CHAPTER XLIV.
RELATING HOW, IN THE WATCHES OF THE NIGHT, A VISION CAME TO STURK, AND
HIS EYES WERE OPENED.
Sturk's triumph was only momentary. He was in ferocious spirits, indeed,
over the breakfast-table, and bolted quantities of buttered toast and
eggs, swallowed cups of tea, one after the other, almost at a single
gulp, all the time gabbling with a truculent volubility, and every now
and then a thump, which made his spoon jingle in his saucer, and poor,
little Mrs. Sturk start, and whisper, 'Oh, my dear!' But after he had
done defying and paying off the whole world, and showing his wife, and
half convincing himself, that he was the cleverest and finest fellow
alive, a letter was handed to him, which reminded him, in a dry, short
way, of those most formidable and imminent dangers that rose up,
apparently insurmountable before him; and he retired to his study to
ruminate again, and chew the cud of bitter fancy, and to write letters
and tear them to pieces, and, finally, as was his wont, after hospital
hours, to ride into Dublin, to bore his attorney with barren inventions
and hopeless schemes of extrication.
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