Part 63 (1/2)
”Since we are such confidential friends, I will tell you a profound secret. I prefer street cars to omnibuses, and would much rather ride in one than in a carriage that I could not pay for.”
”Well, now, that's sensible.”
”Yes, quite matter-of-fact. Where are you going, Mr. Morton?”
”Wherever you wish--even to Columbus.”
”What! run away from your work and duty? Where is your conscience?”
”Where my heart is.”
”Oh, both are in Columbus. I should think it inconvenient to have them so far off.”
I tried to look in her eyes, but she turned them away.
”I can prove that my conscience was in Columbus; I consulted you on every question I discussed in the paper.”
”Nonsense! you never wrote me a line.”
”I was enjoined not to in a way that made my blood run cold. But I thought Mrs. Vining's opinions might be influenced by a member of her family, and I never wrote a line unmindful of that influence.”
Again her laugh rang out. ”I should call the place where you wrote the Circ.u.mlocution Office. Well, to keep up your way of doing things, that member of the family read most critically all you wrote.”
”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.”