In the meantime, however, she made herself very agreeable and attractive to her hostesses, and enjoyed Pen’yllan very much, in a girlish way. She explored the tiny village, and the rude shore. She made friends with fishermen, and their wives, and sturdy children. She won admiration on every side by her pretty interest in everything appertaining to the Pen’yllanites. She took long walks on the sands, and brought home shells, and sea-weed, and pebbles, with such honest delight in any trifling rarity, as made Lisbeth look on and feel restless, and the Misses Tregarthyn grow young again, unitedly. “I wish, my dear,” said Miss Clarissa to Lisbeth, “that you enjoyed yourself as much; but--but I am afraid you do not. I am afraid you find Pen’yllan rather dull.” “I never found Pen’yllan so pleasant in my life before, but you know I am not like Georgie,” said Lisbeth. “Pen’yllan is all right, Aunt Clarissa, and I enjoy myself here more than I should anywhere else.” “I am glad to hear you say that, my love,” Miss Clarissa faltered. “Sometimes, do you know, I have really fancied that you were not quite--quite happy?” Lisbeth got up from her chair, and came to the window, her incomprehensible eyes reaching far out to sea. “Happy!” she echoed, absently. “Is anybody happy? What a conundrum to answer? As for me, I give it up.” She gave up a good many things during these weeks at Pen’yllan. She was wont to be fond of a certain cool class of metaphysics, but somehow things of that order seemed to slip from her grasp. She was not so sure of her self as she had been--not so obstinately complacent. Indeed, she had never been so ill-satisfied and out of patience with Lisbeth Crespigny in her life. In the course of a week or so, Hector Anstruthers came, as he had promised. One quiet afternoon, Miss Millicent, who was sitting at the window, looked out into the garden, with a sudden expression of surprise. “Sister Clarissa!” she exclaimed, “Miss Esmond, there is a gentleman coming up the walk; a young gentleman, and really a very handsome one. Do either of you know him? Dear me, his face seems very familiar. It can’t be----” Georgie ran to the window, and the next minute was waving her kind little hand to the individual in question, and smiling, and nodding her head. “You ought to know him, Miss Tregarthyn,” she said. “It is Mr. Hector Anstruthers.” “Oh!” broke forth Miss Clarissa, in some distress. “And Lisbeth is here! I do hope, sister Millicent----” “He saw Lisbeth very often when she was at home,” explained Georgie, feeling very guilty, and extremely fearful of committing herself. “I know Lisbeth did not like him very well at first, but he was one of Mrs. Despard’s favorites, and--he is a sort of cousin of mine.”