He paused ere he answered, in a stern, deep voice-- "Sir John Comyn lived and died a traitor, lady.

He hath received the meed of his base treachery; his traitorous design for the renewed slavery of his country--the imprisonment and death of the only one that stood forth in her need." "And by whom did the traitor die ?" fiercely demanded the young heir of Buchan.

"Mother, thy cheek is blanched; yet wherefore?
Comyn as I am, shall we claim kindred with a traitor, and turn away from the good cause, because, forsooth, a traitorous Comyn dies?
No; were the Bruce's own right hand red with the recreant's blood--he only is the Comyn's king." "Thou hast said it, youthful lord," said the knight, impressively.

"Alan of Buchan, bear that bold heart and patriot sword unto the Bruce's throne, and Comyn's traitorous name shall be forgotten in the scion of Macduff.

Thy mother's loyal blood runs reddest in thy veins, young sir; too pure for Comyn's base alloy.