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. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror. She was mentally transported for an instant to the old castle in Herculis. "How?" cried her brother, starting.
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