On her return to Edinburgh a few weeks later Mary publicly married Bothwell—­she swore afterwards against her will, but, in any case, to the anger and disgust of her subjects.  She found her new husband an arrogant tyrant rather than her slave, and he watched her closely.  The dire infatuation of the lovelorn woman soon wore off, and again she sighed to be free; but it was too late, for the Catholic powers stood aloof from her now that she had married a divorced man, and all her nobles had abandoned her.  So Mary clung to Bothwell still, for he was strong, and all Scotland cried shame upon her.

In June, Mary and her husband, fearing attack or treachery, fled from Edinburgh Castle, which at once opened its gates to Morton and the rebel lords.  A parley was sent to Mary offering submission if she would leave Bothwell to his fate.  She indignantly refused, for she feared the lords and hated Morton.  Bothwell was strong, she thought, and he was the father of her unborn child; be might protect her.  So by Bothwell’s side she rode out at the head of the border clansmen, and met the rebel army at Carberry Hill, hard by Edinburgh.

It was agreed that the dispute should be decided by the single combat between Bothwell and Lindsay, but before the duel began Mary’s bordermen became disordered, and then she knew that all was lost.  Kirkaldy of Grange came from her opponents to parley with her and offer safety for her, but not for Bothwell.  Whilst they were speaking, Bothwell attempted 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.