"It was in her uncle's house, then, that my mother met my father?" "There, Madam. Sir Edward took her to England, for they married in January, 1687, while King James yet reigned; and Sir Edward was great with the King, and had a fine land there. Her son, your brother, Madam, that is Sir Edward now, was born in London, in the summer of 1688." "Patient, what kind of man was my father?" "He was a very noble-looking gentleman, Madam, tall, with dark eyes and hair." "Yes, but I mean in his mind and character?" "Well, Madam," answered Patient, rather doubtfully, "he was much like other men. He had good points and bad points. He was a kindly gentleman, and open-handed. He was not an angel." "You scarce liked him, I think, Patient." "I ought not to say so, Madam. He was alway a good and kind master to me. Truly, he was not the man I should have chosen for Miss Magdalene; but I seldom see folks choose as I should in their places. Yet that is little marvel, since, fifteen years gone, Patient Leslie made a choice that Patient Irvine would be little like to make now." Patient's dry, sarcastic tone warned Celia that she had better turn the conversation. "And where was I born, Patient?" "Well, Madam, you know what happened that summer your brother was born. He that was called Prince of Wales was born in the same month;[5] and in October King James fled away, sending his wife Queen Mary[6] and the babe to France. When King William landed, it was expected that he would seize all belonging to the malignants;[7] this was not so entirely, yet so much that Sir Edward was sore afeared to lose his. He kept marvellous quiet for a time, trusting that such as were then in power would maybe not think of him. But when King James landed in Ireland, he was constrained to join him, but he left my Lady behind, and me with her, at his own house in Cheshire. After the battle of Boyne Water,[8] whereat he fought, it happed as he feared, for all his property was escheated to the Crown. At this time Mr. Francis Grey came back into the country, and for a time Sir Edward and my Lady abode with him at a house which he had near the Border, on the English side: but Sir Edward by his work on the Boyne had made the place too hot for to hold him, and he bethought himself of escaping after King James to France. So about March, 1691, we began to journey slowly all down England from the Border to the south sea. Sir Edward was mortal afeared of being known and seized, so that he would not go near any place where he could possibly be known: and having no acquaintance anywhere in the parts of Devon, made him fix upon Plymouth whence to sail. It was in the last of May that we left Exeter. We had journeyed but a little thence, when I saw that my Lady, who had been ailing for some time, was like to fall sick unto death. I told Sir Edward that methought she was more sick than he guessed, but I think he counted my words but idle clavers and foolish fancies.