yet no mission of literary realism had been
imposed upon him, and when his passions were still soothed by natural
hope. The memory of his friend Reardon was strongly present with him,
but of Amy he thought only as of that star which had just come into his
vision above the edge of dark foliage--beautiful, but infinitely remote.

Recalling Reardon's voice, it brought to him those last words whispered
by his dying companion. He remembered them now:

We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded
with a sleep.

CHAPTER XXXVI. JASPER'S DELICATE CASE

Only when he received Miss Rupert's amiably-worded refusal to become his
wife was Jasper aware how firmly he had counted on her accepting him. He
told Dora with sincerity that his proposal was a piece of foolishness;
so far from having any regard for Miss Rupert, he felt towards her with
something of antipathy, and at the same time he was conscious of ardent
emotions, if not love, for another woman who would be no bad match even
from the commercial point of view. Yet so strong was the effect upon him
of contemplating a large fortune, that, in despite of reason and desire,
he lived in eager expectation of the word which should make him rich.
And for several hours after his disappointment he could not overcome the
impression of calamity.

A part of that impression was due to the engagement which he must now
fulfil. He had pledged his word to ask Marian to marry him without
further delay. To shuffle out of this duty would make him too ignoble
even in his own eyes. Its discharge meant, as he had expressed it, that
he was 'doomed'; he would deliberately be committing the very error
always so flagrant to him in the case of other men who had crippled
themselves by early marriage with a penniless woman. But events had
enmeshed him; circumstances had proved fatal. Because, in his salad
days, he dallied with a girl who had indeed many charms, step by step
he had come to the necessity of sacrificing his prospects to that raw
attachment. And, to make it more irritating, this happened just when the
way began to be much clearer before him.

Unable to think of work, he left the house and wandered gloomily about
Regent's Park. For the first time in his recollection the confidence
which was wont to inspirit him gave way to an attack of sullen
discontent. He felt himself ill-used by destiny, and therefore by
Marian, who was fate's instrument. It was not in his n