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.