Matters went on thus for about three months, during which Mrs. Garrison shared in the solicitude which Caroline’s parents felt on her account—although, in seeing her droop, she could only guess at the cause. She corresponded with Mr. Cleaveland, but he never mentioned Caroline—and she could only venture upon what might seem an accidental reference to her, and allusion to her poor health and spirits. At the end of three months she received from him the following letter:—
My dear Mrs. Garrison—Your very great kindness, and your most generous sympathy so constantly manifested towards me, induces me to lay before you a matter that very nearly concerns me, for the purpose of obtaining your advice in circumstances of great delicacy and perplexity.
I think it could not have altogether escaped your observation, that, as would probably have befallen most other young men in like circumstances, I lost my heart to your fair young friend, my pupil. Nor was I a despairing lover—may my presumption be pardoned, in believing that I occasionally discovered through the veil of her most delicate and maidenly reserve, a certain tremulousness of feeling which that veil could not entirely disguise—an occasional agitation of manner on her part, from which I derived the flattering conclusion that it was sometimes given to me to touch “the electric chain with which she’s darkly bound.”
But I waited until one relation with her should be at an end before attempting to establish another; and just as I was on the point of declaring myself, her mother, suspecting my intention, interfered to prevent its fulfilment—saying, as nearly as I can remember, that such an union would fall far below her wishes and hopes for her daughter.
I do indeed feel that I am not worthy of such a treasure as Caroline Rutherford. But I suppose it would be doing Mrs. Rutherford no injustice to believe that my most striking deficiency in her eyes, would be made up at once, were I to come into possession of a fortune.
I am very wretched—and it is possible that I am not alone in my wretchedness. It does not seem fitting that the destiny of two human beings capable of acting and choosing for themselves, should be controlled by idiosyncrasies of a third person. It does not seem fitting that if we are capable of loving and making each other happy, we should be separated by such a paltry wall of partition. I have a strong impression, too, that Mr. Rutherford would favor my suit. And yet, what can I do? How am I to break the fetters that Mrs. R. has thrown around me? Give me your counsel, I pray you, and add one more to the many obligations which you have already heaped upon.
Your very grateful and affectionate friend,
Charles Cleaveland.
Mrs. Garrison was not long in deciding what to do. Her great kindness to Caroline, and the services which she had rendered her, entitled her to act in whatever concerned her welfare. Having provided herself with a store of arguments to overcome all objections, and set the matter in its true light, she determined to appeal directly to Mrs. Rutherford herself. To her surprise and joy, she found her most thankful to avail herself of the opportunity to retract her injunction. Her home once so pleasant, had become so cheerless, and her husband so estranged—to say nothing of Caroline—that in the exigencies of the present, she forgot all her visions for the future.
Of course Mrs. Garrison lost no time in communicating the result to her friend; and Mrs. Rutherford was no less eager to inform her husband of what had happened.