.ic zealous courtier brought the poem in the Examinrr to the attention of the Regent, who thereupon, forgetting the presence of Mrs. FitzHer- hert, who had allowed him to overtake her a few min- utes previous, swore with an ease and variety that would have been a credit to the proverbial Billings- gate seller of fish. As the rage of Wales was not of the repressed order, the voice of royalty raised high in anger drew about him a crowd of courtiers who had been eagerly expecting such an outbreak all the evening. " Sir Percival ! " cried the Regent, catching sight of the baronet in a distant corner where Farrell and he v.ere enjoying the tumult consequent on the cul- mination of their plot. " Have you seen this devilish set of verses ? " " I regret to say I have, your Highness," responded the baronet both shocked and grieved. "It is infamous!" stormed Wales. "Gad's Hfe! it is intolerable. I devote my best eflForts to my coun- try's service only to be foully lampooned in the public Press. Why, curse me — ! " "Your Highness, calm yourself, I beg of you," said Mrs. FitzHerbert, soothingly, but the Prince was not to be so easily restrained. 26o 'i1i I. 4i IN TOM MOORE " Calm, indeed ? " he shniif^ri " r- i -^e....e.ridS:::^dr^^^^ the'feautvTM"/' ^'^ ."'''"'^"^ ^"^^'^'' P-^^^ted o pubH ; '" 7'""^ ''^^^ '-•• ••"«"-- should fail so pubhclv. Remember your greatness, sir." A hon may be stung into anger by a eadflv madame. retorted W^Ipc o-,-^ • *> "J' «* gaan>, " Rr.,«, 11 u • Showing even more furious Brumniell, have you read this infernal poem>" ^ot I. your Highness." replied the Beau who accompamed by Moore, had forsaken the ca d tlwe at the first outburst of ro^al wrath. ' •' Then do so now," commanded the enraged Reeent thrustmg the paper into his hands ^ ' Ji^Tf •■'" -^'^ '''' '^"'■'■•^^^>' ^v^'- the verses ^vhde Wales contmued pacing up and down the now crowded room in unabating fury Oh did you, indeed?" demanded Wales " \nri "o doubt chuckled like the devil over them' " Your Highness!" said the af^erl «.,>' . • ^ believe you are quizzing me now if the truth were known," asserted the Prince ^vZhf n D>ke, who had just entered the room. FALLS FROM FAVOR 261 The Beau obligingly haiule-i over the paper to the old gentleman. As the old rhvmer turned away Moore looked over his sh-uldcr and, scanning with eager eyes the page in quest of the satire which had so enraged the Regent, found it before the elder man's less keen sight had performed a like service for him IVIoore turned sick with horror and clutclied the near- est chair for support. How had the verses found their way into print ? Dyke was ruined if it were proved that he wrote them. Bessie, too, would feel the weight of the Regent's displeasure, and without doubt would be deprived of her position at Drury Lane for her father's additional punishment. He had saved them fr^m one disaster only to see them plunged hopelesslv mto another almost as dire. A groan from the unhappy author announced that he, too, had recognized his poem. The next moment he turned on Moore with a look of despair on his usually placid face. " Tom," he whispered, " you have ruined me My poem IS printed. Oh, Tom, how could you? How could you ? " Surely you do not believe that I gave it to the Press?" said Moore, hoarsely, stung to the heart bv the accusuig look he read in his old friend's eyes ' " Who else could have done it ? I gave you the only copy three months ago." " I remember, sir. Ah, I .an explain it. I left my garret m the afternoon and went for a stroll. When I returned home I found Sir Percival and Farrell Uiere. Since that day I have never thought of it. Iney have done this, Mr. Dyke." " I do not believe you," answered Dvke in a voice 262 TOM MOORE Ml I I so scornful and suspicious that Moore felt as thoueh he had received a blow in the face. Meanwhile Wales's anger had not cooled in the least. "Egad !" he was saying, "if I but knew the author's name ! "There is still a chance. Mr. Dyke," whispered Moore. " Deny all knowledge of the matter. Swear you did not write it if necessary." "Is it impossible to learn the identity of the writer?" asked Brummell seriously. "Impossible?" repeated Wales. "Of course it is impossible. Beau! You do not think he will acknowl- edge this slander as his own, do you ? " '' It does seem unlikely," admitted the exquisite bo unlikely," snorted the Prince, " that I 'd give a thousand pounds to find the rascal out." Farrell, spurred on by a nudge from the elbow of his patron, stepped forward, offer^^"' H'ghness," said he. calmly. " I accept your Wales gazed at the dapper young law student in surpr'«e. " You know the author of this attack upon me sir ? » he asked. " I do," answered Farrell. firmly. Moore, resolved to anticipate and if possible pre- vent the accusation of Dyke which he felt sure was about to follow, stepped hurriedly forward. " One moment, your Highness," said he. " Do you know this gentleman? He is a liar, a blackleg, and a coward, unworthy of your Highness' » uef or con- sideration." FALLS FROM FAVOR 263 "Curse you." began Farrell. white to his lips with sha^me and passion, but Moore did not allow him to inslk'^^t u"" '" ^'t^"^' y'' ^' "^^" '■"^"ted my ^i' T J"'"' ^^^^ ^'Shness, is such a poltroon worthy of belief ? " H^'iroun "Sire!" stammered Farrell. "Damn your private quarrels!" roared Wales urnmg on Moore. " Have I ,»ot my own wrongs to jsent. that you must an.oy m'e with you« •He will lie to you as he has to others, Sire." replied Moore, refusmg .0 be silenced. " That remains to be seen, sirrah " thf'Llrv^- '''PP'^ ^"* °^ '^' *'^^^"& surrounding the angry Prmce, smiling and debonair as usual. Farrell may make, Sire," said he back'^^^T^n • "^T^"' *'' ^""^^' ^^^'"g Moore Dack with an impatient gesture v^l't?"' ?^?^"^"'" ^^'d Farrell, quick to take ad- att^k^uoon ''?°^""'^' "''' ^"*^- -^ ^^- vit attack upon you is one of your friends, a favorite protege, who, owing all to your favor, thus rewards your kmdness by base ingratitude. To your Highness he owes everything ; thus he repays you " ^ His name?" demanded Wales. There was a moment's pause, during which silence thus delayed it might fall with even more crushing time i^Xedt'^M ' ''^ ""'''''' ^'^^^ ^ - ^^hf time, It sufficed for Moore. Convinced that this was the only opportunity which would be afforded him to 264 TOM MOORE H ; avert the disaster he believed to be about to overtake the father of the girl he had loved so truly and pa- tiently. he resolved not to let it pass unutilized. I wrote that poem," he cried. " I am the author whose name your Highness would know " '' You Moore?" gasped the Prince, astonished by what he had heard. Dyke made a move forward, but Moore gripped his arm. '^ " For Bessie's sake." he whispered. " Now do you believe me?" ' " But. Tom — " "Hush, sir." said Moore, thrusting Sir Percival's receipt into Dykes hand. " Read that, and be silent It you love your daughter." Wales, pale with fury, had stood for a moment in utter silence. Then, as he recovered speech, his voice sounded hoarsely, but under perfect control " Sir Percival," he said slowly, " call a carriage for Mr. Moore. Turning to Mrs. FitzHerbert. he offered her his arm, and with h at his side walked deliberately from the room. Sir Percival started toward the door a triumphant smile upon his sneering mouth, but Moore stopped him, and for a moment the two stood face to face. Suddenly the desperate expression left the coun- tenance of the poet, and he smiled as gaylv as though he had just received from the Prince a mark of esteem instead of a disgraceful dismissal. " You heard his Highness' order, my man ? " He seemed to be addressing a servant, if one could judge from the tone in which he spoke. "Then call my carriage, lackey!" FALLS FROM FAVOR 265 " Uckey! " cried Sir Percival. red with rage at the insult, thus forced upon him. " Aye, lackey," repeated Moore, defiant and sneer- ing in his turn. " And here is your pay! " As he spoke, he struck the baronet a stinging slap in the face; then turned and strolled elegantly from the room. Thus it was that Mr. Thomas Moore quitted the world of Fashion, which but a scant three months before he had entered in triumph by grace of the favor of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. ffll I . m ^i;mk^'^»j?sm[RMii3,' Book Four *» If IV try rest with geld were tied. Did gems for dew drops fall. One faded leaf where love had sighed IVere sweetly worth ihem all" i.,-iii"Mirv: v*i I ■ ii' if- ! il i i m h i III .»/*■■ ' w.-i/'". Chapter Twenty-Two TOM MOORE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE THE morning after his enforced but by no means inglorious departure from Sir Perci- val's house, :\Ir. Thomas Moore met his dis- gruntled host near the Serpentine in Hyde Park, but the duel was productive of little satisfaction to either of the parties concerned, as Moore, never having held a pistol in his hands before, missed his antagonist by at least ten feet, receiving in return a bullet that sang a melody new to him as it clipped its way through his hair. Sir Percival's honor was declared vindicated, as his having made a target of himself for Moore's shooting was considered to totally erase all stain put upon his personal character by the vigorous slap he had received from the poet. Moore escaped unhurt, though minus a few locks of hair, — a loss which was not without significance as an indication of Sir Percival's good intentions. The young Irishman was naturally convinced that at this particular game he was no match for his sneering enemy, and considered himself lucky to have escaped with his life, an opinion that was shared by both Sir Percival and Terence Farrell, for the baronet was an expert marksman, and had never doubted that he would end all rivalry between himself and Moore with ^mw¥n7. 1 n 270 TOM MOORE the bullet he aimed at his opponent that morning. However, his opportunity to so rid himself of his rival had come and gone, for he was far too wise to en- deavor to force another quarrel upon Moore, even though the latter had fallen from favor, for more than one harsh criticism was made on the unequal nature of their encounter. Sir Percival's skill was widely known, and a no less deservedly popular individual than Mr. Sherida.. took pains to circulate the truth concerning Moore's shortcomings as a pistol shot. Even his Highness saw fit to remark to the baronet that It was " a demned one-sided aflfair," and that Sir Percival's reputation, had he killed Moore, might have become "even a little more unsavory," comments which led the latter to doubt the permanency of the poets disgrace and exile, but, as he kept these suspicions to himself, by the world in general Tom Moore was con- sidered a ruined man. On returning from their meeting in Hyde Park in the early morning, Moore discreetly abandoned his comfortable apartments, and, in spite of the protests and lamentations of Mrs. Malone, resumed the occu- pa cy of the shabby attic from which the Prince's kmdness had a few months before rescued him. ^^ "No," said Moore, determinedly, to his landlady. 1 m out of favor now and I '11 be saving of m'y pennies till I 'm righted again, if that shall ever be which God knows and I 'm ignorant of, worse luck'' Buster and Lord Castlereagh moved up the several flights between the poet's latest and earliest abiding- places with their master, and seemed actually glad to be back in their old quarters. Their cheerfulness could be easily accounted for. Rat-holes were an un- A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 271 kn >wn commodity on the first floor, though numerous in the attic, and the dignity of behavior Buster thought incumbent on him to assume in honor of rising fortune had proved irksome in the extreme to that worthy youth. Leaving the lad to attend to the details of the re- moval, Moore, after signing his contract with Mc- Dermot, sought the soothing comforts of the country, as was his custom when in trouble, and hied himself to a little fishing village not far distant. • • . . . One afternoon a week later Buster was seated in his favorite attitude, his chair tipped back on its rear legs and his feet, considerably higher than his head, sup- ported by the table, idly contemplating the daily mail which had just been delivered. There were only two letters. Up to the time of the withdrawal of Wales's favor, there were usually a score or so calling for the poet's inspection each day, but the reprimand of the week before had had immedi- ate effect upon Moore's correspond -nee, and while numerous of his more intimate frien ib remained loyal throughout the whole period of his disgrace, there were many others only too prompt to show the utter shallowness of their pretence of regard by imr.ediately abandoning him to what they believed would be per- manent ruin. One of the two letters in Buster's possession had a plump outline that seemed to indicate an inclosure of some bulk. This had the name of the Gazette printed upon it. Buster shook his head disgustedly. The size of the missive seemed ominous. The other letter was neutral in impression-giving. It might hold a check, li ! 