Page:Paul Clifford Vol 3.djvu/225

CHAPTER X.

O Fortuna, viris invida fortibus

Quam non æqua bonis præmia dividis.

Seneca.

****** And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,
Pants to the place from whence at first he flew. ****** Here, to the houseless child of want,

My door is open still.

Goldsmith.

Slowly, for Lucy, waned the weeks of a winter, which, to her, was the most dreary portion of life she had ever passed. It became the time for the Judge to attend one of those periodical visitations so fraught with dread and dismay to the miserable inmates of the dark abodes which the complex