The defection of James deeply wounded the mother’s heart. "This was the most unkindest cut of all." That the one for whom she had so long defended the independence of Scotland against the English claim of suzerainty; that the one from whom she had hopefully waited through years of patient suffering to receive even one word that would assure her that she had a son growing up to love and assist her; that the one whom she remembered only as an innocent and playful infant, from whom she had been, torn away by heartless traitors,--that he should abandon her when fresh miseries were gathering thick and fast around her, was more than she could calmly suffer, and for a short time her wounded love and feelings of indignation were revealed in sad and bitter complaint. "Was it for this," she wrote to the French Ambassador, "that I have endured so much, in order to preserve for him the inheritance to which I have a just right? I am far from envying his authority in Scotland. I desire no power, nor wish to set my foot in that kingdom, if it were not for the pleasure of once embracing a son, whom I have hitherto loved with too tender affection. Whatever he either enjoys or expects, he derived it from me. From him I never received assistance, supply or benefit of any kind. Let not my allies treat him any longer as a king; he holds that dignity by my consent; and if a speedy repentance does not appease my just resentment, I will load him with a parent’s curse, and surrender my crown, with all its pretensions, to one who will receive them with gratitude, and defend them with vigour."