"Fear not, father," said Anne, calmly; "thou art safe."
"Peter of Ghent," replied he, "who hath furnished money for the support of the city, will be among the first objects of the vengeance of the Bruce. Ha! I hear already the groans of the dying. Whither shall I fly, or where shall I conceal myself?"
"Thou canst be safe only in this house," said Anne. "The Bruce hath, by his sword, pledged his faith to me that Peter of Ghent shall be safe in life and limb."
"What meaneth the damsel's strange words?" cried the father. "Art thou mad? Where couldst thou have seen the Bruce?"
"Concern not thyself for that, father," replied she, with the same unperturbed air. "Thou art safe. The Bruce hath said it."
Peter looked at his daughter in blank wonder; and, as the sounds of horns, the clashing of swords, and the screams of the dying met his ear, he trembled and seemed irresolute whether he should repose faith in her words, or take means for his safety. A loud noise now approached the house; the door was burst open, and three naked caterans entered the apartment, with bloodstained swords gleaming in their hands. One of them rushed forwards, and, seizing Peter, was on the point of thrusting the weapon into his bosom.
"He is safe by the word of the Bruce," ejaculated Anne, as she rushed between the soldier and her father.
"His name, then?" cried one of the soldiers behind.
"Peter of Ghent," answered Anne.
The sword of the soldier was dropped in an instant.