Rory MacGillivray - Page 2

harangue, or, what is more probable, that he did not choose to
attend to it, certain it is that it proved totally ineffectual to
accomplish its object, and the consequence was that Donald Macgillivray
found it equally his duty and his interest to return home to his family
with the melancholy tale of poor Rory's fate. All the prescribed
ceremonies calculated to rescue him from the fairy dominion were resorted
to by his mourning relatives without effect, and Rory was supposed lost
for ever, when a "wise man" of the day having learned the circumstance,
discovered to his friends a plan by which they might deliver him at the
end of twelve months from his entry.

"Return," says the _Duin Glichd_ to Donald, "to the place where you lost
your brother a year and a day from the time. You will insert in your
garment a _Rowan Cross_, which will protect you from the fairies'
interposition. Enter the turret boldly and resolutely in the name of the
Highest, claim your brother, and, if he does not accompany you
voluntarily, seize him and carry him off by force--none dare interfere
with you."

The experiment appeared to the cautious contemplative brother as one that
was fraught with no ordinary danger, and he would have most willingly
declined the prominent character allotted to him in the performance but
for the importunate entreaty of his friends, who implored him, as he
valued their blessing, not to slight such excellent advice. Their
entreaties, together with his confidence in the virtues of the _Rowan
Cross_, overcame his scruples, and he at length agreed to put the
experiment in practice, whatever the result might be.

Well, then, the important day arrived, when the father of the two sons
was destined either to recover his lost son, or to lose the only son he
had, and, anxious as the father felt, Donald Macgillivray, the intended
adventurer, felt no less so on the occasion. The hour of midnight
approached when the drama was to be acted, and Donald Macgillivray,
loaded with all the charms and benedictions in his country, took mournful
leave of his friends, and proceeded to the scene of his intended
enterprise. On approaching the well-known turret, a repetition of that
mirth and those ravishing sounds, that had been the source of so much
sorrow to himself and family, once more attracted his attention, without
at all creating in his mind any extraordinary feelings of satisfaction.
On the contrary, he abhorred the sounds most heartily, and felt much
greater inclination to recede than to advance. But what was to be done?
Courage, character, and everything dear to him were at stake, so that to
advance was his only alternative. In short, he reached the "Shian," and,
after twenty