272 TOM MOORE or it might announce the return of a manuscript under separate cover, but it certainly did possess possibilities. Buster sighed and, as was his wont, addressed himself to the bulldog, who from the window was solemnly contemplating the passing throng on the street below, " That 's a nice mile for a poet hof the maggietood liof Mr. Moore, haint it, your lordship? Cuss 'em, they thinks we is down to st'y, don't they? Well, \vc '11 show 'em a thing hor two before we gets through." The bulldog regarded his master admiringly over his brawny shoulder, and switched his butt of a tail > [^^or- ously back and forth upon the floor. This manreuvrc sent fluttering a bit of paper that lay near him, and Lord Castlereagh, becoming immediately persuaded that he had a butterfly within easy reach, leaped vigor- ously I'n pursuit. " You 're a fool," remarked Buster, as the animal scuttled across the floor in delighted chase of the paper. Then, waxing philosophical, he continued, " Hit wuz hever thus. We wacks hup suthin' with hour tiles that flies, hand we thinks hit his fime and fortune, hand pursoos hit only to find hout we "as bilked hourselves wid a kimming-reror hor fast fiding plant-has-me-goryer." Absurdly satisfied with himself for having rid his mind of such important and many-jointed words suc- cessfully. Buster began to whistle, playing a merry tune more or less reminiscent of " Sally in Our Alley " on an instrument which his master had presented to him the first week of their acquaintance. This was none other than the whistle that Moore had made the 't.fV A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE V3 very afternoon on which he quarrelled with Bessie at the schoolhouse, — a bit of manufacturing he had often since regretted, for Buster had treasured it care- fully, and was much given to using it for shrill im- provisation, as well as careful rendition of the various airs then popular with the masses, finding it particu- larly adapted to the high notes of " The Last Rose of Summer," then in the heyday of its success. Suddenly he felt his chair tip backward in a manner quite unwarranted by the care with which he was maintaining a delicate balance, and jumped to his feet with a loud yell, finding himself, when he turned, face to face with Mrs. Malone. who had entered unnoticed, the sound of her heaA'y tread being drowned by his melody. ^^ " Fur goodness' sike ! " he exclaimed wrathfullv. "you mustn't do sich rambunctious things, hole woman. You just scared me houter seven years' growth hand I can't hafford to lose no sich hamount." "Niver mind thot," replied the landlady. "It's many the fright you 've given me, you little tinker. Is Mr. Moore back from the country ? "' " See 'ere, his n't the rent pide? " demanded Buster "Av course it 's paid." replied Mrs. Malone, scorn- fully. '• D' ye t'ink I have no foughts at all but about me rint?" " Well," confessed Buster, " once hupon a time, Iiit sorter looked has 'ow you wuz bestowing considerable medication hupon that topic. Hif hit did n't. bli' me that 's hall, just bli' me." "Is Mr. Moore back from the country?" repeated Mrs. Malone. Yes. your Majesty," replied the buy. with a low li 274 TOM MOORE obeisance. " 'Ee his. 'Ee returned this wernr noon from the 'onts hof nachoor." "It is just a week since he wint away," observed Mrs. Malone, reflectively. "'Ow does yer keep count?" asked Buster, sur- prised at the accuracy of her remark. "Faith, thofs an easy mather," she answered, sagely. "Hasn't Misthress Dyke called to see him sivin times? " " She 'as, your 'Ighness, she 'as." '• That 's once for each day. and siven days makes a week, does n't it ? " ^ " Hi never wuz a good 'and hat arithmetic, but Hi as faith in the correctness of your calculation," re- sponded Buster. " Siven times has she called and so disapinted each time that he has n't returned. Did yez give her his adthress ? " "Hi did not, coz has 'ow Hi expected 'im 'ome hevery day. Hit '11 do 'er good. Mrs. Malone. Dis- appointments is disciplinationary, hand disciplination his wot womens need. Hit mikes 'em contented like. Oh, Hi tells yer, Mrs. Malone, my wTe '11 be han 'appy female. She'll 'ave a master, she will." Mrs. Malone gave the boy a vigorous push that sent him staggering, and as Lord Castlereagh neglected to get out of the way, boy and dog suddenly assumed recumbent and by no means graceful attitudes upon the floor. "Arrah, get out o' thot." she remarked, complac- ently viewing the disaster she had wrought. "My heye!" said Buster, in an astonished tone wot his this hany 'ow ? His hit according to London .'vj^.:!*^ A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 275 prize ring rules, hor just knock down hand drag habout till death do hus part ? " " Give me no more airs, you little puckorn. The size of yez, talking about the holy state of matri- mony!" said Mrs. Malone, rebukingly, as Buster climbed up to his feet, slightly jarred by the force with which he had taken his seat. "Did yez tell Mr. Moore that the young lady called?" " No, Hi did not, Mrs. Malone, you hinquisitive ole party." "Why not, me bucko?" " Coz Hi wishes to surprise 'im. that 's w'y," said the boy defiantly. "Hand hif you lays 'and ho" me agin. Hi '11 'ave Lord Castlereagh bite you good .land 'arty where it '11 do you the most good hand be the least missed." " Niver mind thot." " Hi won't hif you won't, Hi 'm sure, Mrs. Malone, and as for the young lidy, she has n't been 'ere to-day," said Buster. " Oh, never fear," returned Mrs. Malone. " She '11 come, and it 's glad I am that he 's back agin." " W'y ? Did you miss 'im ? " " Niver mind. It 's the young leddy I 'm tinking of. Faith, suppose she got discouraged and stopped a-coming ? " " That 'ud show she was n't worth 'aving," replied Buster wisely. "Now see 'ere, Mrs. Malone. w'en she comes Hi wants you to let 'er hup widout hany announcement. Does you 'ear ? " " Oh, I hears, but for phwat should I do that, Mr Buster?" " You just leave it to mc, your 'Ighncss. Hi knows how these haffairs should be conducted." i'.i''-:.".., 276 TOM MOORE ■■■' I It I "Oh, yez do, do yez?" said Mrs. Malone in a de- ns.vc tone, as she ambled toward the door. " It 's in an orphan asylum yez ought to be " "Not hat all," retorted Buster. ' "Hi 'as no time to waste hon 'avin^r horphings." The worthy landlady met Moore in the hall as she quitted Ins apartments, and overwhelmed him with the heartmess of her welcome, but. mindful of Buster's nistruct.ons said never a word concerning the visits of Mistress Dyke. Moore, having made as speedy an escape as was possible without wounding the old woman s feelings entered the attic, being received with much doggish dehght by Lord Castlereagh, who seemed to ignore the fact that he had ceased to be a puppy several years before. about to deliver the post to his master ' " Good evening. Moutgcncry," replied Moore, se- verely, drawn- off his gloves. "Montgomery?" echoed the bov, thoroughly dis- ^" W-,.".^.'°"' ^^" '"^ ^'^^*' ^•^' Please don't'' well, that s ^ our name, isn't it?" "Ho, Hi knows hit, alas!" said Buster, in an in- jured tone. " Hi knows hit only too well. Wen Hi wuz too little to defend myself w'en put hupon, my ?T lT"''"u''"P ""^ "'^"^^^"^ '"^ Montgomery Julien Plethdbert, hand 'itches hit hon to the family nime hof " Montgomery Julien Ethelbert — " " Spinks. Yes sir, that 's hit. Wuz n't :hat a crime ? ihat s wot stunted my growth, most likely." It seems plausible," observed Moore, in secret vastly amused. ^^ i»Miii^^£^mjiY^!.*':kfk i^'^^^mr'>i>'^^'m:s!^^m^m^smikms^^m^ms!^9sf, A PROPOSAL OF MARRI AGE 277 " Yes, hit do," continued the boy, sadly. " Say sir won't you alhts call me Buster?" ' ' " No, sir," responded Moore, sternly. " You were fighting again this afternoon. As punishment for your pugilistic propensities I refuse to call you Buster again to-day." " Ho, law ! " exclaimed Buster. " but this 'ere pun- ishment is horful. We wuz honlv aving a gime sir just playm' like." " Indeed? I happened to see you myself this time. I wont have you half killing the neighbors' children that way." " You saw me? Oh, Hi say, was n't that a helegant gesture w'en I soaked 'im hon the nob? Did n't Hi do 'im hup brown, eh? Hand that jolt hin the bread- basket wid my left fisty. Ho, that cert'nly wuz a pet » " "Montgomery Julien," began the poet, severely The lad wilted. " Ho, don't, sir, don't. Hit makes me that fretful " he said pleadingly. " Hi '11 reform, reallv Hi will'" "Do so, then," said Moore. "And remember, if I ^ver hear of your fighting again. I '11 never call you anything but Montgomery." ^ " Yessir," replied Buster, with a low bow. " Hi ears, hand to 'ear his to hobey. Hi retires from the prize ring to-day, hard my champeenship Hi resigns to the red- eaded butcher boy hacross the w'y 'Ere 's the post, sir." Moore took the two letters from the lad and sat down beside the table to examine them. ^ "From publishers, h 'are n't they?" said Buster interestedly. Moore nodded. fSSS^MI^5^:»lJ*gS^~ = i^S-. " 278 TOM MOORE i ' >; s f ? r I II I '* That they are, lad." he answered, opening the first as he spoke. " Ah, here is an inclosure." "Hinside?" asked Huster, eagerly. "Where else?" demanded the poet. "Did you think it would be wrapped around the outside? From the Gazette. One pound. Good. A pound is better than ten shillings any day." " Ha munth hagow hit ud 'ave been ten pun," said Buster, shaking his round head. " But it 's nine well lost," answered Moore, adding to himself, " aye, well lost, since it is for Bessie's sake." He found a note inside and read it aloud. " Mr. Thomas Moork — " Dear Sir, — Inclosed find one pound in payment fci your poem, ' Inconstancy,' wliich, owing to your present unpopularity, we feel compelled to print under the name Thomas Little." " Hi nkes their imperence," cried Buster in disgust. "'Little,' indeed!" " That accounts fr he size of the check, no doubt," observed the poet. Two days ago it was ' Tom Brown ; ' next week it will be ' Tom Green ' or ' Tom Fool.' However, it does n't matter if Tom Moore gets the money." " Hi '11 let 'em use my nime," suggested the lad in noble self-sacrifice. " My folks his all dead, so the publis'ty won't kill 'em. Montgomery Julien Hethel- bert would look grite hin print." " I quite agree with you," said Moore, laughing. " Ah, Buster, me boy, it 's sweet to be back in the old place. I 'd not give it, bare and ugly as it is, ^or one A the fine places I 've wined and dined in since leaving it, if Bessie were only here to brighten it for me." M n f^m^i^^m^^'^mr-.-WMsmi^^a ■A- A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 279 -^ler looked around him comprehensively. " Hit docs need cleaning hup a bit," he said apolo- getically. " Hi '11 see wot Hi can do to-morrer." " And you say there has been no lette. for me fr^m her?" continued Moore. " Not one letter, sir," replied Buster. "And you haven't seen her, Ruster?" The boy gave a yell of pain, and slapped his hand to his face, at the same time executing a double shuffle with his feet. "What ails you, lad?"' asked the poet in astonish- ment. " My toot" haches me," explained Buster, who had mvented this complaint by way of diverting his mas- ter's inquiriei. " Fall in love. Buster," advised Moore, " and the pam in your h /t will make you forget the pain in your tooth." " Hit 's better now, sir," announced the boy, jubilant that he had kept his master from all knowledge of Mistress Dyke without real denial of her visits. " Now for the other letter," said Moore. This was the bulky package. Bi ter's suspicions that It mclosed a disappointment proved not un- founded, for there was a manuscript poem folded within. " Humph," grunted Moore, scornfully. " What bad taste they display. •••Mr. Thomas Moore — Df.ar Sir ,— In view of your present unpopularity — » Oh, I hate that d— n word, Buster." i8o TOM MOORE II . ■■n I " Hit is a bit narsty," assented the boy. " — we feel obliged to return your poem entitled 'To Bessie." "Confound them!" Unfolding the poem, Moore ran his eye over its neatly written lines. At this moment the door behind him opened softly, and Bessie crept in as quietly as any mouse. Buster saw her, and, leaning over the table, asked his master to read him the rejected verses. " Certainly, Buster, since you wish it," said Moore, good-naturedly. " It will help on your literary education." •■ That hit will, sir," said Buster, stepping where he could motion Bessie to remain silent without being detected by his master. " * To Bessie,' " announced Moore, beginning to read, little thinking that the gi^l was 30 near. " Tho' brimmed with blessings, pure and rare. Life's cup before me lay, Unless thy love were mingled thera I 'd spurn the draught away. " Without thy smile the monarch's lo« To me were dark and lone. While, with it, even the humblest cot Were brighter than his throne. " Those worldi for which the conqueror sighs For me would have no charms. My only world thy gentle eyes, M) throne thy circling arms." Suddenly a pair of soft round arms were around his neck, and the poem he had just read with such love m^msm 'To its A PROPOSAL O F MARRIAGE 281 and tenderness was plucked from his grasp without warning. Moore sprang to his feet with a low cry of surprise. " Bessie," he said, incredulously. " You ? " " Don't you know me? " she asked with a little pout, as Buster, followed by the bulldog, stole discreetly from the room. " Have you forgotten how I look so soon ? " '' Forgotten ? " he echoed. " Is it likely, Bessie.' " " You seem surprised to sec me." " I can't deny that," he answered in wonder. " For- give me if I ask to what I am indebted for this visit? " " Oh," said Bessie, indiflFerently, " I came to see if you have written any more poems about the Prince. Tom, how could you do it? He was so fond of you." "That may be," replied Moore, assuming a dig- nified air, •' but I can't let friendship interfere with my politics." " Then it was your duty, Tom ? " '' It was my duty." he answered, gloomily. " I think you were unpardonable," said the girl. " I see," replied Moore. " you came to reproach me, Bessie." " What a deceitful fellow you are," she went on, shaking her pretty head in a sad way. "I am," admitted the poet. " I am. Go on, Bessie, dont spare me." She advanced a step or two as he, at a loss to under- stand why she was thus baiting him, turned bitterly away. ' " I can't spare you," she said sternly. 