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Updated: June 17, 2025
French Fleet, General d'Amade, General Braithwaite, Admiral Wemyss, Captain Pollen, Myself. De Robeck greeted me in the friendliest fashion. He is a fine looking man with great charm of manner. After a word or two to d'Amade and being introduced to Wemyss, Guépratte and Keyes, we sat down round a table and the Admiral began.
His forgiveness was brushed aside. Time was pressing. Tabs forced him to the point without further ceremony or waste of words. "When you phoned yesterday evening it was nearly midnight, so the matter must have seemed urgent. You said that General Braithwaite had been to see you on a fool's errand, with a story that partly concerned myself. May I ask how it concerned me?"
"So this is what you are doing," observed Her Royal Highness to Hedwig. "In this this undignified manner you spend your time!" "It is very innocent fun, mother." For that matter, there was nothing very dignified in the scene that followed. The Archduchess dismissed the governess and the Crown Prince, quite as if he had been an ordinary child, and naughty at that. Miss Braithwaite looked truculent.
It was quickly known to all that a stranger, a most unusual stranger, had come with a warning so quickly justified, and when they saw him they found that the report was true. But Henry took no apparent notice. He found Major Braithwaite standing near the southern side of the palisade. "Well, what do you think of us?" asked the Major, smiling rather wanly.
Lord Braithwaite might or might not know it already; but at all events it was his duty to tell him, or to take his leave, having thus far neither gained nor sought anything from their connection which would tend to forward his pursuit should he decide to undertake it.
Bullen, Schelling, Rhys, Braithwaite, and other modern collectors of the Elizabethan lyric have ravaged these volumes and many more, and have shown how the imported Italian pastoral tallied with the English idyllic mood, how the study of prosody yielded rich and various stanzaic effects, how the diffusion of the passion for song through all classes of the community gave a marvelous singing quality to otherwise thin and mere "dildido" lines.
"Looks as if she was a rich young lady. Her people must be anxious about her." Someone laughed a little, softly. "Oh, yes, she's a rich enough young lady, Mrs. Braithwaite. Don't you know who it is we've rescued?" "I, sir? No. How should I?" "Then I'll tell you. This is Mademoiselle Wielitzska, the famous dancer." "Never, sir! Well, I do declare " "Now, drink this at once, please."
I may be strong enough in a week or two, but I promised Braithwaite not to be rash for Edith's sake. Well, good-bye, Mother, if you must go. She kissed him, left a box of soldiers for Archie and murmured to Edith 'What an angel Bruce is! So patient and brave. Perfectly well, of course. He has been for a week. He'll go on thinking himself ill for a year the dear pet, the image of his father!
"How long has it been since the boy Henry Ware left us?" asked Major Braithwaite. "A week to-day," replied the scout. "And the fleet has not yet come," said the Major, as much to himself as to the others. "I've always believed until to-night that it would come. That boy inspired confidence. I had to believe in him. I had no choice." "Nor I, either," said Gregory Wilmot.
In civilian clothes he bore a more distinct resemblance to the man he had been; and yet the resemblance only served to emphasize the change that had taken place in him. The old Braithwaite had been a slight-built, gentle creature, loyal to the point of self-effacement, soft-spoken and dependent on the appreciation of a master for his happiness.
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