Sept. 18, 1911.
My dear Nancy,
I’ve been intending to write to you for a long time now to invite you and Lettie to come and stay with us. But this new house which I have just built has taken longer to get ready than I expected. It’s situated in very pretty country about fifteen miles from Brigham, and my architect has made a really beautiful miniature castle which everybody admires. I presented dear old Lebanon House to the Borough of Brigham to be used as an up-to-date lunatic asylum which was badly required in the district.
Trixie and I do so very much hope that you and Lettie will come and stay with us and spend a quiet time before the wedding takes place, of which by the way we have read. You haven’t met Trixie yet, and it’s always such a disappointment to her. But I’m sure you’ll understand what a mess we’ve been in with building. I want you to meet Norman too. Do you know, he’s fifteen. Doesn’t time fly? He’s at Rossall, and I’ve made up my mind to give him the chance his father never had and let him go to the University.
Are you interested in gardening? Trixie is a great gardener and spends all her time with her roses. Now, I think I’ve given you most of our news, and we are waiting anxiously to hear you are going to give us the pleasure of your visit. Poor Aunt Achsah and Aunt Thyrza are both dead. I would have sent you a notice of the funerals if I had known your address.
With every good wish for your happiness and for the happiness of dear little Lettie,
Your affectionate brother-in-law,
Caleb Fuller.
To this Nancy sent back a postcard:
Hell is paved with good intentions, Caleb!
It is tempting to prolong this with an account of Letizia’s wedding and to relate what Mrs. Pottage wore at it and what she said when Lord Darlington kissed her good-bye, before he and Letizia set out on their honeymoon. It is tempting to dwell on the wit and the beauty of Letizia Darlington and still more tempting to enlarge upon her happiness. But she and her husband belong too much to the present to be written about and this tale of over eighty years is already too long. Yet, one more letter must be printed.