282 TOM MOORE mil .1 n' " So it seems," he murmured, not looking at her, lest the sight of her girlish beauty make the pain in his heart too great to be endured. " I^ can't spare you," she repeated. " I can't spare you," but this time her tone was one of loving tender- ness and he turned to look at her in surprise. She was standing with outstretched arms, her face eager and adoring, the old light shining soft and clear in her eyes. " Without you, Tom, there is no happiness for me. Tom dear, Tom darling, can't you see I 've come here because I love you ? " "What?" he exclaimed, and then, mindful of past disappointments, he raised his hand imploringly. " You are sure you are not joking this time? " ^^ "Joking?" she repeated, advancing toward him. " Let this assure you." As she spoke she kissed him full on the mouth, not once hut thrice. "Now are you convinced I am in earnest?" she asked shyly. " Partly," he replied, still unable to fully realize that she had surrendered at last. "Convince me some more, Bessie." Then as she kissed him again, he folded her in his arms and held her to his heart so tightly that she released herself with a little gasp. " Please remember, sir, that I have to breathe," she remonstrated. " I forgot everything, except that I had you in my arms," he answered. " Ah, Bessie darlin', my heart was breaking for you. I love you so much, dearest." He embraced her again, and pressed her soft cool ^^^^^^^r'-'^n^^ A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 283 cheek to his, and it must be admitted she appeared to enjoy this proceeding as much as he did. "Su' ' he vvhiip^red, "if heaven is half as sweet as this et ine d;c to rnorrow." " Yor; tcok the bi. me to save my father. Oh, Tom, I '11 never loi^I,^ you." " Keep on not forgiving me," he suggested, for she had given him another kiss. " I made him tell me," said she, complying with his request before sitting down by the table, *' but the next day you had gone." " I know," said Moore, " I went out into the country. It helped me, as it always does. It comforted me, but not as you have done." " And while you were gone I came here every day to see if you had returned." " What is that? " he demanded. " You came here, dearest ? " Bessie nodded gleefully. " I did not miss a day, not even Sunday," she said. " That little devil of a Buster ! " cried Moore, glar- ing around the attic in quest of him. "The imp! Wait till I lay my hands upon him ! " " He did n't tell you, Tom ? " " Not a word. If I had known, it is no sight of me the trees and the fields would have had." Bessie rose from her chair, and stepping back a little distance, looked archly at her lover. j'Have you forgotten what you said?" she asked. "Since I don't remember, I think I must have," said Moore puzzled. " Then I '11 tell you, sir." ^^^^i^^m^^wn 284 TOM MOORE " That 's good of you, Bessie," said he. " You told me I would have to ask you to marry me," she answered, a little timidly. "Tom d ar, I love you ; will you be my husband ? " " This is so sudden," said Moore, and he sat down in the chair she had vacated. " What is your answer, Tom ? " she asked, almost anxiously. ■' I '11 have to be wooed further before I give it," he declared, keenly relishing the situation. " I '11 do it," she murmured. " I '11 do it. Tom, I love you bettei than all the world. V/ith all my heart and soul I love you." She knelt beside him and drew his head down on her shoulder. " I love you," she whispered again, and held him close. "But," he :ghed in happy endurance of the un- wonted attentions he was receiving, " Why do you love me so desperately? Is it because of my beauty or my goodness ? " " It 's both, Tom." " Oh, I have it," he exclaimed, " it 's my wealth." " Tom," she said reproachfully and rose to her feet, but before she could reprimand him for his last asser- tion his arm was around her waist. " Bessie dear," he said solemnly, " do you know, for a moment in the joy of your coming I forgot my poverty." " I did not, Tom," she answered. " You are an angel of love and beauty, dear girl ; you have taken a load from my heart and brightened my life this day. I can't tell you how I adore you. how A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 285 grateful I am for what you have said to me, but I can- not marry you." " Tom," she cried reproachfully. " Do you think I do nc' ow of that wretched bargain to which you were driven by that terrible publisher?" "Who told you?" "Mr. Sheridan." " Will that old Irishman never learn to keep his mouth shut?" " Never, while he can do good to a friend by opening it, Tom." " I '11 sue him if he keeps on." "That doesn't seem to do much good, dear lad; I 've been suing ever since I came here this afternoon, and I do not seem to have accomplished anything, Tom, say we shall be married soon, there 's a dear." " Bessie," he said slowly, holding her at arm's length, so that he could look deep into her eyes, " I '11 have to get a clerkship somewhere before that can be. My whole literary work is mortgaged for the future." " You shall not keep that w icked agreement, Tom." ^^ " Oh, Bessie, a promise is a promise," said Moore, " When I have found a position I '11 consider your proposal of marriage. Can't you see. dear, what poor proof of my love for you it would be to allow you to share my present lot? Think how we should struggle, perhaps almost starve." II I should not care if I were with you," she said. " But I, Bessie? It would break my heart to know you were bearing such desolation for love of me." " Where there is love there can be no desolation." Moore's voice shook as he answered her, but he remained firm in his determination. ^?T3rjr-^;^rf^«.j^-ii 286 TOM MOORE You are the bravest girl in all the world. Bessie, but even your sweet words shan't make me close n eyes to the truth. We will go on as we are now. I u fight It out, and when I am satisfied that I can offer you one tithe of what you deserve, if God wills that I succeed, I '11 come to you with open arms. I Ve no head for business. It 's a new world I '11 have to con- quer, dear. We must wait and I '11 not let you bind yourself to me. Perhaps there will be some one else some day — " She stopped his mouth with a kiss. ''How can you be so cuel?" she half sobbed. There can never be any -,ne but you." " But," he said mischievously. " you took so long to make up your mind, I thought — " " Tom, you don't love me or you would not tease me so." " Oh, if you are to be believed, teasin; is no sign of mdifference," said Moore. " It 's a leaf from the book you wrote me this last year that you are reading now Bessie ! " o , "You a-e so obstinate," she sighed. "Ah, Tom you wU succeed in spite of all. I know vou will." "Then, dearest, let us wait. Think, 'how can I expect you to obey me as my wife if you disobey me as a sweetheart ? " " But." said the girl, pouting, " I am not used to bemg rejected." ''/ ant," said he. "It is good experience." 'I I suppose I '11 have to let you have your way." " I suppose you will, Bessie." " Father is coming aft^r me in half an hour," she continued, taking off her hat as she spoke. A PROPOSAL OF MA RRIAGE 287 "So soon?" responded Moore, regretfully. There was a knock on the door. " Come in," said Bessie, quite at home as lady of the house. ''What is that?" said Moore, looking at her. " Come in," she repeated, blushing as she realized her presumption. "So you have established yourself already?" said the poet, his eyes twinkling, as he opened the door It was Mrs. xMalone, resplendent in the best her wardrobe could afford. m^''%m^':mm^^mm m hi I H i>ur '■■fMr ill i P5;- ^ Chapter Twenty- Three THE POET HAS CALLERS AND GIVES A DINNER-PARTY G OOD avening, Misthcr Moore. Oh, it 's yourself, Mistress Dyke? The top of the afternoon, darHng. I just dropped in for a moment to tell ycz the news." " Ah," said Moore, hopefully, " the rent has been lowered, I suppose ? " '* You will have your joke, Misther Moore," chuckled the landlady, sitting down in the chair Moore placed for her. "And you'll have your rent, eh, Mrs. Malone?" " Tom," said Bessie, " do be still. What is the news, Mrs. Malone?" " You are a couple of gossips," declared Moore, sitting on the table between Bessie and the old woman. " Oh, well, scandal is the spice of life they say." " Well," began Mrs. Malone, in a tone appropriate to the importance of her story, " it seems that Sweeny, who kapes the grocery next door but two, has been having throuble with his darter." " My, oh, my ! " exclaimed Moore, properly horri- fied at the unfili I behavior of the young person mentioned. " Hush, Tom." i^im^x^^mmmmmmimmwsmmw-'m'i GIVES A DINNER -PARTY 289 " Why don't he spank the girl ? " demanded the poet. If my daughter — " •' Tom ! '' said Bessie, giving him a reproving pinch. Well, 1 mean if ever I have a daughter." " When vou have will be time enough to tell about her, won't it, Mrs. Malone." Faith," said that hopeful old female, " I luvs to hear young couples planning for the future." "Go on out of that." said Moore, shaking with laughter, while Bessie was visibly discomposed. " You make me blush, Mrs. Malone." " I niver fought I 'd do thot," observed the land- lady. I t'mks that must be one of your kump'ny manners. Howiver, to continyer." " I would if I were you, xMrs. Malone." "Well how can I, if yez kape on bletherin'?" ' I 'm silent as the grave, Mrs. Malone." hool^~"^^^^''^ '' *^^ ^""^'^'^ ^' '" ^^^ neighbor- "Prisent company is always accepted," said the landlady, pohtely wagging her frilled cap till it creaked m Its starchy immaculateness. " If you had been here a few moments ago, you uould have heard it refused," said Bessie, ruefully. ur.!??.'' '"terrupting now?" demanded Mdore in wrathful tones. " Well, the lassie has took up kapin kump'ny on the sly w,d some strange laddybuck, whom nobody knows son'?? 1' T^ ^'" ^^'"^^y ^°°^ ^* the dairyman's son Ike. wid whom she has been thrainin' these free J ears. 19 290 TOM MOORE V " The faithless hussy ! " ejaculated the poet, in scathing condemnation. " Hush ! " said Bessie, now scenting a love story, and correspondingly interested. " So Isaac — that 's the son of the dairyman, you know — " " I 'm satisfied on that point, if the dairyman is," observed Moore, wickedly. Bessie took a pin from her dress. " I '11 punch you with this if you don't behave, Tom Moore." "Is that a joke, Bessie?" " Yes, you *11 think so." " Well, I won't be able to see the point of it if you perforate me. Go on, Mrs. Malone." " So he swore he 'd get even — " " The dairyman ? Oh, then he did have his doubts after all? Whom did he suspect, Mrs. Malone?" Moore leaped oflf the table just in time to escape a vicious thrust from the pin, as Mrs. Maloiie, good- naturedly indifferent to his interruption, continued her recital. " Ike thracked the fine fellow home, or at least as far as he could, and though he lost sight of him with- out locatin' his house, he learned beyond all doubtin' that he is a great gentleman of wealth and fashion." " Ike is? I '11 have to look him up if that is so," said Moore, p'easantly. " Evidently the dairyman was right to be suspicious, and what does Mrs. Dairy- man say now ? " " I 'm not talkin' about Ike," replied Mrs. Malone, scornfully. " It 's the strange lad who is the rich man," r GIVES A DINNER-PARTY doults " ""'" ""'■"''""'al'le to have his " Ho on, Mrs. Malone. I think it is deliRhtfullv rtmarks of her lover. burc, put a bit of a scoundrel after a lass of lower wt s"a"s 'h'"' °' ^"""''"^ '°^ "''= ""'^X "h< aiwavs says How romantic!*" "You will have to leave the room, if you speak agam before Mrs. Malone has finish d her story '' said Bessie, severelv. ^' M.sther Gay Spark, but Sweeny himself." news'of'tlf "r ^''"''1 ^'•^'^^^•^-"y' that the awful " Oh ear r!^'"^^ ?°"'' '^^^^ ^^^ ^o take effect Tane Dnr, '^l^ ^'''''' " ^^°^^ *^^"ble for poor fo excited •'" "^ ^'^ '''' ^''^^^"^ ^^^^>'- I '- ^elg mII-J' "' r!!.7 '?;"''^\^' ^'^'"'^'"^ °^ 't," declared iMoore. Really. Mrs. Malone, vou do wron^ fr> harrow up our feelings in this thrilling mann r We , Jennie IS discovered, and then-?" ' wa:l'™^;Ter.