hich were very lamentable
to behold."

This sad story is crowned by Pitscottie with a brief note of the death
of the Duc de Vendome's daughter, "who took sick displeasure at the King
of Scotland's marriage that she deceased immediately thereafter; whereat
the King of Scotland was highly displeased, thinking that he was the
occasion of that gentlewoman's death." Other historians say that this
tragical conclusion did not occur, but that the Princess of Vendome was
married on the same day as James. Pitscottie's is the more romantic
ending, and rounds the pathetic tale.

After such a mournful and ineffectual attempt at married life all the
negotiations had to be begun over again, and James was at last married,
to the general satisfaction, to Mary of Guise, a woman, as it turned
out, of many fine and noble qualities, to which but indifferent justice
was ever done. It was before this event, however, and immediately after
the death of the Queen, that a curious and tragical incident happened,
which furnished another strange scene to the many associations of
Edinburgh. This was the execution of Lady Glamis upon the Castle Hill
for witchcraft and secret attempts upon the life of the King by means of
magic or of poison. No one seems to know what these attempts were.
Pitscottie gives this extraordinary event a short paragraph. The grave
Pinkerton fills a page or two with an apology or defence of James for
permitting such an act. But we are not told what was the evidence, or
how the sovereign's life was threatened. The supposed culprit was
however--and the fact is significant--the only member of the family of
Angus left in Scotland, the sister of the Earl. Once more the Castle
Hill was covered with an awed or excited crowd, not unaccustomed to that
sight, for the heretics had burnt there not long before, but at once
more and less moved than usual, for the victim was a woman fair and
dignified, such a sufferer as always calls forth the pity of the
spectators, but her crime witchcraft, a thing held in universal horror,
and with which there would be no sympathisers. Few, if any, in that
crowd would be so advanced in sentiment as to regard the cruel
exhibition with the horrified contempt of modern times. The throng that
lined that great platform would have no doubt that it was right to burn
a witch wherever she was found; and the beauty of the woman and the
grandeur of her race would give a pang the more of painful satisfaction
in her