"It is for his own sake," said the priest, "that I have recommended the provision of the means for saving his soul. We are not bees, to produce wax for tapers; nor birds of paradise, to fly from hence to Jerusalem, and sit on the holy shrine, without being fed as other birds; nor are we canonised saints, requiring no meat nor drink. We must live, or we cannot pray. Wilt _thou_, madam, give up a half of thy liferent, to aid in the redemption of the soul thou lovest so ardently?" "Thou hast heard my lord's commands," rejoined the lady. "I cannot allow my mind to be occupied at present with thoughts of that contemptible trash thou callest gold. What is all the earldom of the Comyns to the preservation of the life of my dear husband?--Walter, dear Walter! what can be done for thee?" "The priest hath already my commands," answered the earl. "The parchment!--the parchment!--and--and--water--water!" "Hie thee away to thy work, good monk," cried the lady. "There's no time for parley. Away. Thou seest that _I_ deny him not his request." "Water costeth little," said the priest, with a smile of suspicion, "and availeth little either to assuage these pains or those of purgatory." The priest retired, and in the course of an hour returned, with the deed extended, and two witnesses at his back. The paper was read. Comyn was still able to sign it. He attached his name, and in a few minutes expired. Thus died that remarkable man. A dark story now arose in Scotland: Countess Margaret had encouraged a criminal passion for the English baron, John Russel, and was openly accused of having poisoned her husband, by means of a posset of milk and sack, to make way for her paramour, whom she married with indecent haste. Insulted and disgraced, she and her husband were thrown into prison, despoiled of their estate, and compelled to leave the kingdom. It was afterwards rumoured in Scotland that she quarrelled with Russel--who ill-used her, and stood in continual fear of being treated in the same way as Comyn--and, finally, drowned herself in the river Thames. END OF VOL. X