Readily did Ellen Raymond enter into the scheme she at last proposed, which was to write to Theodore, and give the letter into her charge.  It was promptly conveyed to the post-office.  Theodore was directed to address Ellen, and in the envelope to enclose a letter for Constance.  On the third day, the young ladies took a walk, and in their way called at the post-office.  A letter was handed out to Ellen, and on breaking the seal, another appeared addressed to Constance.  She did not dare to open it in the street, but retired to a confectioner’s, and while Ellen was tasting an ice-cream, Constance was devouring, with eager eyes, the first love-token she had ever received from Theodore Wilmer.

This was the beginning of a correspondence which was regularly kept up through the summer, of all of which both father and mother remained profoundly ignorant.  They were delighted to see their daughter so soon recover from the first deep depression of spirits which was occasioned by their sudden removal from New York, but little suspected the cause.  Less and less carefully did the mother watch her daughter, and more frequently were the two young friends alone in their chambers, even for hours together.  Such times were not spent idly by Constance.  Thus the very means—­separation—­resorted to by Mr. Jackson and his wife, to wean the mind of their daughter from the “low-born” Wilmer, only proved, from not having been thoroughly carried out, that which bound them together in heart for ever.  Give two lovers, pen, ink, and paper, and their love will defy time and distance.  The thousand expressed fond regards, and weariness of absence, endear each to each; and imagination, from affection, invests each with new and undiscovered perfections.  Three months had passed away since the hasty journey from New York, and supposing Constance to be thoroughly weaned from her foolish preference for a poor clerk, for she was now cheerful, and expressed no wish to return—­the parents proposed to go back to the city.  Preparation was accordingly made, and in a few days Constance found herself, with a yearning desire to get home again, gliding swiftly along the smooth surface of the Hudson.  She had not failed to inform Theodore of her return, and as the boat swept up to the wharf, her quick eye caught his eager face bending over towards her.  A glance of glad, and yet painful recognition passed between them, and in the next moment he had disappeared in the living mass of human beings.  For some time she was closely watched; but she carefully lulled suspicion, and at last succeeded in managing to get short and stolen interviews with Wilmer.  Their first meeting was at a young friend’s, to whom she had confided her secret:  this was not Laura Wykoff, for her mother had managed to fall out with her family, so as to have a good plea for denying to Constance the privilege of visiting her.  Regularly did the lovers meet, about once every week, at this friend’s; and, encouraged by her, they finally took the hazardous and decisive step of getting married clandestinely.