d
to murder Grange; and when Mary forbade such treachery, he lost his
nerve and began to whimper. In a moment the scales fell from Mary's
eyes. This man was but a lath painted like steel. His strength was but a
lie, and he was unworthy of her. She turned from him in contempt, and
surrendered to the lords; while Bothwell fled, and unhappy Mary saw him
no more.

_V.--Langside and After_

Cursed by crowds, who reviled her as a murderess and adulteress, Mary
was led, a captive, to her capital. By night, to save her from the fury
of the mob, she was smuggled out of Edinburgh and lodged, a prisoner, in
the island fortress of Lochleven. During her long incarceration there
the story of her wrongs and sufferings stirred the Catholics at home and
abroad in her favour, and her friends and foes were again sharply
divided according to their religious creeds. The rulers of Scotland,
too, headed by her brother Murray, were far from easy; for the Catholics
were strong, and foreign crowned heads looked black at those who kept a
sovereign in durance. So attempts were made to conciliate her by
proposing marriage with some harmless Scottish noble, conjoined with her
abdication. But her heart was high still, and she would bate no jot of
her queenship; rather would she exercise her glamour upon her gaolers
and escape to power and sovereignty again. Her fascination was
irresistible, and Murray's half-brother, young George Douglas, a mere
lad, fell a victim to her smiles. Once more Mary fell in love, and
proposed to marry the youth who had endeavoured to aid her escape.

Murray was shocked, and had his brother expelled the castle; but in
April 1568 the faithful George planned her evasion of the guard and
joyfully welcomed her on the shore of the lake. To her standard flocked
the Catholic lords, and, safe at Hamilton, Mary, again a queen, swore
vengeance upon her foes. On her way with her army to Dumbarton she met
Murray's force at Langside, near Glasgow. She had been strong at
Carberry Hill with Bothwell at her side. Here she was weak, for no man
of weight or character was with her, and as her men wavered she turned
rein and fled.

For sixty miles on bad roads she struggled on, almost without sleep, and
living on beggar's fare. With no adviser or woman near her, in her panic
and despair she took the fatal resolve and crossed the Solway into
Elizabeth's realm, trusting to the magnanimity of the woman whom she had
tried to ruin and supp