United States or New Caledonia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"At least this is my privilege," he insisted, "unless there be another previous engagement of which I am ignorant." "Oh, no," and she rested her hands on the green sleeve, smiling from his face into mine. "We were waiting for you to come. Good-night, Lieutenant Fortesque." They had taken a step or two, when Grant halted, holding her arm tightly as he glanced back to where I stood.
While I shall leave the city to-morrow so as to give Clinton a fair field, I shall remain on Lord Howe's flag-ship for some little time previous to final departure for New York. You had better mess here with my staff. Mabry," turning to the aide, "see that Lieutenant Fortesque has breakfast, and procure him a pass good indefinitely within our lines.
Believe me, Florence, that Fortesque, infidel as he is, would reverence a woman with whom he dared not trifle on sacred subjects." Florence rose from her seat with a heightened color, her dark eyes brightening through tears. "I am sure what you say is just, cousin, and yet I have never thought of it before.
My companion, observing my interest attracted in that direction, reined up his horse to explain. "Those are the galleys being made ready for the Mischianza, Fortesque," he said, waving his hand. "You came to us at a lucky hour." "The Mischianza?" I asked, puzzled by the strange term. "Some festival, you mean? some gala day?" "'Tis an Italian word, they tell me, signifying medley.
Early this evening our pickets or rather some partisan scouts near Newtown captured a British officer, in field uniform, on his way from New York to Sir William Howe in Philadelphia. The prisoner was brought here, and on examination proved to be Lieutenant Edgar Fortesque of the 42nd Regiment of Foot. These troops came over with the last detachment, and arrived in New York less than a month ago.
"Gracious! who are they?" returned Jennie Albert. "I never heard of them, I'm sure," and she seemed to speak quite naturally for a moment. "Oh, my dear!" murmured Nan. "Haven't you seen them at all? Why, they told me at the studio " "I know! I know!" exclaimed Bess, suddenly. "Jennie doesn't know their right names. Nan means Lola Montague and Marie Fortesque."
John Fortesque. The great auditorium was a bower of smilax and chrysanthemums, bewildering, amazing, superb in its verdant labyrinth. As the clock was striking the hour, the ten-thousand-dollar pipe-organ filled the edifice with strains of most seductive, entrancing music, played by Miss Jane Brown, the only real left-handed organist in the civilised world.
Instantly they blazed with excitement, although I noticed he took a sudden step backward in the first shock of surprise, his hand dropping to the butt of a pistol in his belt. "By all the gods!" he exclaimed sharply. "If it isn't the spy! I miss the red jacket, but I know the face, Mister Lieutenant Fortesque." "Major Lawrence, if you please," I returned quietly. "We'll not quarrel over the name.
I could see the dim outline of heads peering over, but was not discovered. The same gruff voice which had interrupted the duel broke through the noise: "I tell you he turned to the left; I saw him plainly enough. What did you say the fellow's name was, Grant?" "How do I know? He called himself Fortesque." "Sure; the same one Carter was sent out hunting after.
How she really felt toward Nan, the latter did not know; nor did this uncertainty bother her much. Now that her father's trouble with Mr. Ravell Bulson was cleared up, Nan did not worry over anything but the seemingly total disappearance of the runaways, Sallie and Celia or, as they preferred to be known, Lola Montague and Marie Fortesque. Mr.
Word Of The Day