It banked inoffensively dry.

She had forgiven her lord, owning the real nobleman he was in courtesy to women, whom his inherited ideas of them so quaintly minimized and reduced to pretty insect or tricky reptile.
They, too, had the choice of being ultimately the one or the other in fact; the latter most likely.
If, however, she had forgiven her lord, the shattering of their union was the cost of forgiveness.

In letting him stand high, as the lofty man she had originally worshipped, she separated herself from him, to feel that the humble she was of a different element, as a running water at a mountain's base.

They are one in the landscape; they are far from one in reality.

Aminta's pride of being chafed at the yoke of marriage.
Her aunt was directed to prepare for a start at an early hour the next morning.