Twice he had written, but no answer came to his letters.

Then he gave up writing, for Leonard was a proud man; moreover he guessed that she did not reply because she could not.

As he had said to his brother, Jane might be dead by now, or more probably married to Mr.Cohen.And yet once they had loved each other, and to this hour he still loved her, or thought that he did.

At least, through all the weary years of exile, labour, and unceasing search after the unattainable, her image and memory had been with him, a distant dream of sweetness, peace, and beauty, and they were with him yet, though nothing of her remained to him except the parting gift of her prayer-book and the lock of hair within it.

The wilderness is not a place where men can forget their earliest love.