"Egad," he drawled, "have you been reading your own poetry, Mr. Moore?"
Bessie laughed merrily as Moore tasted the bitterness 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 singing that I am more than eager to listen to one of your ballads. Mr. Dyke and our friend Farrell join me in the request."
"But, my lord," objected Moore, casting an inquiring glance towards where Sir Percival was talking glibly to the little schoolmistress, "I--er--really I 'm not in voice to-day."
"Nonsense!" said his lordship. "We will not be denied, Mr. Moore."
"Then since I 'm not Saint Peter, I 'll have to yield. What shall it be?"
A short discussion followed at the organ, and when this had been settled by Dyke and Farrell choosing "The Shamrock," Moore, calmly paying no attention to such a detail as that, proceeded to sing his latest poem, written only that morning in honor of Sir Percival.
Nothing could have been more to the point, 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 for 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 Eveleen's bower
The Lord of the Valley with false vows came;
The moon hid 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 the clouds shall pass away,
Which that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame.
"The white snow lay
On the narrow pathway
When the Lord of the Valley crost over 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;
But 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.