Madison University Dec 8th/49 -My Dear Friend Caroline,
Once more permit me to intrude upon your attention. I have for some time had it in mind to write you, but it has not before been consistent; and now that so much time has elapsed since I last wrote you, you will perhaps the now [sic] kindly bear with my intrusion.
A secret letter just received from Martha informs me that you feel quite contented and happy; but are almost entirely dependent for company upon books and the letters of friends. If it be in my power to make an evening pass more pleasantly with you, I shall be richly repaid for penning a long letter. I know not with what feelings you will peruse my thoughts, but I know that the kindest feelings give them expression; and should I say aught that bears the tinge of advice or reproof, be not displeased, but make a like return and I will be grateful to you. If our friendship must henceforth be somewhat different, let it not be less profitable or sincere than formerly. Of how inestimable value is the element of genuine sincerity in all our intercourse as feeling, hoping, confiding, and immortal beings! Would that we might always bear in mind what we are as we associate with and influence each other. - -
When I wrote you from New Haven, I believe I promised not to trouble you again on the same subject; but to a few thoughts expressed in your very kind and frank reply, I feel constrained to respond. Pardon me therefore for aluding [sic] to the subject again. Caroline, as not entire confidence an essential element in, at least the highest friendship? Should one expect anything less from his chosen and dearest friend? and may not one expect very much confidence from a friend who is almost a brother or sister? I am not about to enter a complaint against you on this score. I have no complaint to make. You have ever treated me with all the kindness and confidence that a brother could ask.
But after reading your letter carefully and rereading it, I folded it with a sad heart and with one distinct impression: viz. that at times you had far too cautiously concealed your feelings. Doubtless with the noblest design you have, I fear, at times shut out the sympathy and tenderest affection of those who loved you. Pardon me for my plainness. I speak not chidingly, but in grief. I am extremely sensible to that I occupy a very delicate position. I would not assume the position of arbiter between my superiors; nor would I intentionally be partial in my feelings towards a dear brother on the one hand, or one who has long been dear as a sister on the other. Could I, however, harmonize the course of each with the principles of perfect justice and sincerity, it would please me best; for I must still love both.
But to return. If L. wrote letters that contained no word of tenderness, it was wrong. If he unnecessarily neglected to write, that also was wrong. If, when he last visited you, he coldly offered back the heart he had won, it was cruel. But if (as I must believe) your feelings all along were as you represent them, I can conceive of nothing 'womanly' that required their concealment. And had they not been concealed, no "wide breach" would have occurred. It can now never be made less; but I prefer to feel that nature, rather than a brother's errors, caused it.
L's nature could never brook from his chosen friend any lack of a manifest and hearty devotion. Are not you naturally inclined to a stern self restraint that might very easily cause doubt of the existence of such devotion in your heart. I do not blame you for it, but, my dear friend, I know that it has occasional much pain to Lucian and to Martha. M. during our delightful visit in August, could scarcely speak without tears of some apparent reserve on your part. Had you freely admitted her to your inner heart and told her all your sorrows and cares, you would have made her both a better friend and more happy. She would think me but half a friend, did I conceal well my sad and anxious thoughts. I think I most truly regard her happiness by laying open all my heart; and I have no "manliness" that forbids me to acknowledge how truly my soul lives by its union with hers. Why should you have concealed from L. your feelings towards him?
But I have said enough. I charge fault upon neither you nor him - rather I think your natural inclinations not exactly similar. What has occurred is perhaps best; though it has pained me much. -
Martha has learned from L., not from me, the facts concerning himself and you. I designed to say nothing to L. about my correspondence with you; but you having spoken of it to him, I had either to show him your letter or flatly refuse. The former seemed to me the less evil. I have as yet said nothing to Martha of your letter; but since she knows from you that I have received one, I wish you would relieve me from the restraint that you have imposed. Never am I willing to promise concealment from her. -
Now, Caroline, do justice to my intentions in writing this letter. It has been done chiefly that you may know how Lucian is no less than ever a very dear brother, and you a very dear friend. If I have in any way wronged you, forgive me. If I have ever done you the least kindness, be assured I would now more gladly do a greater. If I have not in any way forfeited your regard, let me enjoy it still; if I have tell me, that I may explain all. Henceforth let us indeed seek a higher friendship than earth affords; yet let us not lightly neglect the blessings that Heaven holds out to us here. - -
Time passes quite pleasantly with me this winter. My health is good, and my studies pleasant. I suppose Martha writes you the news from Ohio better than I can. I received a letter from home lately. The folks are well - no particular news. Also a letter from bro. Brooks came to hand not long since. He wishes to be kindly remembered to "sister Williams." He is much blessed in his labors in Ill. I have not seen Lucian for several weeks - design to visit him soon -
Are you pleasantly situated? Have you an agreeable school? Do you think of returning to Ohio next summer? We left there to gather you know; and I think I shall have been "from home" long enough by next August. There is something peculiarly pleasing in the thought of returning home. How much that word imports! How glorious will be that day when all the redeemed arrive at their eternal home! Ere long the clouds of earth shall break away; all our sorrows, cease; our imperfections be healed; and with Christ, their elder brother, the redeemed shall walk the golden streets of the New Jerusalem. There shall we see as we cannot now, that a divine Hand has led us by "a way we knew not."
Let me hear from you soon, and believe me,
Ever Yours Affectionately
Luke Osborn