She was now the most charming princess of her time, fond of music, dancing, laughter, and gaiety, yet eager for risk and adventure, and always rejoicing in the clash of arms. Often she wished she were a man “to know what life it was to lie all night in the fields, or to walk on the causeway with a jack and knapsack, a Glasgow buckler, and a broadsword.” In statecraft she was the equal of Queen Elizabeth, and in person and charm she far exceeded her royal kinswoman. Her beauty, grace, and easy cordiality won the hearts of all with whom she came in contact. She left France most reluctantly, and as long as the shores of that gay, joyous land remained in sight she riveted her gaze on them. As they gradually faded from her sight she sighed, and said again and again, “Adieu, France! I shall never see thee more!” She arrived at Leith unexpectedly on a dismal day of thick fog and incessant rain. Never was a more unpropitious home-coming. She had returned to a stern, poor, unruly kingdom, which had adopted Reformation doctrines with remarkable zeal and austerity. The guiding spirit of the time was John Knox, the most implacable and fearless Reformer who ever lived. Well indeed did he deserve the eulogy spoken at his graveside, “Here lyeth a man who in his life never feared the face of man.” The Covenant had been signed, the authority of the Pope had been thrown off, and Protestantism had taken deep root in the land. Mary was a strong Romanist, and she meant to restore her kingdom to the old faith. In this she failed utterly, for almost the whole of her people were bitterly opposed to Romanism in any shape or form. While in France, Mary and her husband had assumed the style and title of King and Queen of England, and Elizabeth was naturally aggrieved. Now Mary offered to give up her claim if Elizabeth would recognize her as heir to the English throne. The Scottish queen said that she asked for nothing more than her due. Should Elizabeth—the Virgin Queen—die without children, Mary would be heir to her throne by right of birth, though her claim had been barred by Henry the Eighth. Elizabeth, however, flatly refused to make any such agreement. For a time Mary was popular with her subjects, but soon the heather was on fire. All sorts of suitors aspired to her hand, and the rival factions were eager to marry her to a Catholic or a Protestant, according to the character of their respective beliefs. At length, however, she decided to marry Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, “a long lad . . . beardless and lady-faced,” and only nineteen years of age. He was a Roman Catholic like herself.