Haunted by these thoughts, the king went thence to Carney castle, and next to his palace at Falkland, where he took to his bed. It would have been natural for him to go to Linlithgow, to his queen, who was on the point of giving birth to a child. He chose rather to be at a distance from her. Loose living is incompatible with domestic happiness. No symptom showed that his death was near. James, however, was always repeating the words, ‘Before such a day I shall be dead.’ His courtiers, astonished and afflicted, said to one another that if the queen gave him a son, the happiness so much desired would restore him; but on December 8, 1542, she gave birth to a girl--the celebrated Mary Stuart. On learning that the newborn infant was a girl, James, wounded afresh in his dearest wish, turned to the wall, away from those who had brought him the sad tidings. ‘The devil go with it,’ he said; ‘it will end as it began; it came with a lass, and it will go with a lass.’[264] He saw his family extinct, his crown lost. Other Stuarts, however, bore it after Mary. Both Scotland and England, unhappily, knew that to their cost. But this circumstance--the hope frustrated of a son to take the place of the two which he had lost--was a fresh and fatal blow for the unfortunate James: De douleur en douleur il traversait la vie. The cardinal presented himself at the castle. His visit was natural at that moment. But the ambitious prelate, supposing the king to be near death, came not to console him, but to secure his own position. As the king in his present dangerous state could only hear with difficulty, the primate cried in his ear--‘Take order, sir, with the realm. Who shall rule during the minority of your daughter? Ye have known my service; what will ye have done? Shall there not be four regents chosen, and shall not I be principal of them?’ The clever prelate succeeded in getting a document prepared which was in his favor. The king was sinking. But the memory of Solway ran continually in his head, and disturbed his last moments. ‘Fie,’ cried he; ‘fled is Oliver? is Oliver taken? All is lost.’ On December 14, 1542, at the age of thirty-two, six days after the birth of Mary Stuart, James V. died. When disrobing him, they found in his pocket the famous proscription list. What was to come of that now?