Lionel cared less now; heat and food had thawed him into a passive frame
of mind; he was tired, worn out, and sleepy; and very glad was he when
he was allowed to go to bed.
As a matter of fact, that magic one-horned stag was not found on the
next day; no, nor any following day; nor has it ever been heard of since
in those parts. And if it vanished from the earth through some evil
enchantment, be sure that Lionel--who had picked up some of the
superstitions of the neighborhood, and who had profited on a former
occasion by the possession of a lucky sixpence--be sure he attributed
his cruel ill-fortune, solely and wholly, to that wretched red rag that
had been given him by Miss Georgie Lestrange.
CHAPTER XII.
A GLOBE OF GOLD-FISH.
What, then, was the secret charm and fascination exercised over him by
this extremely independent, not to say unapproachable, fisher-maiden;
why should he be so anxious to win her approval; why should he desire to
be continually with her--even when all her attention was given to her
salmon-line, and she apparently taking no notice of him whatever? She
was handsome, no doubt, and fine-featured and pleasant to look upon; she
was good-humored, and friendly in her own way; and she had the education
and manners and tact and gentleness of one of her birth and breeding;
but there were lots of other women similarly graced and gifted who were
only too eager to welcome him and pet him and make much of him, and
towards whom he found himself absolutely indifferent.
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