lizabeth, in many instances, had good cause for her attitude toward
Mary's friends, since plots were hatching thick and fast to liberate Mary
from Lochleven; and many such plots, undoubtedly, had for their chief end
the deposition of Elizabeth, and the enthronement of Mary as Queen of
England.

As a strict matter of law, Mary was rightful heir to the English throne,
and Elizabeth was an usurper. Parliament, at Henry's request, had declared
that Elizabeth, his issue by Anne Boleyn, was illegitimate, and that being
true, Mary was next in line of descent. The Catholics of England took that
stand, and Mary's beauty and powers of fascination had won for her friends
even in the personal household of the Virgin Queen. Small cause for wonder
was it that Elizabeth, knowing all these facts, looked with suspicion and
fear upon Mary's refugee friends.

The English queen well knew that Sir George Vernon was her friend,
therefore his house and his friendship were my sanctuary, without which
my days certainly would have been numbered in the land of Elizabeth, and
their number would have been small. I was dependent on Sir George not only
for a roof to shelter me, but for my very life. I speak of these things
that you may know some of the many imperative reasons why I desired to
please and conciliate my cousin. In addition to those reasons, I soon grew
to love Sir George, not only because of his kindness to me, but because he
was a lovable man. He was generous, just, and frank, and although at times
he was violent almost to the point of temporary madness, his heart was
usually gentle, and was as easily touched by kindness as it was quickly
moved to cruelty by injury, fancied or actual. I have never known a more
cruel, tender man than he. You will see him in each of his natures before
you have finished this history. But you must judge him only after you have
considered his times, which were forty years ago, his surroundings, and
his blood.

During those two months remarkable changes occurred within the walls of
Haddon, chief of which were in myself, and, alas! in Dorothy.

My pilgrimage to Haddon, as you already know, had been made for the
purpose of marrying my fair cousin; for I did not, at the time I left
Scotland, suppose I should need Sir George's protection against Elizabeth.
When I met Dorothy at Rowsley, my desire to marry her became personal, in
addition to the mercenary motives with which I had originally started. But
I quic