"How could you tell my work from that of others?"
"Oh, I could tell every line from your hand as if spoken to me."
"Well, fair critic?"
"Never compliment a critic. It makes them more severe."
"I could do so much better if you were in New York."
"What! Do you expect me to go into the newspaper business?"
"You are in it now—you are guiding me. You are the inspiration of my best work, and you know it."
We had now reached a point where the lane wound through a hemlock grove. My hope was glad and strong, but I resolved at once to remove all shadow of fear, and I shrank from further probation. Therefore I stopped decisively, and said in a voice that faltered not a little:
"Emily, our light words are but ripples that cover depths which in my case reach down through life and beyond it. You are my fate. I knew it the day I first met you. I know it now with absolute conviction."
She turned a little away from me and trembled.