t 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 announce his master's arrival to the queen, and, as
it must needs be a time of rejoicing to all the castle inhabitants
when its master returned, he came to invite the queen to the dinner in
celebration of the event: whether instinctively or from distaste, the
queen declined.

All day long the bell and the bugle resounded: Lord Douglas, like a true
feudal lord, travelled with the retinue of a prince. One saw nothing
but new soldiers and servants passing and repassing beneath the queen's
windows: the footmen and horsemen were wearing, moreover, a livery
similar to that which the queen and Mary Seyton had received.

Mary awaited the night with impatience. The day before, she had
questioned her light, and it had informed her as usual, in reappearing
at her eleventh or twelfth heart-beat, that the moment of escape was
near; but she greatly feared that Lord Douglas's arrival might have
upset everything, and that this evening's signal could only announce a
postponement. But hardly had she seen the light shine than she placed
her lamp in the window; the other disappeared directly, and Mary Stuart,
with terrible anxiety, began to question it. This anxiety increased when
she had counted more than fifteen beats. Then she stopped, cast down,
her eyes mechanically fixed on the spot where the light had been. But
her astonishment was great when, at the end of a few minutes, she did
not see it reappear, and when, half an hour having elapsed, everything
remained in darkness. The queen then renewed her signal, but obtained no
response: the escape was for the same evening.

The queen and Mary Seyton were so little expecting this issue, that,
contrary to their custom, they had not put on their men's clothes that
evening. They immediately flew to the queen's bed-chamber, bolted the
door behind them, and began to dress.

They had hardly finished their hurried toilet