^„;;^!''" "—-'-wn gintitaan intlr^rd."' "' '""■ ""'■ " ''"^O Moore, greatly " From Jane." be' t^e'' fl.f ^ T' T "'"^^- S^^ ^«^« n't deserve to DC the flame of such a soark " c,;^ *u <1.3gusted with the herotae oi the laie' ""'■ """'^ r*!'^. 293 TOM M O O R F, " Nivcr mind thot. So Sweeny has locked up the gal in her room — " "Alone?" " Faith, who would be likely to be with her, sorr?" " Well, you said something about a gay incognito, did n't you ? " suggested Moore. " I niver did in me loife. I Ml have yez to under- stand, Misther Moore. I 'd scorn to use such profane langwidge. I 'm a dacent Catholic, as Father O'Houli- han will tell yez, if yez ask him." " I '11 ask him the next time I sec him." said Moore. " It is always best to be sure about these things. But go on, Mrs. Malone." " Where was I ? " ' You were locked up in the room with Jane oweeny." " I wuz not, forr." " I 'm sure it could n't have been with Sir Incog- nito," said Moore, shocked. "If I wuz locked up wid Jane Sweeny how could 1 be here now ? " demanded the landlady. " Perhaps you made a ladder of the bedclothes, and let yourself down from the window," suggested the poet. " I did not, sorr," replied Mrs. Malone, quite puzzled by the web in which her lodger had entangled her. " Then I '11 give it up, as I never was a good hand at conundrums," said Moore, bubbling over with mer- riment. " Go on with your story about Father O'Hou- lihan's gay friend." " Well anniehow, Isaac and Sweeny and some other of the byes is laying for Masther Gay Spark." GIVES A DINNER-PARTY 29J "For what purpose, Mrs. Malone?" " ^'OT what do yez t'ink?" •' Perhaps mey wish to preset him with the free- dom of the c.ty and a service of silver plate " '• Not much •• said Mrs. Malone. '• Thev are ^olug to l^je hus head off for him. thot 's what they are going "Aren't they good-natured. Hessie?" said Moor*- 1 hope he will see the humorous side of the affair and treat it all as a joke." "Well it will he no laughing matter." said Mrs. Ma one stouUy. " As I said before, thev '11 make jellv of Masther Gay Spark." ' ^ ' ''How terrible!" said Bessie, half frightened. Quite .sauJ Moore. " He '11 have a .sugary time vm ? u^' '" '' '"'^^" '°"'' J^^— hi- Sweeny v.Il turn hmi mto jelly. I ',„ afraid he will be badly jammed one way or another." ''Who can this strange gallant be?" asked Bessie. Ly Gad. what if he were Sir Percival ? " e.xclaimed tlie poet, struck suddenly by the thought. Vou don't think so. Tom?" luck rm'T/r'air-' ''"^"' ^"^'""^'-^' " "° ^^^^ ^^^ •'Well. I t'ink I must be goin'," observed Mrs Malone nsing from her chair reluctantly. " GoS avenm to yez both, darlin's. Oh. there wiU be do^ to-night, there will be doin's." domit 'dl '''''"•"'"" ^ sympathize with him in his domestic disappointments." said Moore. " and give my regards to your friend Master Incognito, though DonVtruf r-' ''^- -'"' ' ''"''' '^ >-. Mrs.'Mabne i^'on I trust him too iar vnnrc^if t • j r . iw iar yourselt. l d never be alone rc% ^*^?i^RfSf5S^^ I! ill 294 TOM MOORE with him, if I were you, for it is best to be on the safe side always." " Stop your tazingf me, Tom Moore, or I 'II take you across me knee and jjive you what you deserve," re- torted the landlady, with a broad grimace which was (luitc in keeping with hei lortly person. Moore opened the dwjr with a Ixjw in his most drawing-room manner, and having bestowed upon Bessie a ponderous courtesy, the old woman waddled out, running into Mr. Sheridan, who, being about to enter, was thus rudely thrust back against Mr. Brum- mell. who, elegantly attired as usual, was directly behind him. "Zooks!" exclaimed the Beau plaintively. "Sherrj', I told you that you should not drink that last glass. You have ruffled my cravat in a most shameful manner." " I beg your parding. gintlemen," said Mrs. Malone, remorsefully, "■ but divil a bit did I see yez." ■■ Mistress Bridget, no apologies are necessary," said Mr. Sheridan, graciously. " How well you are looking to-day." "D'ye t'ink so?" giggled the ancient dame, more than tickled by her great countryman's condescension. "On me honor," replied Mr. Sheridan. "You agree with me, don't you, George?" " Entirely," drawled Brummell, " entirely, 'pon my soul. Mow d'ye do, Tom?" Moore's face beamed with delight as he saw who his visitors were. " I 'm fine," he said. " Come in, friends, and make yourself easy." " Mistress Dyke," murmured Brummell, with a courtly bow. GIVES A DINNER-PARTY 295 " Mistress Moore that is to be," corrected Moore, proudly, " whenever I can afford such a luxury." " What did I tell you, George? " said Sheridan, de- lightedly, nudging the Beau with his elbow. " Do be careful. Sherry." replied I'.rununell. warn- ingly. " Tom, I congratulate you." " So do I," said Sheridan. " Vou have a cheerful den. Tomtnv. Here is a home for you, Brummell." " Docs Mr. lirumniell need a home? " asked Moore, waving his guests to the most comfortable of the chairs. *' Faith, the Beau is better at breaking them than maL. g them," remarked *he elder man. with a. chuckle. " Zooks! " drawled Brummoii, " that reminds me of an cxccrahle jest of which the Regent was guiltv a fortnight ago. ' Why am I like a farmer? ' he inqui'red of Percy Lovelace, who politely confessed that he could detect no resemblance. 'Because,' said his Highness. 'I keep a rake within reach,' and pointed with his n. )nocle at Richard Brinsley." "That is a mighty bad pun, I'm thinking," said Moore to Bessie. " Tom " she said warningly, "are you not already sufficiently out of favor?" " Pooh, Bessie, these lads are mv friends. Tell me the news, you old gossip. Am I still in disgrace? " bhendan shook his gray wig dolefully. " t7°^ '""^' ^°"'"'^'' ^ '^^'^^ *° ^^y'" he answered. Ihe Regent honors you with his personal profanity almost daily." i' - ii> Brummell took a dainty pinch of snuff and pro ceeded to change the subject. n r i: 296 TOM MOORE " Have you heard of the Prince's quarrel with Mrs. FitzHerbert ? " he asked. " No," said jMoore, " have those turtle-doves had a falling out?" " Oh, it won't last long," said Sheridan, " but while it does endure it is a mighty warm litlle spat." "What caused the trouble if I may ask. Sherry?" " The drollest reason," said the Reau with a digni- fied smile. " You '11 never guess it, Tommy." " Then I '11 not try." "Tell him, Sherry," said the Beau, adjusting his ruffles. " She became angry because the Regent visited his wife late in the evening without a chaperon," laughed the old Irishman. " My, oh, my ! " exclaimed Moore, horrified. " Has the Prince no sense of decorum ? " "How goes the world with you, children?" de- manded Sheridan, kindly. " Do you manage to exist without the approval of royalty ? " " We are getting on somehow. I have enough to eat, almost enough to drink — " " You are indeed fortunate," interjected Sheridan. " I cannot recall any period in my career when I had anywhere near enough to drink." " You must remember, Sherry," said the Beau, lan- guidly, " every Irishman does not have a bottomless pit where nature usually places a stomach. Your pardon. Mistress Dyke, for using so corporeal a term." " Well, to continue," said Moore, " besides the pos- sessions already enumerated I have a roof over my head, and these same luxuries I can offer to my wife when I get her." 1 i h GIVES A DINNER_PARTY -97 Bessie looked up at him lovingly as he sat down on the arm of the chair she occupied. "We will be so happy," she said shvly to Mr. Sheridan. "And we will need no chaperon, I 'm thinking," said Moore. "I -11 wager you won't," said Sheridan, wisely. Well, George, let's get on our way." "Whafs that?" said Moore, quickly. "Get on your way? Not much. You are going to stay to supper with us." " Well," said Sheridan, who had risen in a hesi- tating way, " I _ " " Oh," said Moore, divining the cause of his country- mati s embarrassment, " it is true that vou won't get much to eat, but you are more than welcome to what- ever there is; and besides, think of the company you will be in." tr j j "That last decides me, if Mistress Dyke extends the invitation," said Sheridan, yielding in response to a nod from the Beau, who had decided to remain. " Tom speaks for both of us," said Bessie. " Don't you. Tom?" "Yes. and some day I '11 listen for both of us. no doubt. That will be when she points out my faults, lads \ou must stay. Bessie will make the tea - that IS, ,f there is any tea. If there is n't any, she '11 mix the whisky. " Good," said Sheridan, smacking his lips "But there is tea." said the girl, opening the caddy Which she found in the cupboard. "Just our luck, eh. Sherry? " "said the poet, dis- consolately. ^ 298 TOM MOORE i ^ B i i 1 h' lUi ill! Buster entered at this opportune moment and busied himself, with the assistance of Bessie, in preparing the simple meal. Moore drew the chairs into position by the table as Bessie laid the plates. You are to sit there, you disreputable old Hiber- nian," said he, assisting Sheridan to a scat on the right. " Your place is there at the end, Fashion Plate. 1 '11 preside just opposite you across the festive board, and Bessie shall sit on your left hand." "Is she heavy?" inquired Sheridan, interestedly, as he sat down. " I 'm speaking metaphorically,'" the poet rattled on. " How goes the play, Sherry ? " Pizarro ' is certainly doing a fine business. ' re- plied thr aged dramatist. " The public likes blood and thunder." " I suppose you sent a box to the Dutchman that wrote it?" said Moore. " On the contrary. Tommy, I think he should buy one to see how his play should have been written in the first place," replied Sheridan, not at all discon- certed, for he made no bones about admitting his indebtedness to Kotzebue for his last great success. " For my part, I 'm afraid Anacreon might not ap- preciate some of the Odes as now rendered according to the gospel of Thomas." " Well, he was dead when I tackled him," retorted Moore. " Which no doubt saved you from answering at the bar to the charge of manslaughter, for I 'm sure he 'd never have survived the heroic treatment you gave him." Li 1 GIVES A DINNER-PARTY 299 "Tea is ready," announced Bessie, opportunely. '' Good," said Moore. " Buster, bring the wine." " But there hain't none," responded the lad. " Bring it, anyway. Any one can bring wine when thc-e is wine, but it takes a smart bov to fetch it when there is n't any." " Hi hain't smart henuff," said Buster. "It is of no importance, Tom," said Brummell, graciously. "Since when?" demanded Moore in surprise " How is that, Sherry ? " " I never drink," said the elder man, waving aside the idea of alcoholic indulgence wi^h a gesture of fine contempt. " No? " asked the poet, wonderingly. " Oh, T sup- pose you have it rubbed into your skin by vour valet " At this moment Bessie, having finished' setting the table, sat down in the chair pulled out for her by Sher- idan and the Beau in gallant competition, and the supper began. " Will you say grace, Brummell?" asked Moore. " Say It yourself," drawled the Arbiter of Fashion smihng lazily at his hostess. ' " But, his Highness thinks me a graceless rogue " objected the poet, "so it would be an act of treason for me to prove him a liar." " Well, then, I '11 say it meself." volunteered Sher- idan, with a wink at Moore. ' Good man. Hush, now, every one." Sheridan rose from his chair and leaning over took possession of the bread plate. "Ah." said Moore, knowingly, "then it is to be Oive us this day our daily bread,' eh, Sherry?" ■'3Bgf=^'V-^i*Y. "^ 300 TOM MOORE il k f i n M 1;: ' i " You are away off the scent, Tommy," responded the dramatist in a superior tone. " Nothing so conventional would be appropriate for this festive occasion." " Do go on, Sherry," advised Brummell, " I am growing disgracefully hungry." " Anything to oblige. Beau. See, friends, ' Thrre 's bread here for four of us : i hank God, there 's no more of us I ' " Sheridan sat down amidst the laughing approval of the others. "That," observed Moore, "is what I call a curst fine bit of prayer-making. Sherry and I like our prayers like our liquor — concentrated." " Your remark is a trifle paradoxical," commented Brummell. " Yes, Mistress Bessie, sugar and milk both." •' Brummell has a sweet tooth," said Sheridan, tak- ing the cup Bessie passed him. " And Bessie has a sweet mouth," said Moore, but- tering his bread generously. " I suppose you know all about that. Tom ? " " Trust me for that. Sherry." "That sort of credit is easy for an Irishman to obtain," said tY old gentleman. "With Bessie?" inquired Moore. "That shows you have never tried, Sherry." " He does n't know whether I have or not, does he, Mistress Bessie ? " "Of course he doesn't," chimed in the girl, co- quettishly. " We don't have to tell him all our little frolics, do we? " :mc?'