lion he was so severely wounded by a desperate freebooter, whom lie endeavoured to apprehend with his own hand, that he was obliged to be carried to the neighbouring Castle of Hermitage. Mary, who was then at the Castle of Borthwick, no sooner heard of his disaster than, notwithstanding the inclemency of the season, the danger of such a journey, and the smallness of her train, she hurried with all speed to Jedburgh, and from thence to Hermitage, to visit him. A dangerous fever was the consequence of this violent exertion, under which she was insensible for several days at Jedburgh; and on recovering her consciousness, she was so impressed with the thought that death was at hand, that she requested the nobles who were present to pray for her, commended her son to the guardianship of Queen Elizabeth, and sent for her neglected husband, who arrived two days after the crisis had passed. But now that the danger was over, she received him with her wonted aversion, and treated him with such discourtesy as made him glad, on the following day, to set off to Stirling. But
very different was the reception of Bothwell, whom she caused to be brought to her own temporary residence until he was fully recovered. The same marked difference in the conduct of the queen towards her husband and her paramour, was equally apparent in the baptism of her son, afterwards James VI. of Scotland and I. of England. On such an important occasion the father of the child, whatever might have been his faults, should have been a prominent personage in the ceremonial. But no. Bothwell was placed in his room as master of the arrangements, while poor Darnley, though living under the same roof (the Castle of Stirling), was required to confine himself to his apartments, on the plea that his apparel was not good enough to appear among the lordly throng at the baptismal font. And this was not all, for the ambassadors assembled there were forbid to hold conference with him, and the nobility to wait on him or escort him. Even James Melvil, who had compassionated the poor fallen consort-king, and presented him with a spaniel, was rated by the queen for so doing, declaring that she could no longer trust him, as he had made a present to one for whom she entertained no affection.
Bothwell was not a man to bear these honours meekly, or content himself with the love of the queen without sharing in her power. Already, also, he knew too well her wishes on the subject. She would have divorced Darnley to make room for his rival, but besides the difficulty of procuring a divorce, the legitimacy of her son would thereby have been called in question. No remedy remained but the death of Darnley, let it occur as it might. Upon this hint Bothwell was now in action. He sounded the principal nobles upon the expediency of removing him, alleging the queen's consent to that effect, and besought their co-operation. He spoke to those whose minds were already familiar with the idea of assassination, and whose power, when banded together, could brave discovery when it ensued, while so many concurred in his design that he thought he might now prosecute it without scruple. As for the poor victim of these machinations, he had left Stirling ; the queen, at his departure, causing his silver plate to be taken away, and paltry tin vessels to be substituted in their stead. He had fallen sick when he was scarcely a mile on his journey, and on reaching Glasgow eruptions resembling the small-pox broke out over his whole body, and confined him to a sick-bed. But, in the meantime, the plot against his life was so fully matured that nothing more remained than to bring him within reach of his murderer. Mary repaired to Glasgow to persuade him to return with her, and take up his abode in the Castle of Craigmillar, in the neighbour-
