A native of Manchester, he was the son of Kenelm Kneebone, a staunch Catholic, and a sergeant of dragoons, who lost his legs and his life while fighting for James the Second at the battle of the Boyne, and who had little to bequeath his son except his laurels and his loyalty to the house of Stuart. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts.
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