^^2%T-t'i^-l£i&'^R^I^^M#^-i:|^^^ GIVES A DINNER-PARTY 30T " I d hat • to if I hoped to retain his friendship," chuckled the wit. " It is like confident youth to imag- ine itself ever the only favored." " Look here," said Moore, aggressively, " there will be enough of this supper, such as it is, to go around handsomely without trying to spoil my appe- tite with your base innuendoes, you old scandal-school maker." " He is jealous," observed Sheridan. " Just have the kindness to remember my age, Thomas." " Piow can I when you yourself do not?" asked the poet, slyly. " Brummell, pass the butter. If it 's stronger than you are, shout for help." "You wrong the article,"said the Beau. handing over the desired plate. " It 's quiescence is most amiable." That reminds me," Moore remarked thoughtfully, " of a scheme I have for increasing the volume of the milk given by the cow." "Volume?" repeated Sheridan. " D' ye mean the way the tale is presented to the public ? " " Well, if you let the bovine offspring remain toe adjacent it 's bound in calf the lacteal fluid would be," replied Moore. " Faith, the animal should be brought to book for that." returned Sheridan. " She 'd probably turn pale at the thought and kick over the cream," retorted Moore. "Dear me!" cried Bessie, "what brilliant gentle- men, are they not, Mr. Brummell ? " " Yes, xMistress Dyke," answered the Beau, " they are not." Bessie laughc ' at the unexpected termination of the Beau's remark. ■•■» ..II.!/-, Pi « a K. .?02 T O M M GORE " A couple of silly punsters, pon my hoi. or," sighed the exquisite, nibbling his bread daintily, " I think, Sherry," said Moore, " after that rebuke we had better be less witty, i 'n tell my story later on. The bill of fare includes chicken, gentlemen." "Oh, Tom," said Bessie, shocked, "how can vou fib so?" ' " In the shell, Bessie, in the shell," explained the host, holding up an egg. " Cold and hard, but so voung it would melt in your mouth. Then comes bread-and- butter and tea." '' My favorite dish, believe me," declared Brummell. "Then comes tea and bread-and-butter. Next, some cups and saucers and knives and forks." "D'ye think we are ostriches?" demanded Sheridan. ''^ Then comes the best of all, gentlemen, the dessert," " And what may that be, Tommy ? " "Well, it may be custard pudding — " '' Ah ! " said Brummell in an approving tone. " But it is n't," continued Moore, " It is something even sweeter and softer." "Don't arouse my curiosity further," pleaded Sheridan. " Well, then, we are to have kisses for desseit." Sheridan and the Beau applauded noisily while Bessie blushed in a most becoming manner. "How is the dessert to be served, Tommy?" " I kiss Bessie," said Moore, exultantly. ' " Then comes your turn, Sherry." " Ah ! " said that gentleman, smacking his lips in anticipation. " Then comes your turn, Sherry. You kiss Brum- mell," w'^iMm'^ mi^^wmsmg&muiiii^mL GIVES A DINNER-PARTY 303 The wit gave an exclamation of disappointment, while the rest of the party laughed heartily. Really, Tom, " said the Beau, " this egg is deli- cious." " Sure it is," replied his host. " We raised that one on the bottle, did n't we, Bessie ? " Alcan while he had helped himself to another, and cracking the shell, turned away with an exclamation of disgust. ^ "Oh, Lord!" he exclaimed, holding his nose. " Bessie, I knew I ought to have hurried home with that egg if I wanted to cat it. Faith, it is too much a chicken to be an egg, and too much egg to be a chicken. Buster, accept this with my compliments." Buster obediently carried away the cause of the trouble and stowed it outside on a corner of the window-sill, reserving it for use as ammunition at some future time. "I never drank such tea, Mistress Bessie," said Sheridan, passing his cup to be refilled. " Really you arc an enchantress." " She enchanted me years ago," said Moore. " I suited him to a tee the first time I saw him," said Bessie, laughing. " A pun is the lowest form of humor," said Moore severely. ' " And therefore at the bottom of all true wit," said Sheridan, coming lo his hostess's defence like the gallant old Irishman he was. "It seems to me you two are very thick," said Moore critically. « I 'H have you to understand, Richard Bnnsley, that I am not to be treated with contempt." isi?M^:'^s^t;\jmf\^KBmD^iir ^n^ :U{ 304 TOM MOORE " I think Irish whisky would be what I should treat you with, Tommy." *' A happy thought," cried tlie poet. " Buster, the Dew of Heaven." " Some 'un just knocked, Mr. Moore," said the boy. " Then open the door, you gossoon," Buster did so, and Lord Brooking stepped quickly into the room. Chapter Twenty-Four TOM MOORE HEARS OF A POLITICAL APPOINTMENT u L ORD BROOKING." cried Bessie in sur- prise, rising from the table. "I thought you were still on the Continent " " Not I, Mistress Dyke. I returned yesterday. So, Mr.^Moore, you have been getting into trouble, have "Did you ev^r hear of an Irishman who was able o keep out of it long?" asked Sheridan, waving his hand in greeting to the young nobleman. M '.^TJ°'"'''^'P ^^' ^^""^ J"'* '" time. Buster, call Miat bulldog away before Lord Brooking bites him. ?oLT Z ''/''? J"^- ^^'''y' "^°^^ "P ^"d make room for his lordship." "There hain't any more plites." said Buster in a hoarse whisper. "Then get a saucer," commanded Moore, gaily ^^.^^No, no. Tom." said his lordship. " I Ve just "Oh you know you are welcome." said Moore. Uon t be too polite if you are hungry " " I could n't eat a mouthful," said Lord Brooking. SheHd^r '-" '"^'^'" ^^'^P^-^ ^^-- 'o so Iff '■ I 1 1 V 1 \l I 306 TOM MOORE "Tut, tut, Tom," quoth that staid old party. " Pro- fanity is a luxury and should be used not abused." "That's like an obedient wife," said Moore. "Your lordship, this is an impromptu banquet to celebrate my engagement to Mistress Dyke." " Is the engagement an impromptu ? " asked Sher- idan. " No, we got it by heart," said Moore. Brummell clapped his pretty hands in delight. " Egad," said he, " I Ve not heard such verbal fire- works this six months." " So you are betrothed, Tom ? " said Lord Brooking. " The darlin' has made me say ' Yes ' at last," said Moore in an apparently bashful tone. " Mistress Dyke," said his lordship, taking her hand and kissing it, " Tom is indeed a lucky man. I wish you both all the happiness you deserve. Hang me, if I m not envious, Tom. I ve half a mind to marry myself." "It takes a smart man to marry himself," com- mented Moore, " but it is economical." Brooking sat down and crossed his legs in an easy attitude. " I have news for you, Tom," said he. " News that I fancy will please you." " Have you found me a long-lost uncle, childless, wifeless, and worth a million ? " " Not exactly." " What, then, your lordship? Surely not a long-lost son ? " " I have endeavored to secure you the appointment of Registrar of the Admiralty Court at Bermuda. The salary of the office is five hundred pounds yearly." ■■ I fi-'^M^ A POLITICAL APPOIXTMENT 307 " Bermuda? •' echoed the poet, hardiv able to believe his ears. "Where the devil is Bermuda?" asked Sheridan, takmg snuff. " That is where the onions come from, vou ancient Ignoramus, but its geographical location docs not mat- ter tuppence," said Moore. '• If you get the place for me. .vr, I will accept it gladly, and I thank vou more than I can tell for the attempt, whether vou succeed or not. " Pshaw," said Lord Brooking, " wait until I put the appomtment in your hands, Tom." "Ah," said Bessie, softly, "your lordship knows how grateful we both are for your many kindnesses " Say no more about it," replied the voung noble- man, blushing like a girl. " If I may truthfully con- gratulate myself on having made the world brighter and hfc s path easier for two such deserving friends 1 have gamed a satisfaction no money could ever p«urchasc." Moore shook his patron's hand with a grip that con- veyed more than any words of thanks could have done, lommy, my boy, rlon't you need a private secre- tary? inquired Sheridan. " Thank you, I '11 have no such ladv-killer in my official family," replied Moore. '' I congm . late you both," said Brummell, " but we wih miss you when Bermuda claims your societv " You shall still be in touch with the world."' said Sheridan. "I'll write you all the scandal ;nce a "It will taLe a pound for postage if you write it ail, Cherry, said Moore, dubiously. .'sOR TO M MOORE vnd I," sauI Brummcll, rising, pcwnpously. " will keep you informed of the changes I deem ad v' sable to make in the fashions." " That V mighty good of you, Beau." ' 'I., tii.-.t will be sj)lendid," said Besr. "1 will »et all iho J yles on the island." " .\oi tn;uh," said Moore, horrified " To d that, Btissif, you ould have to wear fig-loaves." " I'roinisc uw, Tom, that you wii let me know if til!- !,!,.,.;, \.dies a.e as pretty as fhey sav?" said Sheiiian. " I will invest'gatc that matter mvself." responded the poet, winking slyly at the dramatist. " Indeed you will do nothing ..f the kind, Tom Moore," said lic> ic in an indignant tone. "Certainly not," said he. " Sherry, you are a wicked old man to even suggest such a thing. " ■ I was always fond of bi nnttes," said bheridan, calmly, " like you, T .m." " What horrid thing , men are! " "Old men are," asented loore. " Sherrv, vou are a shocking old rascal." " He is no worse than you, Tom," said the girl. " Not half so bad, or. my honor," observe he elder gentleman. " You arc so, Mr. Sheridan," said the gir hanj:; ,^ front immediately. " See, Sherry, you can't abuse me with ;nipunity, declar J Moore with a chuckle. " I '11 abuse , ou with profanity if yoi do not stop flaunting your ama' ry success in m vener- able countenance," tartly etorted the gav ol. Irish- man. ¥. J- A POLITICAL APPOINT ME V T 309 I urd Brooking looked at his w.r h I-mdu., U,,.v F:,. „r,-s „a, ,„ ,|„„ricals >n ten luimi os, .. , "Ji i"-a..l H 11. smoothing hi> ruffles. Brookie, me! .. ' ' -'"^ '^"- I^ our ca! waiting, -"^'^ '•'■" f^' ^is' ^dsliip. "I .triad ' vour c< ! „ . , ^'^" . 'Brun. ell: < ^lose quar rs with ^ /^«' ■roo .. ,aidthc ,eau. '• I prefer not •'^ar, , lux ostume by crowding Sh.-Man " A sauI .M,x>re. " An Irishman 's a :ul thing '"' an ^!,shman to crowd too far. Sine- .. ., are S"t '■ he neighborhood. Such swell nn 2 ten.pt gan.e, and there is many a darK on!^ ' -dni t. Mistress Dyke." said Lord I .^ t' low . .er her hand. ^' •■ .ood nigiit." she said sweetly, "and thank you ■ I'romise that once in a while vo„ ,vill write me how fortune treats yon if ,. „ g„ ,' Bennnda " I ery momh," answcr«l the Rirl, her eves bright •!■ '^- paftude which tilled her heart. ■• God bless- on, i'^ehil"'" "" '" '°'''""' =^'"' -" ^'^PM Sheridan kissed Bessie's hand, and purposely h„. 3IO TOM MOORE gered over it so long that IMoore shook his fist at him. Easy there, Sherry, easy there." " Selfish man ! " murmured Sheridan, as he followed Brookmg. " Good night, xMistress Dyke." Brummell bade good night to his hostess and jomed the others in their descent as Moore, after makmg a feint of putting a kiss upon Bessie's nand, at the last moment transferred it to her smil- mg lips, Tom^°" ''°"'' ^ ^°"^^'' *^^" '" necessary, will you, " I '11 not be half that long," said he, running after his guests, who were now well on their way down the first flight of stairs. 3essie turned from the door with a rapturous si-h only to receive a reproachful glance from Buster, who was sternly regarding her. " Wot '11 become hof my morals hif these hindear- ments continyers?" thought the lad, vaguely jealous. Hit s henuff to turn one hagin mater-ri-monv that 's wot hit his. Hi thinks Hi '11 jine a monkery." " To Bessie." murmured the girl, kissing the poem as she drew it from her breast, little suspecting Luster s doubtful frame of mind. " Buster, vou may clear away the tea-things after you have had your supper. I must go down and tell Mrs. Malone the good news." "Well, hif she harsks arfter me, sav Montgomery Juhen Hethelbert sends 'is luv," said 'the boy, more cheerfully. " Montgomery Julien Ethelbert," said the girl ooen- ing the door. ' ^ hlH A POLITICAL APPOIN TMENT 3,, When she had closed it behind her. Buster addressed himself disgustedly to his pal, Lord Castlereagh. Montgomery Julien Hethelbert," he repeated in A.gh disdain. "Hain't that an ell of a nime for a sporting cove like me?" " W'uff ! " barked the dog, in sympathy. K 4. S- I? I : ri ■■ P ■ li Chapter Twenty-Five RECEIVES A WARM SIR INCOGNITO WELCOME THE gentleman whose attentions to Jane Sweeny were causing so much excitement in the neighborhood favored by her residence, little suspecting that a warm welcome was there in preparation for him, let himself quietly out of a little private door in the rear of his great mansion and turned his steps cheerfully towards their rendezvous. He seemed to be in fine spirits, for once or twice he checked a whistle as it was about to escape from the lips he had unconsciously pursed as he strode quickly along. It seemed to be his wish to avoid recognition, for he kept his face hidden as much as was rendered pos- sible by his up-turned cloak collar and wide, drawn- down hat brim, thcupfh this desire upon his part seemed to grow less imperative as he left the fashion- able locality in which he lived, and turning down a side street, followed a course that twisted and turned from poor neighborhood to even poorer, then on till the respectability of the locality was once more on the increase until he found himself on a shabby street not far from the one on which the establishment of Mrs. Malone was situated. The spot at which he had §^:^^^-A^-r^\ Tmu^,,ii r:jKSir>^ A WATM WELCOME 3M arranged to meet Sweeny's daughter was now near at hand The gentleman, who was tall and well shaped, though shghtly inclined to corpulence, strolled leis- urely along the street, evidently