The Earl of Shrewsbury, who had been Mary’s guardian for nineteen years, broke the news to her. She heard her fate with the utmost calmness, saying that she was content and even happy that she was so soon to be freed from so many miseries and afflictions, and rejoicing that God had given her grace to die for the honour of His name and for His Church. Finally she asked when she was to suffer. “To-morrow morning at eight o’clock,” was the reply. Let us not linger over the painful scene of her execution. She laid her head upon the block with calm fortitude, the axe descended, and the long tragedy of her life was over. She sinned grievously, but she suffered greatly, and she will never lack champions who will stoutly maintain even to the crack of doom that she was more sinned against than sinning. [Illustration: =The Murder of Rizzio.= (_From the picture by John Opie, R.A., in the Art Gallery of the Corporation of London._)] [Illustration: =AT SEA. “FAREWELL, FRANCE!”= (_From the picture by Robert Herdman, R.S.A._)] [Illustration: =ESCAPE OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS FROM LOCH LEVEN CASTLE.= (_From the picture by Thomas Danby, R.A., in Bethnal Green Museum._)] [Illustration: The Spanish Armada] Chapter XII. IN THE SPACIOUS DAYS. THE SPANISH ARMADA. “_Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England’s praise;_ _I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,_ _When the great fleet invincible against her bore in vain_ _The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain._” IT is the afternoon of July 19, in the year of grace 1588. You are gazing at the terraced bowling-green of the Pelican Inn that looks down upon the blue waters of Plymouth Sound. A group of admirals and captains is gathered on the closely-shaven lawn, men of mark every one of them, and sea-dogs all. They are waiting, “as lions in their lair wait for the passing of a herd of deer.”