“What did you say?” Elfride inquired timorously.
“It was only a quotation.”
They had now dropped into a hollow, and the church tower made its appearance against the pale evening sky, its lower part being hidden by some intervening trees. Elfride, being denied an answer, was looking at the tower and trying to think of some contrasting quotation she might use to regain his tenderness. After a little thought she said in winning tones—
‘Thou hast been my hope, and a strong tower for me against the enemy.’”
They passed on. A few minutes later three or four birds were seen to fly out of the tower.
“The strong tower moves,” said Knight, with surprise.
A corner of the square mass swayed forward, sank, and vanished. A loud rumble followed, and a cloud of dust arose where all had previously been so clear.
“The church restorers have done it!” said Elfride.
At this minute Mr. Swancourt was seen approaching them. He came up with a bustling demeanour, apparently much engrossed by some business in hand.
“We have got the tower down!” he exclaimed. “It came rather quicker than we intended it should. The first idea was to take it down stone by stone, you know. In doing this the crack widened considerably, and it was not believed safe for the men to stand upon the walls any longer. Then we decided to undermine it, and three men set to work at the weakest corner this afternoon. They had left off for the evening, intending to give the final blow to-morrow morning, and had been home about half an hour, when down it came. A very successful job—a very fine job indeed. But he was a tough old fellow in spite of the crack.” Here Mr. Swancourt wiped from his face the perspiration his excitement had caused him.