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Updated: June 5, 2025
He leaned on the mantelpiece. I could see he was very much affected. So was I. "Her relatives surely they ought to be sent for?" "She has none. Doctor Brown said she once told him so: none nearer than the Brithwoods of the Mythe and we know what the Brithwoods are." A young gentleman and his young wife proverbially the gayest, proudest, most light-hearted of all our country families.
Brithwood of the Mythe House, and another gentleman. They both pulled hard they got out of the mid-stream, but not close enough to land; and already there was but two oars' length between them and the "boar." "Swim for it!" I heard one cry to the other: but swimming would not have saved them. "Hold there!" shouted John at the top of his voice; "throw that rope out and I will pull you in!"
Why, my dear, we furnish entertainment for our whole establishment, my husband and I. We are at the Mythe what the Prince Regent and the Princess of Wales are to the country at large. We divide our people between us; I fascinate he bribes. Ha! ha! Well done, Richard Brithwood! I may come home 'when and how I like! Truly, I'll use that kind permission."
He did it nay, insisted upon doing it the day after he came of age, and just one week after they had been betrothed this nineteenth of June, one thousand eight hundred and one. We reached the iron gate of the Mythe House; John hesitated a minute, and then pulled the bell with a resolute hand. "Do you remember the last time we stood here, John? I do, well!"
Heaven lay flat on Earth, all was dark, somebody kicked Heaven up, the already existing light came in. Here is no creation de la lumiere. I ask Professor Tiele, 'Do you, sir, create light when you open your window- shutters in the morning? No, you let light in! The Maori tale is also 'un mythe primitif de l'aurore, a primitive dawn myth. Dawn, again! Here I lose Professor Tiele.
Some of them, too, were clever enough to discover, what a pleasant and altogether "visitable" lady was Mrs. Halifax, daughter of the late Mr. March, a governor in the West Indies, and cousin of Mr. Brithwood of the Mythe. But Mrs. Halifax, with quiet tenacity, altogether declined being visited as anything but Mrs. Halifax, wife of John Halifax, tanner, or mill-owner, or whatever he might be.
Halifax, my daughter encouraged me to pay this impromptu visit." Here ensued polite inquiries after Lady Caroline Brithwood; we learned that she was just returned from abroad, and was entertaining, at the Mythe House, her father and brother. "Pardon I was forgetting my son Lord Ravenel." The youth thus presented merely bowed.
"And promise, too, that under all circumstances you will tell me, as you did this morning, the 'plain truth'? Yes, I see you will. Good-bye." The iron gates closed upon her, and against us. We took our silent way up to the Mythe to our favourite stile. There we leaned still in silence, for many minutes. "The wind is keen, Phineas; you must be cold."
The Mythe was a little hill on the outskirts of the town, breezy and fresh, where Squire Brithwood had built himself a fine house ten years ago. "Ay, that will do; and as we go, you will see the floods out a wonderful sight, isn't it? The river is rising still, I hear; at the tan-yard they are busy making a dam against it. How high are the floods here, generally, Phineas?"
Sir Ralph Oldtower, who was sheriff, sat at a table, with his son, the grave-looking young man who had been with him in the carriage; near them were Mr. Brithwood of the Mythe, and the Earl of Luxmore. The room was pretty well filled with farmers' labourers and the like.
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