"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
[1] A famous biscuit-baker.
[2] "Fisherman's walk"—two steps and overboard.
[3] Kelter—order.
[4] Strong glass of grog.