His study just now was of the early Italians, in art and literature.  There was more of Adela than he perceived in the impulse which guided him in that direction.  When he came to read the ‘Vita Nuova,’ it was of Adela expressly that he thought.  The poet’s passion of worship entered his heart; transferring his present feeling to his earlier self, he grew to regard his recent madness as a lapse from the true love of his life.  He persuaded himself that he had loved Adela in a far more serious way than any of the others who from time to time had been her rivals, and that the love was now returning to him, strengthened and exalted.  He began to write sonnets in Dante’s manner, striving to body forth in words the new piety which illumined his life.  Whereas love had been to him of late a glorification of the senses, he now cleansed himself from what he deemed impurity and adored in mere ecstasy of the spirit.  Adela soon became rather a symbol than a living woman; he identified her with the ends to which his life darkly aspired, and all but convinced himself that memory and imagination would henceforth suffice to him.

In the autumn he went down to Agworth, and spent a few days with his mother.  The temptation to walk over to Wanley and call upon the Walthams proved too strong to be resisted.  His rejection at their door was rather a shock than a surprise; it had never occurred to him that the old friendly relations had been in any way disturbed; he explained Mrs. Waltham’s behaviour by supposing that his silence had offended her, and perhaps his failure to take leave of her before quitting Wanley.  Possibly she thought he had dealt lightly with Adela.  Offence on purely moral grounds did not even suggest itself.

He returned to London anxious and unhappy.  The glimpse of Adela sitting at the window had brought him back to reality; after all it was no abstraction that had become the constant companion of his solitude; his love was far more real for that moment’s vision of the golden head, and had a very real power of afflicting him with melancholy.  He faltered in his studies, and once again had lost the motive to exertion.  Then came the letter from his mother, telling of Adela’s rumoured engagement.  It caused him to set forth almost immediately.

The alternation of moods exhibited in his conversation with Mr. Wyvern continued to agitate him during the night.  Now it seemed impossible to approach Adela in any way; now he was prepared to defy every consideration in order to save her and secure his own happiness.  Then, after dwelling for awhile on the difficulties of his position, he tried to convince himself that once again he had been led astray after beauty and goodness which existed only in his imagination, that in losing Adela he only dismissed one more illusion.  Such comfort was unsubstantial; he was, in truth, consumed in wretchedness at the thought that she once might easily have been his, and that he had passed her by.  What matter whether we love a reality or a dream, if the love drive us to frenzy?  Yet how could he renew his relations with her?  Even if no actual engagement bound her, she must be prejudiced against him by stories which would make it seem an insult if he addressed her.  And if the engagement really existed, what shadow of excuse had he for troubling her with his love?