, where the chief of Clan
Chattan (who, it should be remarked, was a rejected suitor of
Margaret) tried to induce her to become his bride. To all his
entreaties she turned a deaf ear, preferring to remain true to her
youthful Allan. She pleaded earnestly for her father and lover's
lives, and, after many entreaties and tears, succeeded so far as to
obtain a promise that only one of them would die. She was permitted to
make choice of the one she wished liberated, but was warned that by so
doing she sealed the doom of the other captive.

As might be expected, the lady sank fainting on the floor, where she
lay, more like one dead than alive, until rude attendants, desirous to
please their lord, raised her up and hurried her into the presence of
her father and lover, for whose sakes she would have willingly laid
down her life if it could have saved theirs. With sobbing and tears,
she made known the resolution of the hard-hearted revengeful monster,
into whose power destiny had placed them. While the broken-hearted
Margaret's eyes were now fixed on her lover's manly figure, and then
on the bowed form of her aged father, and before she could really
understand the full extent of responsibility that rested on her, she
was embraced by her father, who took her hand and that of Allan, and
joined them together, beseeching them to live and remember him when he
was no more. He then made Allan swear by the hand of his bride that he
would avenge his death, and so leave no stain on their honour or
names. Girding himself up like a man of courage, he sent this message
to the tyrant chief: "The Grant of Glenmorriston waits his doom."

Enraged at the turn of events, the chieftain, in violation of his
promise to the maiden, determined that Allan should not survive to
stand between him and the union of Margaret. Sad forebodings filled
her mind during the succeeding night. Silent and alone she sat until
break of day, when she was aroused by the shrill pibroch, heavy
footsteps, and the clank of arms. A silent prayer went up for the soul
of her parent, who, she rightly judged, was suffering the last pangs
of death. How it was she could not tell, but something whispered to
her that Allan too was passing into the land of spirits.

She had not long to wait, though the time seemed to her like an age,
before the chieftain of Moy appeared before her, and commanded her to
come forth to see the youth of her choice. More dead than alive, she
staggered