"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 mine, so, if the time came when she would require a strong 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 d.y.k.e _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.

Circ.u.mstances 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?"

"Yes, 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.

"Did Bessie give you my address?"

"Not she," replied his lordship. "I 've not had the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with Mistress d.y.k.e."

"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 lady's success," observed the young n.o.bleman. "That of her father in the world of letters would have seemed to me problematical had I not your a.s.surance 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 a.s.sembled 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 you other poems, Mr. Moore?"

"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 ma.n.u.scripts which he dropped carelessly in front of his guest.

"A few, sir," he remarked grimly.

"But why are they not published?" demanded Lord Brooking, scanning various poems through his eyegla.s.ses. "They seem of uniform excellence."

"They are refused because I have no patron in the world of fashion to accept 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 'll do better than that," interrupted Brooking. "I 'll 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. Fortunately Mrs. FitzHerbert, who still enjoys his Highness's favor, is mightily at odds with Sir Percival. Moreover, she was greatly pleased with the Rose poem you favored her with. I 'll get her to exert her influence 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 any effort I may make in your behalf. If the Prince permits me to dedicate your book to him the publishers will fight for the privilege of printing it and your fortune is made, Tom Moore."

"But we have quarrelled," said Moore, hopelessly.

"Capital!" cried his lordship. "No woman tiffs with a man to whom she is indifferent. It is the s.e.x's sweet perversity. Then, again, Tom Moore famous, for you 'll never be more than 'Tom' if success is yours--the public loves a familiar diminutive, sir--will be a different Moore from Thomas Moore unknown."

"Ah, sir, you put new courage in my heart," said Moore, catching the young n.o.bleman's infectious enthusiasm.

"I 'll 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 'll 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."

His lordship dropped the coins upon the table as Moore looked up at him, grat.i.tude dumbing his tongue for the moment.

"Finish the verses at your leisure," continued Brooking. "I am in no hurry for them."

"G.o.d bless you, sir," stammered Moore, finding speech at last. "You have brought new life and hope to me this day. I 'll never forget your generosity."

"Tut, tut," said his lordship, 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 'll do my best," replied the poet, smiling more cheerfully than in days.

"My hat and cloak, boy," said Brooking. "I 'll 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 'll 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 'll 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.