Were sweetly worth them all."
Chapter Twenty-Two
TOM MOORE RECEIVES A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE
The morning after his enforced but by no means inglorious departure from Sir Percival's house, Mr. Thomas Moore met his disgruntled 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 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 endeavor 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. Sheridan 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 affair," 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 poet's disgrace and exile, but, as he kept these suspicions to himself, by the world in general Tom Moore was considered 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 occupancy of the shabby attic from which the Prince's kindness had a few months before rescued him.
"No," said Moore, determinedly, to his landlady. "I 'm out of favor now and I 'll be saving of my 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 unknown 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 removal, Moore, after signing his contract with McDermot, 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.
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