f
battle. There Mary, trusting in Elizabeth's recent professions of
friendship, took the fatal resolution of throwing herself upon the
compassion and protection of the English queen. As she approached the
boundary, her resolution faltered; the coming evils seemed to cast
their shadows before; but those which awaited her, if she remained,
were certain, and she crossed the small stream which formed the
parting line.

Mary was at this time in her twenty-sixth year; in the very prime of
existence, in the full bloom of beauty and health, when a dark pall
was spread over her life. Thenceforward her history presents one
painful picture of monotonous suffering on the one hand, and of
meanness, treachery, and cruelty, on the other. With relentless
cruelty, her rival kept her in perpetual bonds; the only changes were
from prison to prison, and from one harsh keeper to another; from the
gleam of delusive hope to the blackness of succeeding disappointment.

As soon as she entered England, Mary addressed a letter to Elizabeth,
in which she painted in glowing colors the wrongs she had endured, and
implored the sympathy and assistance of her "good sister." A generous
and magnanimous sovereign would not have hesitated as to the answer to
be made to such an appeal. But Elizabeth deliberated; she consulted
her counsel; the object of long years of hatred was in her power; one
whose very existence was an outrage upon her personal vanity; her
malicious feelings of envy and jealousy got the mastery, and Mary's
detention as a prisoner was resolved on. Still, however, a show of
decency was to be preserved. Noblemen of suitable rank were sent to
receive her, carrying with them letters from their sovereign filled
with prostituted expressions of condolence and sympathy. At the same
time, orders were given that Mary should not be allowed to leave the
kingdom. To Mary's demand of a formal interview, Elizabeth replied,
that the honor must, with whatever reluctance, be denied to her, lest
the imputation under which she labored of being accessory to the
murder of Darnley should bring a stain upon her own reputation; but
that, whenever she should clear herself of this, she should receive
assistance commensurate with her distress, and a reception suitable to
her dignity. By this pretence was Mary entangled in a treacherous
snare. Confiding in her professions of friendship, she agreed to
submit her cause to Elizabeth, and to produce to her such proofs