Scotland to save my head.

You will hear of Mary again in this history, and still clinging to her you
will find that same strange fatality which during all her life brought
evils upon her that were infectious to her friends and wrought their ruin.

One evening, in the autumn of the year 1567, I was sitting moodily before
my fire in the town of Dundee, brooding over Mary's disgraceful liaison
with Bothwell. I had solemnly resolved that I would see her never again,
and that I would turn my back upon the evil life I had led for so many
years, and would seek to acquire that quiescence of nature which is
necessary to an endurable old age. A tumultuous soul in the breast of an
old man breeds torture, but age, with the heart at rest, I have found is
the best season of life.

In the midst of my gloomy thoughts and good resolves my friend, Sir Thomas
Douglas, entered my room without warning and in great agitation.

"Are you alone?" he asked hurriedly, in a low voice.

"Save for your welcome presence, Sir Thomas," I answered, offering my
hand.

"The queen has been seized," he whispered, "and warrants for high treason
have been issued against many of her friends--you among the number.
Officers are now coming to serve the writ. I rode hither in all haste to
warn you. Lose not a moment, but flee for your life. The Earl of Murray
will be made regent to-morrow."

"My servant? My horse?" I responded.