He was the god in the machine; no more.

No single opportunity of thanking him did he afford her.

He effaced himself that she might not see the sorrow she occasioned him, lest it should increase her own.
For two years she dwelt at Maligny in such peace as the broken-hearted may know, the little of life that was left her irradiated by Everard's noble friendship.

He wrote to her from time to time, now from Italy, now from Holland.

But he never came to visit her.