But he ever
preserved a tender remembrance of Miss Chaworth, only forgetting the
wrong she had done him.[93]

Lord Byron's conduct had been no less generous toward Mr. Musters, his
triumphant rival in the affections of Miss Chaworth. Mr. Musters, though
several years older than Lord Byron, was, nevertheless, among his early
companions. The parents of this young man resided at their country-seat,
called Colwich, a few miles distant from Newstead, and Lord Byron often
accepted their hospitality. One day the two youths were bathing in the
Trent (a river which runs through the grounds of Colwich), when Mr.
Musters perceived a ring among Lord Byron's clothes, left on the bank.
To see and take possession of it was the affair of a moment. He had
recognized it as having belonged to Miss Chaworth. Lord Byron claimed
it, but Musters would not restore the ring. High words were exchanged.
On returning to the house, Musters jumped on a horse and galloped off
to ask an explanation from Miss Chaworth, who, being forced to confess
that Lord Byron wore the ring with her consent, felt obliged to make
amends to Musters by promising to declare immediately her engagement
with him. Proud of his success, he returned home and acquainted Lord
Byron with Miss Chaworth's determination. Dinner was announced. The
family sat down, and soon perceived there was something amiss between
the two friends, whose gloomy silence spoke more eloquently than words.
Before the end of dinner Lord Byron left the table, unable to endure the
provocations of his rival.

The parents of Musters, though completely ignorant of what had caused
the quarrel, were uneasy for the consequences. After dinner bitter words
were again exchanged between the two young men, and Musters used such
coarse, insolent language that Lord Byron could ill restrain his
indignation. Anger flashing from his eyes expressed itself as warmly in
words. In this frame of mind he retired to his room, and remained long
shut up there, while Musters believed he was preparing to leave Colwich
that very night. But the magnanimous youth, on reflection, understood
that at fifteen he ought not to pretend to carry off the fair prize of
seventeen from a man nine years his senior; and that it was not generous
to grieve his hosts and hurt the reputation of the lady he loved.
Accordingly, he suppressed his sorrow, his pride, his anger. Instead of
returning to Newstead, he made his appearance as usual in the
drawi