The girl's eyes hung to the passing chariot, without movement of her head.

It was Aminta who looked back, and she saw the girl looking away.

Among the superior dames and damsels she had seen, there was not one to match that figure for stately air, gallant ease, and splendour of pose.

Matthew Weyburn would have admired the girl.

Aminta did better than envy, she cast off the last vestiges of her bitter ambition to be a fine lady, and winged into the bosom of the girl, and not shyly said 'yes' to Matthew Weyburn, and to herself, deep in herself: 'A maid has no need to be shy.' Hardly blushing, she walks on into the new life beside him, and hears him say: 'I in my way, you in yours; we are equals, the stronger for being equals,' and she quite agrees, and she gives him the fuller heart for his not requiring her to be absorbed--she is the braver mate for him.
Does not that read his meaning?
Happiest of the girls of earth, she has divined it at once, from never having had the bitter ambition to be a slave, that she might wear rich tissues; and let herself be fettered, that she might loll in idleness; lose a soul to win a title; escape commonplace to discover it ghastlier under cloth of gold, and the animal crowned, adored, fattened, utterly served, in the class called by consent of human society the Upper.
Reason whispered a reminder of facts to her.
'But I am not the Countess of Ormont!' she said.