The other party made haste to assemble their forces. At their head was Murray, a half-brother of the queen--a man whom she had loaded with benefits and honors, and to whom she had twice granted life, when condemned for treason. He now acted as regent, in the minority of the infant prince, whom the confederates assumed to be king. The hostile bands met at Langside. From a neighboring hill, Mary viewed a conflict on which her fate depended. She beheld--with what anguish of heart may be imagined--the fortune of the day turn against her; she saw her faithful friends cut to pieces, taken prisoners, or flying before the victorious Murray. When all was lost, her general, Lord Herries, came up to her, seized her bridle, and turned her horse's head from the dismal scene. With a few adherents she fled southwards; nor did she repose till she reached Dundrennan, sixty miles from the field of battle. There Mary, trusting in Elizabeth's recent professions of friendship, took the fatal resolution of throwing herself upon the compassion and protection of the English queen. As she approached the boundary, her resolution faltered; the coming evils seemed to cast their shadows before; but those which awaited her, if she remained, were certain, and she crossed the small stream which formed the parting line. Mary was at this time in her twenty-sixth year; in the very prime of existence, in the full bloom of beauty and health, when a dark pall was spread over her life. Thenceforward her history presents one painful picture of monotonous suffering on the one hand, and of meanness, treachery, and cruelty, on the other. With relentless cruelty, her rival kept her in perpetual bonds; the only changes were from prison to prison, and from one harsh keeper to another; from the gleam of delusive hope to the blackness of succeeding disappointment.