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.
Adieu, my Lucy.
LETTER XXXIV
MISS BYRON, TO SIR ROWLAND MEREDITH
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19.
It was with great pleasure that I received, this day, the kindest Letter
that ever was written by a real father to his dearest child. I was
resolved that I would not go to rest till I had acknowledged the favour.
How sweet is the name of father to a young person who, out of near
one-and-twenty years of life, has for more than half the time been
bereaved of hers; and who was also one of the best of men!
You gave me an additional pleasure in causing this remembrance of your
promised paternal goodness to be given me by Mr. Fowler in person. Till
I knew you and him, I had no father, no brother.
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