Her true friend, loving father, and obedient servant,
Rowland Meredith.

Love and service to Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, and all friends who inquire
      after me.  Farewell.  God bless you!  Amen.

***

Have you, could you, Lucy, read this letter with dry eyes?  Generous, worthy, honest men!  I read but half way before Mr. Fowler—­Glad I was, that I read no further.  I should not have been able to have kept his uncle’s secret, if I had; had it been but to disclaim the acceptance of the generous purpose.  The carrying it into effect would exceedingly distress me, besides the pain the demise of the honest man would give me; and the more, as I bespoke the fatherly relation from him myself.  If such a thing were to be, Sir Charles Grandison’s generosity to the Danbys should be my example.

Do you know, Mr. Fowler, said I, the contents of the letter you have put into my hand?

No farther than that my uncle told me, it contained professions of fatherly love; and with wishes only—­But without so much as expressing his hopes.

Sir Rowland is a good man, said I:  I have not read above half his letter.  There seems to be too much of the father in it, for me to read further, before my brother.  God bless my brother Fowler, and reward the fatherly love of Sir Rowland to his daughter Byron!  I must write to him.

Mr. Fowler, poor man! profoundly sighed; bowed; with such a look of respectful acquiescence—­Bless me, my dear, how am I to be distressed on all sides! by good men too; as Sir Charles could say by good women.

Is there nothing less than giving myself to either, that I can do to shew Mr. Orme and Mr. Fowler my true value for them?

Poor Mr. Fowler!—­Indeed he looks to be, as Sir Rowland hints, not well.  —­Such a modest, such a humble, such a silent lover!—­He cost me tears at parting:  I could not hide them.  He heaped praises and blessings upon me, and hurried away at last, to hide his emotion, with a sentence unfinished.—­God preserve you, dear and worthy sir! was all I could try to say.  The last words stuck in my throat, till he was out of hearing; and then I prayed for blessings upon him and his uncle:  and repeated them, with fresh tears, on reading the rest of the affecting letter.

Mr. Fowler told Mr. Reeves, before I saw him, that he is to go to Caermarthen for the benefit of his native air, in a week.  He let him know where he lodged in town.  He had been riding for his health and diversion about the country, ever since his uncle went; and has not been yet at Caermarthen.

I wish Mr. Fowler had once, if but once, called me sister:  it would have been such a kind acquiescence, as would have given me some little pleasure on recollection.  Methinks I don’t know how to have done writing of Sir Rowland and Mr. Fowler.

I sat down, however, while the uncle and nephew filled my thoughts, and wrote to the former.  I have enclosed the copy of my letter.