gnition of her right to succeed to the English throne after
Elizabeth's death. It had been necessary, however, to ascertain in some
way whether her protestations were sincere. A secret watch had been kept
over her correspondence, and Babington's letters and her own answers had
fallen into Walsingham's hands. There it all was in her own cipher, the
key to which had been betrayed by the carelessness of a confederate. The
six gentlemen who were to have rewarded Elizabeth's confidence by
killing her were easily recognised. They were seized, with Babington and
Ballard, when they imagined themselves on the eve of their triumph.
Babington flinched and confessed, and they were all hanged. Mary Stuart
herself had outworn compassion. Twice already on the discovery of her
earlier plots the House of Commons had petitioned for her execution. For
this last piece of treachery she was tried at Fotheringay before a
commission of Peers and Privy Councillors. She denied her letters, but
her complicity was proved beyond a doubt. Parliament was called, and a
third time insisted that the long drama should now be ended and loyal
England be allowed to breathe in peace. Elizabeth signed the warrant.
France, Spain, any other power in the world would have long since made
an end of a competitor so desperate and so incurable. Torn by many
feelings--natural pity, dread of the world's opinion--Elizabeth paused
before ordering the warrant to be executed. If nothing had been at stake
but her own life, she would have left the lady to weave fresh plots and
at last, perhaps, to succeed. If the nation's safety required an end to
be made with her, she felt it hard that the duty should be thrown on
herself. Where were all those eager champions who had signed the
Association Bond, who had talked so loudly? Could none of them be found
to recollect their oaths and take the law into their own hands?

Her Council, Burghley, and the rest, knowing her disposition and feeling
that it was life or death to English liberty, took the responsibility on
themselves. They sent the warrant down to Fotheringay at their own risk,
leaving their mistress to deny, if she pleased, that she had meant it to
be executed; and the wild career of Mary Stuart ended on the scaffold.

They knew what they were immediately doing. They knew that if treason
had a meaning Mary Stuart had brought her fate upon herself. They did
not, perhaps, realise the full effects that were to follow, or that w