ached Bothwell bitterly for
the ungrateful and cruel return he was making for all her kindness to
him, by such a deed of violence and wrong, and begged and entreated
him to let her go. Bothwell replied that he knew that it was wrong for
him to treat his sovereign so rudely, but that he was impelled to it
by the circumstances of the case, and by love which he felt for her,
which was too strong for him to control. He then entreated her to
become his wife; he complained of the bitter hostility which he had
always been subject to from his enemies, and that he could have no
safeguard from this hostility in time to come but in her favor; and
he could not depend upon any assurance of her favor less than her
making him her husband. He protested that, if she would do so, he
would never ask to share her power, but would be content to be her
faithful and devoted servant, as he had always been. It was love, not
ambition, he said, that animated him, and he could not and would not
be refused. Mary says that she was distressed and agitated beyond
measure by the appeals and threats with which Bothwell accompanied his
urgent entreaties. She tried every way to plan some mode of escape.
Nobody came to her rescue. She was entirely alone, and in Bothwell's
power. Bothwell assured her that the leading nobles of her court were
in favor of the marriage, and showed her a written agreement signed by
them to this effect. At length, wearied and exhausted, she was finally
overcome by his urgency, and yielding partly to his persuasions, and
partly, as she says, to force, gave herself up to his power.

Mary remained at Dunbar about ten days, during which time Bothwell
sued out and obtained a divorce from his wife. His wife, feeling,
perhaps, resentment more than grief, sued, at the same time, for a
divorce from him. Bothwell then sallied forth from his fastness at
Dunbar, and, taking Mary with him, went to Edinburgh, and took up his
abode in the castle there, as that fortress was then under his power.
Mary soon after appeared in public and stated that she was now
entirely free, and that, although Bothwell had done wrong in carrying
her away by violence, still he had treated her since in so respectful
a manner, that she had pardoned him, and had received him into favor
again. A short time after this they were married. The ceremony was
performed in a very private and unostentatious manner, and took place
in May, about three months after the murder of D