“What an unusual type!” she said, to her father. “Do look, papa! She is actually exquisite!” And being introduced to her, her frank, bright eyes became brighter than ever. She was one of those lovable, trusting young creatures, who are ready to fall in love with pleasant people or objects on the shortest notice; and she was captivated at once by Lisbeth’s friendly air. Her age and Lisbeth’s were about the same, but by nature and experience they were very wide apart, Miss Crespigny being very much the older and more worldly-wise of the two. If it had come to a matter of combat between them, Miss Georgie would have had no chance whatever. CHAPTER V. GEORGIE ESMOND. It suited Lisbeth to be charming this morning, and she was really very agreeable indeed. She knew enough of art to appear to advantage among pictures, and she had, withal, a certain demure and modest way of admitting her ignorance, which was by no means unattractive. She was bright, amiable, and, as it seemed, in the best of spirits. She made friends with Miss Georgie, and delighted Colonel Esmond; she propitiated Miss Estabrook, and rendered that inflammable elderly beau, her brother, supremely happy by her friendly condescension; she treated Anstruthers as if there had been no other event in their two lives but this one morning and this one nice little party. She made the luncheon even more entertaining than such small feasts usually were; in short, she was Lisbeth Crespigny at her best, her spiciest, and in her most engaging mood. “Oh!” said that open-hearted Georgie, when she shook hands with her as they parted--“Oh, I have enjoyed myself so much! I am so glad to have met you. I hope we shall see each other again. Please ask me to call, Mrs. Despard,” laughing prettily. “I should like it so much. I do so hate to lose people whom I like.” “Does that mean that you are so good as to like me a little?” said Lisbeth, in her sweetest tone, wondering, at the same time, how on earth the girl could have lived so long, and yet have retained that innocent, believing air and impulsive way. “I hope it does.” Georgie quite blushed with innocent fervor. “Indeed it does,” she answered. “I should not say it, if it did not. And I am sure that, if I see you more, I shall like you better and better. It is so delightful to meet somebody one is sure one can be fond of.” It was an odd thing, but as Lisbeth looked at her for a moment, she positively felt that she blushed faintly herself, blushed with a sense of being a trifle ashamed of Lisbeth Crespigny. It would be dreadful to have such a girl as this find her out; see her just as she was; read her record just as the past had left it. She was half inclined to put such a thing beyond the pale of possibility by drawing back. “I want mamma to know you,” said Georgie. “Mamma is so fond of clever people, that it makes me wish, often enough, that I was not such an ordinary sort of girl.”