confident tfiat his charmer would not fail to be on hand promptly at their trystmg place, but much to his surprise, when he arrived there was no one waiting for him. He paused gave an exclamation of disappointment, and, drawing out his watch, stepped nearer the street lamp that he might see if he had anticipated the time appointed for his arrival. The timepiece assured him that he was several minutes behind the chosen hour, and after swearing softly to himself, ho pocketed it and turned mtendmg to stroll leisurely up and down the street until the tardy damsel should put in an appearance At this moment a stalwart youth, with eyes set widely apart and the jaw of a pugilist, walked softly across from the opposite side. So noiseless was his tread that the first comer did not discover his proximity until he had approached within a yard or two. "Hare yer witing for some 'un?" demanded the unprepossessing youth, whose name it is almost a needless formality to announce was Isaac " VVIiat is that to you, sir?" replied the gentleman, haughtily, contemptuously regarding his questioner. ^^ U y sir, Jine harsked me -- " " Oh, Jane sent you then ? " " Ha I " cried the younger man, triumphantly. " Hi uz sure yer wuz the cove. There hain't no doubt • bout it now." "Perhaps you will be kind enough to inform me as to he reason for this sudden ebullition of delight'" said the gentleman, puzzled by the youth's behavior ! I 3H TOM MOORE 11 ,i i: Jfl and, if not alarmed, not exactly at ease as to the prob- able developments of the immediate future. If his eyes had been a trifle more used to the sem,-darkness of the street, particularly at the places micway between the flickering lanterns, on whose mcompetent illumination depended the lighting of the peat city after nightfall, the elegant stranger would have perceived that his interrogator was not alone. Several httle groups had emerged from convenient doorways and cellars, and. clustered in the denser shadows for temporary concealment, awaited a pre- arranged signal to advance. These sinister-looking mdividuals were armed with weapons still more sin- ister. - knotty cudgels, heavy canes, in one instance an axe handle and in another a spade, new and un- sullied as yet by labor. "Ho. Hi '11 be kind henuflF, don't 'ee fear," sneered Isaac, and with a quick movement he snatched his felt hat from his bullet head and slapped it viciously ar-oss the face of his r npanion. Immediately he received a blow on the chin straight from the shoulder of the insulted gallant, which dropped him, an inert bundle of clothing, in the filth of the gutter. " Down with the swell ! " yelled an enthusiastic lad armed with an empty quart bottle, as the crowd surtrcd forward from both sides, scattering across the street to cut oflF all chance of their game's escape. The object of their hostile intentions threw a hurried glance around him and. realizing the futility of at- tempting to break through the ranks of his enemies gave an exclamation of despair. Escape seemed im- possible, yet surrender was not to be thought of. for A WARM WELCOME 3^5 tlie fate in store for him at their hands was only too plainly evidenced by their demeanor. Turning, he ran up the steps of the house immediately behind him and tried the door. It was locked and made of material far too tough and seasoned to yield to the impact of his weight, as he found when he had hurled himself with crushing force against it. Meanwhile the mob had almost reached the steps which at their highest point attained an altitude of about eight feet. If he ran down to the street it would be only to rush into their clutches ; unarmed as he was he could not long successfully defend the stairs; then what could he do? ''Watch?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Watch! Watch to the rescue! Murder! Watch' Help!" The united force of his pursuers halted in front of the house where he had vainly endeavored to secure an entrance. The game was trapped and their plan had met with success quite unqualified, unless the in- sensibility resulting from the tremendous punch u hich Isaac's jaw had received from the gentleman now at bay at the top of the steps could be regarded in the light of a serious reverse. The disposition of the still unconscious youth's companions seemed to be to re- gard his misfortune in the light of a joke, though their obvious intention was to add this example of the strange gallant's prowess to the total of the score for which they expected to secure settlement in full with- out further delay. '"He's an 'ansome pusson. hain't 'ee?" remarked one facetious individual in the front rank of the crowd assembled at the bottom step. i ■fk ' JTll '.I .:l i ^ n * 316 TOM MOORE " A blooming Prince Charmin'," assented a hcavy- browed ruffian, resting his great cudgel on the railing. ' Oh, but he aren't a circumstance to what he will look when we have altered his countenance a bit." *' It stroikes me the spalpeen has been powdering his mug," growled Sweeny, his little eves blazing with a ferocious light. Mis lips, damp and red, were wolf- hke as his tusk-shaped and scattered teeth bit deep into them in his rage. " He 's pale loike." "Watch! Watch!" " Call, sorr, call. It 's no good the watch will do yez this noight. Ye 'II git a bating now that ye will carry the marks of to your dying day." " I 'd rather be excused, sir,"' replied the gentleman, coolly. " Unless I mistake, I have not the honor of your acquaintance." " I *m Sweeny, Jane's father." " Indeed? How do you do, Mr. Sweeny? " politely mquired the girl's admirer. " I '11 be better when I 've pounded you to a pulp " growled the old Irishman, taking a new and firmer grip on the club he held. "Then why delay, friends? Let us have it over with at once," suggested the hunted gentleman, smil- ing as pleasantly as though he were inviting divers acquaintances to partake of biscuits and tea. " Bli' me, hif 'ee ain't a well-plucked cove," said the lad with the bottle. A murmur of admiring assent ran through the crowd. It would be much greater sport to beat so valiant a gentleman to death than to thrash a low- spirited coward such as they had anticipated encoun- tering. These worthy and unworthy denizens of ri mi^jm!^ A WARM WELCOME 317 poverty-stricken dwellings, for in the assemblage there were both honest and dishonest, like most of their rank ni society, were firm believers in the theory that *? -. clothes and a high-bred manner were reliable it tions of a cowardly spirit and physical weakness, so suddenly have their ideas on this subject proved incorrect was a surprise more startling than would be at first imagined. Sweeny felt that his followers were wavering in their allegiance, and fearing lest further delay might result m a behavior on their part unsatisfactory to him personally, he gave a growl of wrath and rushed fiercely up the steps waving his cudgel. The gentle- man calmly and skilfully kicked him in the mouth and sent him hurling backward down on the heads of his fnends, bloodstained and well nigh insensible. This bit of battle decided the action of the mob, and, excited by the sight of their leader's blood, they pressed reso- lutely up the steps. It was quite impossible for the hunted gallant to beat back such a force as was now attacking him, and, fully realizing this, he made no such attempt. Instead, he tore his cloak from about his shoulders and threw it over the heads of the fore- most of his opponents, leaped quicklv on the railing of the steps and sprang wildly and hopelessly towards the parallel flight which led to the front door of the adjacent house. He reached the rail with his hands, VM h the terrible force with which his body struck the side of the steps, so, with a groan of despair, he fell in the areaway Hs tumbled feet first on a grating lead- ing to the cellar of the house, which Jve vl and precipiialed him into the depths below, as his pur- n 3i8 TOM MOORE suers. mad with the excitement of the chase, rushed down the stairs from which he had made his darine leap. It looked as though it might go hard with the unknown gentleman, valiant and resourceful though he had proven himself. *' jmmi^' Chapter Twenty-Six TOM MOORES SERVANT FRIEND IN NEED PROVES A BUSTER ate a hearty supper and fed Lord Castlereagh with tlie scraps. This done, he was about to proceed with the dish-washing, a kind of toil for which he had a more than ordinary contempt and dislike, when the sound of shouting in the street attracted his attention. For once in his life the boy had failed to ascertain the news of the neighborhood of that day, and as he had been absent when Mrs. Malone conveyed to his master the intelligence of Sweeny's purposed ambush of Jane's unknown swain, he had had no tidings concerning that important happening, so was not the active participant in the adventure that he would other- wise have been. This being the case, he was quite at a loss to account for the sounds of tumult below. "My heye!" he remarked to the bulldog, whose curiosity was similarly aroused, "wot a rumpussin'. Who's getting beat hor married, Hi wonders?" Sticking his head out of the window, the boy could discern nothing down in the dark street. It was quite evident that the voices which had attracted his atten- tion proceeded from one of the narrow lanes running at right angles to the larger thoroughfare on which the lodgings of Moore fronted. i 320 TOM MOORE lift I .hin W ^ ^ ', "''"' ^ ^^°°^y ^°^' ^°^' y°"'- Jord- T^ u'h ""' ""''P' '^^"^ ^^ '* ^'^'^ °"«. don't we? •• reason fo °^ ^''' ' ^'^'"" °^ '•^^^"^- «^ ^^^ "<> reason for remaining quiet when such unexcelled opportunities for vigorous contention were b^^^ g offered gratuitously below. Buster shook his head sadly. "Halas!" he observed in a melancholy tone. "That hole gladheateral spirit hof yourn his never horf tap h'^r r t'''°°"''"«^ '^^'^ P"^'"^^' that's wot you h arc. You horter be hashamed of yourself for wantin' to happropnate somebody else's private row " Lord Castlereagh felt unjustly rebuked and retired in he hubbub, which continued below, growing grad- partmg from he immediate neighborhood. Suddenly he dogs quick ear detected an unwonted sound com- ing from he rooftops, and with a growl, spurred on by his still unsatisfied curiosity, he ran across the days had been wont to evade the vigilance of Mrs Malone Buster followed him. and. locking acros he undulating surface made by the irregular r^fs- a sort of architectural sea rendered choppv bv uplift- .ng ndge-poles and gables of various sMes, cu7i Uo h gh waves and low troughs by the dissimilar heights of sundry buildings, with chimneys rising buoy-1ike f om the b.l owy depths, which in the darkness w re blended softly together by the mellowing and connect! aistant. At the same moment there came a howl of SERVANT PROVES A FRIEND 321 fury from the street bebw, which grew louder, as though the crowd from which it emanated were stream- ing back in the direction of Mrs. Malone's residence The fugitive, for that he was such could not be doubted, beat a hurried retreat across the roofs, trip- pmg, falling, crawling, but ever making progress and nearly always hidden from the point at which he had effected his entrance to the house-tops by the friendly shelter of intervening chimneys and gables. All at once a burly form leaped out of the scuttle from which the first comer had emerged. This newly arrived mdividual carried a club and was followed out on the roof by half-a-dozen companions of the same ilk Straightening up to his full height, while gingerly balancing on the nearest ridgepole, the fellow caught a glimpse of their prey crawling up a steep roof quite a little distance further on towards the window from which Buster was now intently watching the chase " There he goes. lads. He is right in line with that tallest chimbley," bellowed the leader. " Aye, aye ! After him ! After him ! " An answering howl came from the street, and, slid- ing, running and stumbling, the pursuers began to follow the fugitive across the housetops. Then they lost sight of him, and for a while completely baffled searched in a scattered line, slowly advancing, investi- gatmg each possible hiding-place as they came to it urged on by the growling of the mob patrolling the street below. Suddenly one of their number, the lad armed with the huge bottle, tripped over a broken clothesline and fell headlong into the V-shaped trough formed by the eaves of the two adjacent houses. He luuiid himself rudely precipitated on the bod v of the 31 322 r O M MOORE : hunted man, who had lain snugly concealed at the very bottom of the roof-made angle, but before he could do more than utter one choking scream, the fugitive, despairing of further concealment, silenced his discoverer with his fist, and with the rest of the pack in full :ry at his heels, began again his wild flight over the roofs. Fortune favored him once more, and the band hunting him was forced for a second time to pause and scatter in close scrutiny of the ground over which the fleeing gallant had made his way. Then Buster saw a tall figure creep out of the gloom cast by a huge chimney, which, shadowing a roof near by, had enabled him to crawl undetected from the hiding- place that he had found beneath the eaves of an