” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. 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. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. ” Ann Veronica meditated over that phrase. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it.
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