So I suppose that, profaned by heathen hands, it may no longer call men from across the water and woodland to the church of God.
Soon came the boats from Halfden's ship and picked up those who yet clung to what they might of the wreck, and then ship and Danes passed from Bosham haven, leaving the silent tower and burning village to mark where they had been.
Then the prior sighed, and turning away, said: "Let us go to Chichester and find shelter.

Night comes soon, and rest." Sadly enough we went, though not for long: for when we came into the roadway from the forest land, the prior put his heavy thoughts aside, and spoke cheerfully to me.
"What is done is done; and but for you, my son, things would have been worse.

And their greed for the bell has made them spare the church itself.

Surely you must have fallen from the clouds to help us--borne hither from the East Anglian land whose tongue bewrays you." "I marvel that you trusted me," I said.
"I trusted your face, my son, and when one is in a hard case the first help is ever the best.

Yet now I would fain know somewhat of my good comrade." Now I think that to any but this monk, with his friendly smile and way of quiet authority, I should have been ashamed to own my part with the Danes.