J. D. Beresford

“ He went down the hill, alone. All the ascending glory had gone, and the crowd that jostled him by the Bridge was of the same clay as himself. He was going back steadfastly into his past; to take up his promotion and to marry Dorothy, who would never know that he had been unfaithful to her. This was the world of reality in which there was no place for a man with a transcendental destiny. And yet, it might be. ... He had always been so sure. He was confused, now; the fog had returned, denser and more obscuring than ever; but could anything rob him of that ancient certainty? ”

“ When that transcending certainty overcame him, his vision flowered in many shapes. He knew such diverse aspects of the saviour. But when he was thirty-two, he felt that his time of probation, his gathering of experience, must be nearly done; and then, in desperation, in fear of promotion and Dorothy, he sought to hasten the miracle that he knew would presently overtake him. Literature was the nearest means to his hand. ”

“ By unnoticed degrees, he abandoned his attempts to write, and the fog of his material life began to thicken so that his vision of certainty, when it returned, shone less gloriously, and was coloured with the sadder hues of a nearer, attainable ambition. He had heard, privately, that his promotion was assured at the end of the year. Three new branches were to be opened, and one of them would almost certainly be given to him—a mark of particular favour, Mr. Curtis had said. Adrian had won the esteem and respect of his superiors. ”