un- usually tall buil(' iig, near the house from the attic of which the boy was now excitedly tracing his line of flight. Buster's sympathy was all with the fleeing man. To sympath./p was to act, and having found the rope- ladder which used to serve his master as a means of exit by the window when prudence dictated such an evasion, he tumbled it out, at the same time attracting the hunted gentleman's attention with a friendly hiss. "This w'y, sir, this w'y," whispered Buster, si- lencing the threatened outcry of Lord Castlereagh with a commanding gesture. " Keep low has you can till you gets 'ere. The big chimbley '11 keep 'em from seeing you till you 're safe hup, sir." Crawling rapidly along on his hands and knees, the much-sought gentleman managed to gain the neces- sary distance without being discovered, and sheltered by the grim outlines of the huge chimney Buster had mdicatcd, he climbed laboriously up the ladder to the window of Moore's attic. The boy held out a wefcom- SERVANT PROVES A FRIEND uj ing hand and assisted him to enter. Once is the stranger gave a sobbing sigh of relief, and gropt 1 his way to a chair. The moon, till now providentially bcdimmed, came out from behind the froth of clouds and the light entering the window fell full on the new-comer's flushed face. " Blow m-. ' cried the boy in astonisliment. " Hif it hain't the Prince hof VVyles ! " \ m If ■ if ] I Chapter Twenty-Seven THE POET REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR u y: 'OU know me?" " Hi just does, your 'Ighness," replied the boy, dragging up the ladder as he spoke. This he deposited in its usual hiding-place before turning to his royal guest, who was still panting from the exertion of his flight. " Put out the light," directed the Prince, pointing to the candles on the mantel. " Ho, no, your 'Ighness. That "d make them sus- picious," dissented Buster. " Perhaps you are right," said Wales, reflectively. " Per'aps Hi his," admitted the boy. " Hi ain't hallus wrong, you know, your 'Ighness." " What place is this, my lad ? " "This," replied Buster, grandiloquently, "his the palatial residence of the famous poet, Mr. Thon • Moore." ^ "Moore!" repeated the Prince in astonishm " Fatality pursues me." " Hif that 's wot wuz barter you Hi don't wonder you cut stick," said the boy, cautiously peering out of the window. "To while away a ttJious evening I sometimes assume a disguise such as my present adornment and REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 325 go out in search of adventures," said Wales, conde- scending to explain his present predicament. " Yessir," said Buster, " Hi knows Jine Sweeny myself. You hare the pusson Hi saw with 'er the hother night." " Did you recognize me ? " " Not then, sir, your 'at wuz pulled too low." " Perhaps you knew that a demonstration was being prepared in my honor this evening?" " Not I, your 'Ighness. Ho law ! but hit 's lucky Hi saw you. They 'd likely have beat your 'ead horf you, your Majesty." " That seemed to be their intention," assented Wales, " nor have they yet abandoned the idea, if I interpret their present activity correctly." " Hif they manages to trice you ere, wot Ml we do? " demanded Buster, as the sounds on the roofs outside drew nearer. "What would you suggest?" asked the Prince, quite calmly. " You 'd 'ave to tell 'em who you are." "Ah!" said Wales, doubtfully, "but would they believe me? Hardly, my good lad." " Hush, your Tghness, they are near hat 'and." The inmates of the garret could now plainly hear the scuffling steps of the men on the nearest roof as they slid and slipped on the inclines. " Where the h— 1 can he have gone ter ? " queried a piping voice, "That's the wine merchant's dark," announced Buster to the Prince. " Yes ? What did you say his name was ? " " Hi did n't s'y," replied the boy guardedly. m ^ 326 TOM MOORE 11^! Wales laughed pleasantly. '* You are a wise lad, " said he. " What are they doing now ? " " You 've got 'em puzzled, your 'Ighness. They his puttin' their bloomink 'cads together. Now they 're a 'untin' agin." " Xo trace of him here." " He came this way, I '11 swear." " Three he has put his mark on this night. Sweeny, Isaac, and Welch's Will." "Will?" " Aye, the lad with the bottle. He 's lying out on the eaves vet." Buster gave his guest an admiring look. Such prowess was deserving of all commendation. Wales caught the glance, and chuckled softly. W^hatever shortcomings might be laid at the door of the gentle- man destined to be the fourtll George, cowardice was not one of them. "Never mind, lads." said another voice. "He cawn't git away Tlie street is watched and all we have to do is to hunt him up." " We hain't a doin' hit. Hat least not has I sees." " Stop your croaking. Blount. D' ye think he could climb to that window ? " " Now for it," murmured Wales. " Xaw, 'ec hain't no bloomin' bird to fiy hup ten foot o' wall, his 'ee?" " Scatter, then. That way there, over to the right." In obedience to this inslruciioii the party were heard moving oil with uncertain steps and Buster turned away from the window with a sigh of relief. "Hi fawncies you're sift, yuui Majesty," said he. ll M —...11- Uj ^^:^i^^- av^fc^-fel. iM)^rji £'ge4» >Jfi REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 327 " Agreeable intelligence I must admit," sighed the Priixe, assuming an easier position. " My subjects possess the virtue of persistence." " Yessir, they dearly loves m club a swell cove hif they think 'ee his arfter their lydies." Steps sounded in the hallway and the Prince rose quietly to his feet, prepared to renew the struggle. " Don't be halarmed, your 'Ighness," said Buster, reassuringly. " Hit 's only Mr. Moore returning.'' " Do not acquaint him with my presence," said Wales. " I will make myself known when I think best." " Yes, your 'Ighness." The Prince stepped behind the curtain separating the poet's bedchamber from the sitting-room and there awaited developments in silence. Moore opened the door and ushered in Mr. Dyke. " I thought Bessie was here," he said in surprise as he noted her absence. " Mistress Dyke went down to hinterview Mrs. Malone, sir," explained Buster, in a quandary as to how he should act. .\ prince, of course, could not be lightly disobeyed, but at the same time he felt qualms at the thought of what his master, not suspecting the presence of royalty, might chance to say. Moore solved the problem for him unknowingly. " Then go down," said he to Buster, " and tell my future wife that her former father is here." Buster, relieved at the removal of responsibility, quickly left the room. Mr. Dyke looked around at tlie bare, unsij^'htly walls and sadly shook his head. ■ To think I should bring you to this, Thomas," he said, remorsefully. ir 328 TOM MOORE " Sit down, Mr Dyke, and have done with lamen- tations. So long as I do not complain, you surely have eason to find fault," said Moore, cheerily. No, Thomas, I feel I must confess the truth to tlie Prince." " What nonsense," said Moore, firmly. " No, no, Mr. Dyke, for you to confess that you wrote the poem satirizing his Highness would he the height of folly. I doubt if it would do me any good, and it certainly would completely ruin you." " I know," began (he old man, but Moore inter- rupted him. " I much prefer things as they are." he said. "' .\llow me to choose. Mr. Dyke." ■■ You do not know ;Ue pangs of conscience I have suffered." " More likely it was indigestion, sir." '* You took the blame for my folly. I went free, but your brilliant career was cut short." " Very short," admitted the poet, who was seated on the table, comfortably swingii^ his legs. " But the shortening is frequently the most important part of the dish." " Your rising star was plucked cruelly from the sky before reaching its zenith." " Between friends, you can emit the poetry," sug- gested Moore. " It seems like talking shop if I may say so without offence." " I see you are resolved," said the old man weakly. " Ah. yes," replied the poet, jumping off the table, and approaching his future father-in-law, he laid his hand kindly on the old man's shoulder. " It is all for the best, sir," In- uciu on with a sln- 42iA-^-;i^-_ REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR j*9 ccrity that was convincing. " I did not know. I was not sure, that your daughter loved me. She. bless her pretty head, was too full of life and laughter to read her own heart. My adversity has brought her to me with outstretched arms and a love more tender, more ifue, than even I dreamed it could be. No, no, sir. Keep your mouth shut to please mc." " It is really your wish that I do this ? " "Sure it is," replied Moore, satisfied that he had carried his point. " But the Prince. Tom ? " Moore's face saddened, hut he rid himself of his regret with a shrug of the shoulders. " Poor man," he said. - He thinks harshly of me, no drubt. Ah, well, perhaps it is better so, Mr. Dyke. And yet I "d be easier in my mind if he knew how I regard him. I have no feelings save those of friend- ship and gratitude in my heart for him but he '11 never know" " Yours is a generous soul, Thomas." " To-night I can say as truly and fondly as on that evening his favor -lucked me from poverty and failure, * God bless the Prince Regent.' " " It is needless to say I echo that sentiment, Mr. Moore." Moore turned with a low cry. The Prince had stepped noiselessly from behind the curtain to the centre of the room, and stood with a smile on his face, enjoying his involuntary host's surprise. ■' Your Highness," stammered Moore, for once thor- oughly abashed. "Your Highness!" "Aye. Wales him.self. Good evening, Mr. Dyke. It seems that I liave wronged you, Moore." 330 TOM MOORE ill " Your Highness heard ? " "Every word, gentlemen." " I am not sorry," said Mr. Dyke, softly. " Rut," said Moore, rallying from his astonishment, " how came your Highness here ? " The Prince's eyes twinkled, but his face was grave, almost solemn. " For that information, sir, I must refer you to your neighbor, one Mr. Sweeny." " Then you, sir, are the gay spark ? " " No doubt a spark, since I shall make light of my adventure, but in reality not so very gay." Bessie came hurrying along the hall and flinging open the door entered breathlessly. " Oh, Tom, Tom," she cried. " The hall below is full of men. They are searching for the strange gal- lant who won Jane .Sweeny from the grocer's son." The Prince took a pinch of snuff. " Egad ! " said he. " A remarkable achievement, it seems. I 'm beginning to be proud of it." " The Prince ! " exclaimed the girl in amazement. "An uninvited guest. Mistress Dyke," said his Highness, jovially. "And therefore doubly welcome, sir," returned Moore, at the door listening to the murmur that came from below. "Your Highness, they arc coming up I am afraid. They have traced you here." " Devilish awkward," muttered the Prince, looking around for a weapon ; " I shall have to fight. I fancy." " No, no," said Moore. " That is no way to get out of this mess. We would be beaten down in a moment." "Wer' :hl REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 331 " Aye, Sire, Mr. Dyke, you and I. I have a better scheme, if you will trust yourself to me." " I prefer you to our friends." " Then hide in the next room," said the poet, draw- ing back the curtain. " I '11 get them off your track or my name is not Tom Moore. Whatever you hear, don't stir out, your Highness." Buster entered in a rush. " Ho, sir," he panted, " the 'ole parcel hof 'em his a-coming hup ! " " Hush ! " said Moore. " This way. Sire." Wales obeyed his host's instructions and vanished in the adjoining room, his manner still cool and unruffled. " Buster, can you lose those rascals in a chase over the roofs ? " •* Hi can, sir," replied the boy valiantly. " Hi '11 give 'em such a run has they reads habout hin their primers." Moore tossed him an old hat and coat from the cupboard. *' The way is clear, lad," he said, peering out the window. " Out with you and when I whistle show yourself somewhere and then run like the devil. When you are tired, drop your hat and coat and you '11 be safe." " Drop nothing," said Buster. " Hi knows too much to be guilty hof hany such shocking waste as that." He hurried out of the window landing on the roof below as lightly as any cat, as the sound of the ap- proaching mob grew louder There was but little time to spare, and Moore wasted none of it. '* Bessie," he commanded, " lock the door brfiind us ^ I }*i II 33^ TOM MOORE when we ffo out in the hall. When I sing, you scream for help at the top of your voice. Then, whatever 1 say swear to like a darlin'. Come, Mr. Dyke." Moore grabbed the old gentleman by the arm and hurried him out in the hall as the first of Wales* pursuers set foot on the flight of stairs leading to the attic. " The Harp that once thro' Tara's halls The soul of music shed. Now hangs as mute on Tara s walls, As if that soul — " A woman's scream ring through the house. "Help! Help! Tom! Help!" " Bang! " went the locked door, kicked in by Moore, who rushed into the room with a yell, followed by Mr. Dyke. " Out of the way, darlin'," he whispered to Bessie. " I 've got to give myself an awful flaking." Immediately the poet began a struggle all over the room with an imaginary