Reading the history of Mary’s prison life in England, one is surprised at the frequent expressions of hope in Elizabeth’s good will which are found in her letters. How she could continue to hope in one who had repeatedly deceived her is difficult to explain, except on the supposition that she was constitutionally incapable of believing that misery such as hers could fail to awaken sympathy in the heart of a woman. There can be little doubt, however, that she believed considerably less in Elizabeth’s friendship than she professed. But the absence of all well-founded hope, except through the favourable action of Elizabeth, led her to employ every subtle means in her power to induce her "good cousin" to break the fetters of her captivity, and restore her once more to liberty. Still, she did not always restrain her actions within these diplomatic lines; she was human,--noble and courageous, it is true, but only human--and the desire of freedom, the sense of the injustice she suffered, and the pains of her illness, occasionally broke forth in angry and impassioned language. But she never lost the consciousness that she was a Queen, nor did she hesitate, when mild and guarded language proved vain, to speak with bold and dignified straightforwardness, that seemed almost designed to challenge the direst resentment of her royal captor. Her letter to Elizabeth, dated from Sheffield, November 8th, 1582, is a good specimen, both of her plain, outspoken style, and of her insinuating pathos, and likewise witnesses the clearness and vigour of her mind, despite long years of bodily and mental suffering. The document is lengthy, and I shall omit those paragraphs which I may consider of lesser interest to the reader:-- "Madam,-- "Upon that which has come to my knowledge of the last conspiracies executed in Scotland against my poor child, having reason to fear the consequence of it, from the example of myself; I must employ the very small remainder of my life and strength before my death, to discharge my heart to you fully of my just and melancholy complaints, of which I desire that this letter may serve you, as long as you live after me, for a perpetual testimony and engraving upon your conscience; as much for my discharge to posterity as to the shame and confusion of all those who, under your approbation, have so cruelly and unworthily treated me to this time, and reduced me to the extremity in which I am. But, as their designs, practices, actions and proceedings, though as detestable as they could have been, have always prevailed with you against my very just remonstrances, and sincere deportment; and as the power which you have in your hands, has always been a reason for you among mankind, I will have recourse to the living God, our only judge, who has established us equally and immediately under him for the government of his people.