“I hope you’ll get a presentable head,” Sir Hugh said, “The stags themselves are not in very good condition yet; but the horns are all right—­the velvet’s off.”

“It doesn’t much matter,” Lionel made answer, contentedly.  “I know beforehand I am going to miss.  Well, good-bye, for the present!  Go ahead, Maggie!”

But at the same moment there was a glimmer of a gray dress in the twilight of the hall; and the next moment Honnor Cunyngham appeared on the doorstep, the morning light shining on her smiling face.

“Mr. Moore,” she said, coming forward without any kind of embarrassment, “there’s an old custom—­didn’t my brother tell you?—­you must take a little gift from some one in the house, just as you are going away, for good luck.  You haven’t yet?  Here it is, then.”

“It is exceedingly kind of you,” said he; “and I wish I could make the omen come true; but I have no such hope.  I know I am going to miss.”

“You are going to kill a stag!” said she, confidently.  “That is what you are going to do.  Well, good-bye, and good-luck!”

So the little party of three—­Lionel, Roderick, and the attendant gillie—­straightway left the lodge and began to make for the head of the strath.  And it was not altogether about deer that Lionel was now thinking.  The tiny, thin packet he held in his hand seemed to burn there.  What was it Honnor Cunyngham had brought down-stairs for him?  However trivial it might be, surely it was something he could keep.  She had given it to him for good luck; but her wishes were not confined to this one day?  Then, when he had got some distance from the house, so that his curiosity could not be observed, he threw the reins on Maggie’s neck, and proceeded to open this small packet covered with white paper.  What did he find there?—­why-only a sixpence—­a bright new sixpence—­not to be compared in value with the dozens on dozens of presents which were lavished upon him by his fair admirers in London—­courteous little attentions which, it must be confessed, he had grown to regard with a somewhat callous indifference.  Only a small, bright coin this was; and yet he carefully wrapped up the precious talisman again in its bit of tissue paper; and as carefully he put it away in a waistcoat pocket, where it would be safe, even among the rough-and-tumble experiences that lay before him.  The day seemed all the happier, all the more hopeful, that he knew this little token of friendly sympathy was in his possession.  Ought not a lucky sixpence to have a hole bored in it?  He could wear it in secret, even if she might not care to see it hanging at his watch-chain? and who could tell what subtle influence it might not bring to bear on his fortunes, wholly apart from the stalking of stags?  He grew quite cheerful; he forgot his nervousness; he was talking gayly to the somewhat taciturn Roderick, who, nevertheless, no doubt much preferred to find his pupil in this confident mood.