"Till then, every evening, as much to accustom themselves to these new
costumes as to give them an appearance of having been worn, her Majesty
and Miss Mary Seyton will dress themselves in the suits, which they must
keep on from nine o'clock till midnight. Besides, it is possible that,
without having had time to warn them, their young guide may suddenly come
to seek them: it is urgent, then, that he find them ready.

"The garments ought to fit perfectly her Majesty and her companion, the
measure having been taken on Miss Mary Fleming and Miss Mary Livingston,
who are exactly their size.

"One cannot too strongly recommend her Majesty to summon to her aid on
the supreme occasion the coolness and courage of which she has given such
frequent proofs at other times."

The two prisoners were astounded at the boldness of this plan: at first
they looked at one another in consternation, for success seemed
impossible. They none the less made trial of their disguise: as George
had said, it fitted each of them as if they had been measured for it.

Every evening the queen questioned the light, as George had urged, and
that for a whole long month, during which each evening the queen and Mary
Seyton, although the light gave no fresh tidings, arrayed themselves in
their men's clothes, as had been arranged, so that they both acquired
such practice that they became as familiar to them as those of their own
sex.

At last, the 2nd May, 1568, the queen was awakened by the blowing of a
horn: uneasy as to what it announced, she slipped on a cloak and ran to
the window, where Mary Seyton joined her directly. A rather numerous
band of horsemen had halted on the side of the lake, displaying the
Douglas pennon, and three boats were rowing together and vying with each
other to fetch the new arrivals.

This event caused the queen dismay: in her situation the least change in
the castle routine was to be feared, for it might upset all the concerted
plans. This apprehension redoubled when, on the boats drawing near, the
queen recognised in the elder Lord Douglas, the husband of Lady
Lochleven, and the father of William and George. The venerable knight,
who was Keeper of the Marches in the north, was coming to visit his
ancient manor, in which he had not set foot for three years.

It was an event for Lochleven; and, some minutes after the arrival of the
boats, Mary Stuart heard the old steward's footsteps mounting the stairs:
he came to