I + 

“Good morning, Miss Lovill!” said the young man, in the free manner usual with him toward pretty and inexperienced country girls. + 

Agatha Pollin⁠—the maiden addressed⁠—instantly perceived how the mistake had arisen. Miss Lovill was the owner of a blue autumn wrapper, exceptionally gay for a village; and Agatha, in a spirit of emulation rather than originality, had purchased a similarly enviable article for herself, which she wore today for the first time. It may be mentioned that the two young women had ridden together from their homes to Maiden-Newton on this foggy September morning, Agatha prolonging her journey thence to Weymouth by train, and leaving her acquaintance at the former place. The remark was made to her on Weymouth esplanade. + 

Agatha was now about to reply very naturally, “I am not Miss Lovill,” and she went so far as to turn up her face to him for the purpose, when he added, “I’ve been hoping to meet you. I have heard of your⁠—well, I must say it⁠—beauty, long ago, though I only came to Beaminster yesterday.” + 

Agatha bowed⁠—her contradiction hung back⁠—and they walked slowly along the esplanade together without speaking another word after the above point-blank remark of his. It was evident that her new friend could never have seen either herself or Miss Lovill except from a distance. + 

And Agatha trembled as well as bowed. This Miss Lovill⁠—Frances Lovill⁠—was of great and long renown as the beauty of Cloton village, near Beaminster. She was five and twenty and fully developed, while Agatha was only the niece of the miller of the same place, just nineteen, and of no repute as yet for comeliness, though she undoubtedly could boast of much. Now, were the speaker, Oswald Winwood, to be told that he had not lighted upon the true Helen, he would instantly apologise for his mistake and leave her side; contingency of no great matter but for one curious emotional circumstance⁠—Agatha had already lost her heart to him. Only in secret had she acquired this interest in Winwood⁠—by hearing much report of his talent and by watching him several times from a window; but she loved none the less in that she had discovered that Miss Lovill’s desire to meet and talk with the same intellectual luminary was in a fair way of approaching the intensity of her own. We are never unbiased appraisers, even in love, and rivalry usually operates as a stimulant to esteem even while it is acting as an obstacle to opportunity. So it had been with Agatha in her talk to Miss Lovill that morning concerning Oswald Winwood. + 

The Weymouth season was almost at an end, and but few loungers were to be seen on the parades, particularly at this early hour. Agatha looked over the iridescent sea, from which the veil of mist was slowly rising, at the white cliffs on the left, now just beginning to gleam in a weak sunlight, at the one solitary yacht in the midst, and still delayed her explanation. Her companion went on: + 

“The mist is vanishing, look, and I think it will be fine, after all. Shall you stay in Weymouth the whole day?” + 

“No. I am going to Portland by the twelve o’clock steamboat. But I return here again at six to go home by the seven o’clock train.” + 

“I go to Maiden Newton by the same train, and then to Beaminster by the carrier.” + 

“So do I.” + 

“Not, I suppose, to walk from Beaminster to Cloton at that time in the evening?” + 

“I shall be met by somebody⁠—but it is only a mile, you know.” + 

That is how it all began; the continuation it is not necessary to detail at length. Both being somewhat young and impulsive, social forms were not scrupulously attended to. She discovered him to be on board the steamer as it ploughed the emerald waves of Weymouth Bay, although he had wished her a formal goodbye at the pier. He had altered his mind, he said, and thought that he would come to Portland, too. They returned by the same boat, walked the velvet sands till the train started, and entered a carriage together. + 

All this time, in the midst of her happiness, Agatha’s conscience was sombre with guiltiness at not having yet told him of his mistake. It was true that he had not more than once or twice called her by Miss Lovill’s name since the first greeting in the morning; but he certainly was still under the impression that she was Frances Lovill. Yet she perceived that though he had been led to her by another’s name, it was her own proper person that he was so rapidly getting to love, and Agatha’s feminine insight suggested blissfully to her that the face belonging to the name would after this encounter have no power to drag him away from the face of the day’s romance. + 

They reached Maiden-Newton at dusk, and went to the inn door, where stood the old-fashioned hooded van which was to take them to Beaminster. It was on the point of starting, and when they had mounted in front the old man at once drove up the long hill leading out of the village. + 

“This has been a charming experience to me, Miss Lovill,” Oswald said, as they sat side by side. “Accidental meetings have a way of making themselves pleasant when contrived ones quite fail to do it.” + 

It was absolutely necessary to confess this time, though all her bliss were at once destroyed. + 

“I am not really Miss Lovill!” she faltered. + 

“What! not the young lady⁠—and are you really not Frances Lovill?” he exclaimed, in surprise. + 

“O forgive me, Mr. Winwood! I have wanted so to tell you of your mistake; indeed I have, all day⁠—but I couldn’t⁠—and it is so wicked and wrong of me! I am only poor Agatha Pollin, at the mill.” + 

“But why couldn’t you tell me?” + 

“Because I was afraid that if I did you would go away from me and not care for me any more, and I l-l-love you so dearly!” + 

The carrier being on foot beside the horse, the van being so dark, and Oswald’s feelings being rather warm, he could not for his life avoid kissing her there and then. + 

“Well,” he said, “it doesn’t matter; you are yourself anyhow. It is you I like, and nobody else in the world⁠—not the name. But, you know, I was really looking for Miss Lovill this morning. I saw the back of her head yesterday, and I have often heard how very good-looking she is. Ah! suppose you had been she. I wonder⁠—” + 

He did not complete the sentence. The driver mounted again, touched the horse with the whip, and they jogged on. + 

“You forgive me?” she said. + 

“Entirely⁠—absolutely⁠—the reason justified everything. How strange that you should have been caring deeply for me, and I ignorant of it all the time!” + 

They descended into Beaminster and alighted, Oswald handing her down. They had not moved from the spot when another female figure also alighted, dropped her fare into the carrier’s hand, and glided away. + 

“Who is that?” said Oswald to the carrier. “Why, I thought we were the only passengers!” + 

“What?” said the carrier, who was rather stupid. + 

“Who is that woman?” + 

“Miss Lovill, of Cloton. She altered her mind about staying at Beaminster, and is come home again.” + 

“Oh!” said Agatha, almost sinking to the earth. “She has heard it all. What shall I do, what shall I do?” + 

“Never mind it a bit,” said Oswald. + 