adversary. " You would, would you ? " he shouted at tlie top of his lungs. ' Then take that, you raparee ! And that, and that. Help! Mr. Dyke! My, but he is strong." He seized the table and upset it, then danced around the room like one possessed, dealing t' A-rific blows to the air. He clutched the contents of the cupboard and sent the china crashing in fragments on the floor. The chairs he beat up and down and back and forth against the walls. For all the world it sounded as though a mad bull were rushing around the room dealing de- struction on every side. Then he put his fist through two panes of glass and paused in his perfonnance. ^pi^^m REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 333 standing by the window with heaving chest as the mob led by Sweeny rushed into the attic. " Oh, friends," he cried between gasps, " you come too late." "Too late for what, Mr. Moore?" " To help me, you spalpeens. A big devil, six feet and a half high and a mile broad — I mean a mile high and six feet broad — Oh, a curst big lump of a lad — climbed into the window and laid violent hands on this lady, my future wife, who was here alone — " "The strange laddybuck," cried Sweeny. "The omadhaun we 're afther now." " He locked the door so I could n't get in and laid hold of her. Did n't he, Bessie? " The girl lied shamelessly. " And I screamed,*' she finished, glad to add a little truth to her falsehood. " I kicked in the door and grabbed the villain. Mr. Dyke and I both grappled with him, but he was too much for us and beat us down and leaped out on the roof." The crowd surged up to the window with a howl of rage, and Buster bobbed into view on a distant gable. " There he is now," cried Dabble, who was one of the mob. " Aye, aye, after him." Sweeny took command. "Yoii four. Dabble, Blount, Williams and Lake, out of the window and over the roofs again. The rest of us will guard every door in the neighborhood." The chosen four dropped from the window, and the crowd, Sweeny still in the lead, rushed out and down- 334 TOM MOORE stairs as frantically as they had come up, leaving the attic to Moore and his guests. The poet sat down on an upset chair and breathed a sigh of relief. " It 's a comedian I am," said he. " Bessie, how docs Drury Lane do without me?" "I don't know," said the girl. "I am sure I couldn't." " My. oh. my! " panted Moore. " but vou are learn- mg the right things to say at the right time very quickly, Bessie." The Prince emerged from his hiding-place. " Bravely done, Mr. Moore." said he. laughing a little. " Egad, I 'd not trade this evening for any other in my experience." "Xo?" asked Moore. "Not I. sir. You rid us of them verv neat I V." " For a while, your Highness. They i^ay return " " True." said Wales, " so we had best lose no time m getting help." " Your Hicrhness is right," said the poet, beginning to restore the room to something like its old appear- ance. " Father-in-law, run out and — - " ^^ "Let me arrange tliis,' interrupted the Prince "Mr. Dyke, if you will carry this ring to the house of S,r Perc.val Lovelace, you will find him at supper, lell him of my predicament and sav I bid him take such steps as he may deem best to extricate me from this misadventure without betraying my identity " Air. Dyke took the ring held out to him by the Prince. 1 11 make haste," he said, and toddled out and down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. Wales accepted il..c chair which Moore placed for REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 33 S " Sir," said he, " you have a talent for intrigue." " Ah, Sire," said Moore, ingenuously, " if it were not disrespectful, I would return the compliment. Your Highness must have passed an exciting evening." " Quite true, Mr. Moore, but I fancy I can do with- out such excitement in the future." " I rejoice to hear you say that, your Highness," said Moore, sincerely. "Indeed, Mr. Moore? And why so, if I may ask." " Because," said the poet so winningly that it was quite impossible for even a prince of the blood to take offence, "'The First Gentleman of Europe' is too proud a title to be lightly risked." Wales grew red and bit his lip. "I accept your reproof," he said. "It is not undeserved." " Not reproof, your Highness. Friendly advice, nothing more." " As you would have it, Mr. Moore," responded the Prince, wearily. Meanwhile Bessie had found the teapot to be one exception to the general ruin wrought of Moore's household utensils. " Would it please your Highness to have a cup of tea? " she asked, timidly. *' It will delight me much, Mistress Dyke. May I inquire when you intend to honor Mr. Moore by be- coming his wife? " Bessie flushed up prettily and looked at her lover. "The wedding would take place to-morrow if I could afford it," said Moore, righting the table and brushing it off with his coat-tail. 'i> MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 2.8 Ilia 140 1.4 1 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ /APPLIED IM/IGE Inc S^. 16S' Fast Mam Street Z'JS Rocte'->ter. New York 14609 USA '-^S (716) 482- 0300 - Phone ^^ (716) 288 - 5989 - Fox 3.36 TOM MOORE 'f ^-^-^ 'S, tl "Then I take it you cannot afford it?" said his Highness, " Not just at present," said Moore, cheerily. " I trust your health continues to be of the best, your Highness?" " I thank you, yes, but I have heard no such singing in my favorite drawing-rooms as when you were wont to frequent the haunts of the beau monde." " I have been out of town," said Moore, calmly, as Bessie brought the tea to the Prince in a cup which liad escaped the general smash-up. The Prince sipped its conter > in high good humor. " Delicious, Mistress Dyke," he declared, " your husband will be a fortunate individual." " There is but one grief which intrudes itself upon his happiness," said the girl, tremulously, " the dis- favor of the Prince, who in his darkest hour won from him both love and gratitude by his generosity." " Hush, Bessie," said Moore. " His Highness has enough to think of, dearest." " By the way, Moore," said Wales, languidly, " did I not hear some mention made of your name in con- nection with a political position in Bermuda ? " "You are right, your Highness" replied Moore, reluctantly, " there was some such mention made." The Prince looked thoughtful and drained his cup. " Bermuda," said he, " is a long way from England, Mr. Moore." A step sounded on the stairs at this moment, and Moore gladly rid himself of the embarrassment he felt by approaching the door to make certain it was no undesirable personage who was now approaching. REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 337 "Lord Brooking!" he cried. "What good luck brings you back ? " " I soon wearied of the theatricals and was out for a stroll when by chance I encountered Mr. Dyke on his way to Sir Percival's," explained the young noble- man entering. *' It is needless to say, your Highness, I made haste to join you here." " But," said Wales, " did the good citizens not stop you on your way ? " " For a moment or two, your Highness, but I con- vinced them of my entire harmlessness and was allowed to pass." " Is Mr. Moore at home? " demanded a hoarse voice, strongly flavored with Scotch dialect, from the hall below. " McDermot," exclaimed Moore. " What can the old vagabond want with me to-night ? " " If I am not mistaken, Tom, this is the old blood- sucker who is to be your future publisher ? " said Lord Brooking. " For life," responded Moore. " You remember I told you of our bargain not two hours ago. Yes, I am in, Mr. McDermot." " Well then I '11 coom up," announced the publisher. Moore was about to advise him not to when a ges- ture from Lord Brooking led him to desist. " Pardon me, your Highness," said Lord Brooking, **but for certain reasons I deem it better that this gentleman should not recognize you when he first comes in." " I '11 look at the view, then," said the Regent, pleasantly. By the time Wales had reached the window, wisely 338 TOM MOORE Will-; choosing the one which opened upon the street, for there still came sounds of distant chase from the roofs, McDermot was knocking on the door. "Come in," called Moore. The old Scotchman entered in a great rage. " So I ha' caught ye at last ? " he shouted at sight of the poet. " Have it your own way, sir." " Six times ha' I called here, sair, ye trickster, ye cheat." " Hold on now," said Moore, in sudden anger, " you are an old man, but more than enough of such talk is a great deal too much." Bessie laid a restraining hand on Moore's arm. " Perhaps, Mr. McDermot, you will be kind enough to state your grievance," she said, quietly. " It 's aboot the contract," sputtered the irate publisher. "Isn't that all right?" asked Moore, wonderingly. " I signed it." " Of coorse ye did, ye trickster, but ye did not tell me when ye called to do so that the evening before ye had been shamefully ejected from Sir Percival's house by order o' the Prince of Wales." " Surely that was Sir Percival's business." replied Moore. " He may have been proud of the affair ; I was n't." "Ye should ha' told me," repeated McDermot, doggedly. " But I did n't know you were so interested in my goings and comings." " You took my thou^ md poonds." " Was that wrong?" asked Moore. REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 339 "Wrong?" echoed the publisher. "D'ye think I 'd give ye ten shillings for ye skin ? " " See here," cried Moore, his anger again getting the better of him, " my skin is not for sale, but, if you value yours, you had better keep a civil tongue in your head, you old Rob Roy." Lord Brooking stepped forward between the two angry men. " Am I right in believing that you arc dissatisfied with your bargain, Mr. McDermot?" said he in a soothing tone. "Dissatisfied? Dissatisfied! Why, at the present time Mr. Moore is the very worst investment in the literary market." Brooking waved Moore back with an admonishing gesture. "Then I take it you would be glad to cancel the agreement ? " he continued. " But my thousand poonds ? " " I will advance Moore the money to repay you. Of course it is a risk, but for the sake of old times I will assume the obligation. Do you need other security than my word ? " " Not I," said McDermot, gladly. " There is your contract, Mr. Moore." As he spoke he took the paper from his pocket and tore it into fragments. These he carefully deposited on the table and turned to go. " One moment, Mr. McDermot," said an imperious voice. The Prince came forward with an air of chilling dignity. " You have made the greatest mistake of your life, wr:^vmm 340 TOM MOORE I, sir," he continued, addressing the astounded publisher. " This I will show you if you listen. Mr. Moore, you and your fiancee have been litt'e seen of late in the world of fashion. Pray alter this, my dear fellow. Furthermore you may as well abandon all idea of holding office in Bermuda save by deputy. It is im- possible for the Poet Laureate of England to reside at such a distance from Carlton House." "Sir!" cried Moore, unable to believe his ears. " Poet Laureate ? " " (^ne Thomas Moore, not unknown to the literary world, an Irishman of some wit and fancy. Mr. McDer.not, we need detain you no longer." Crestfallen, the old Scotchman crept from the room as Moore turned to Bessie almost too happy to speak "You heard?" She nodded her head, her eyes filling with happy tears. There was a clatter in the street and a closed car- riage drew up in front of Mrs. Malone's. Following it came a dozen hussars, riding gaily, as though in hope of a skirmish. Sir Pcrcival Lovelace and Mr. Dyke alighted and hurried upstairs, while Sweeny and his adherents contemplated the soldiers from the safety of distance in melancholy grandeur. " I have been waiting for you, Sir Perciva.," said the Prince. " Yet I made all possible haste," said Sir Percival, bowing low to Bessie. " By good luck, Farquar of the Tenth Hussars was dining with me. A word to him brought me a dozen stout lads, and with them for escort I hurried here." "Will Farquar keep a still tongue?" inquired Wales, more anxious than he appeared. REGAINS ROYAL FAVOR 341 " Trust him for that, your Highness," replied Sir Percival, confidently. " I think I will have to, Lovelace," observed the Prince, dryly. " Mr. Moore, I have only to thank you for your kindly hospitality. I shall expect you at Carl- ton House in the mrirning. Mistress Dyke, Ton is indeed a lucky man. As for you, Mr. Dyke, I only await your promise not to repeat the offence to over- look the error into which you fell some weeks ago. Good night, my friends— Stay! I would not leave your clever lad unrewarded. Give him this and tell him if he ever sees fit to quit your service he will not find Wales ungrateful." As he spoke, the Prince took the ring which Sir Percival held out to him. Handing it to Moore, he turned and bowed himself out, followed by the baronet. " Capital," said Lord Brooking, joyfully. " I knew you 'd not languish in disfavor long, Tom. Ask Mis- tress Bessie to name the day." Moore stepped to his sweetheart's side. "When will you become my wife, dearest?" he asked, love sounding in his voice and gleaming in his eyes. "I will marry you to-morrow," she whispered softly, her arms around his neck.