little time remembered
the famous academy in Martin's-row, and looking at her watch, took her
leave in a prodigious hurry, and followed by Dominick, in full livery,
and two dogs, left Lilias again to the society of her own sad thoughts.

CHAPTER XLII.

IN WHICH DR. STURK TRIES THIS WAY AND THAT FOR A REPRIEVE ON THE EVE OF
EXECUTION.

So time crept on, and the day arrived when Sturk must pay his rent, or
take the ugly consequences. The day before he spent in Dublin
financiering. It was galling and barren work. He had to ask favours of
fellows whom he hated, and to stand their refusals, and pretend to
believe their lying excuses, and appear to make quite light of it,
though every failure stunned him like a blow of a bludgeon, and as he
strutted jauntily off with a bilious smirk, he was well nigh at his
wits' end. It was dark as he rode out by the low road to
Chapelizod--crest-fallen, beaten--scowling in the darkness through his
horse's ears along the straight black line of road, and wishing, as he
passed the famous Dog-house, that he might be stopped and plundered, and
thus furnished with a decent excuse for his penniless condition, and a
plea in which all the world would sympathise for a short
indulgence--and, faith! he did not much care if they sent a bullet
through his harassed brain. But the highwaymen, like the bankers, seemed
to know, by instinct, that he had not a guinea, and declined to give him
even the miserable help he coveted.

When he got home he sent down for Cluffe to the Phoenix, and got him
to take Nutter, who was there also, aside, and ask him for a little
time, or to take part of the rent. Though the latter would not have
helped him much; for he could not make out ten pounds just then, were it
to save his life. But Nutter only said--

'The rent's not mine; I can't give it or lose it; and Sturk's not safe.
Will _you_ lend it? _I_ can't.'

This brought Cluffe to reason. He had opened the business, like a jolly
companion, in a generous, full-blooded way.

'Well, by Jove, Nutter, I can't blame you; for you see, between
ourselves, I'm afraid 'tis as you say. We of the Royal Irish have done,
under the rose, you know, all we can; and I'm sorry the poor devil has
run himself into a scrape; but hang it, we must have a conscience; and
if you think there's a risk of losing it, why I don't see that I can
press you.

The reader must not suppose when Cluffe said, 'we of the Royal Irish,'
in conne