her eyelids by the fraction of an inch as she answered:

"I will marry you."

He tried to speak but could only mutter a hoarse, "Thank you."

He turned his head. Homo stood at the end of the plank and he beckoned
him.

Parson Homo came to the centre of the frail bridge, slipped a Prayer
Book from his tail pocket and opened it.

"Dearly beloved, we are come together here in the sight of God to join
together this Man and this Woman in Holy Matrimony....

"I require and charge you both as ye will answer at the dreadful Day of
Judgment when the secret of all hearts shall be disclosed that if either
of you know any impediment why ye may not be joined together in
Matrimony ye do now confess it."

Beale's lips were tight pressed. The girl was looking serenely upward to
a white cloud that sailed across the western skies.

Homo read quickly, his enunciation beautifully clear, and Beale found
himself wondering when last this man had performed so sacred an office.
He asked the inevitable question and Beale answered. Homo hesitated,
then turned to the girl.

"Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband to live together after
God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and
serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and
forsaking all others keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall
live?"

The girl did not immediately answer, and the pause was painful to the
two men, but for different reasons. Then she suddenly withdrew her gaze
from the sky and looked Homo straight in the face.

"I will," she said.

The next question in the service he dispensed with. He placed their
hands together, and together repeating his words, they plighted their
troth. Homo leant forward and again joined their hands and a note of
unexpected solemnity vibrated in his voice when he spoke.

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."

Beale drew a deep breath then:

"Very pretty indeed," said a voice.

The detective swung across the window to bring the speaker into a line
of fire.

"Put down your gun, admirable Mr. Beale." Van Heerden stood in the
centre of the room and the bulky figure of Milsom filled the doorway.

"Very pretty indeed, and most picturesque," said van Heerden. "I didn't
like to interrupt the ceremony. Perhaps you will now come into the
house, Mr. Beale, and I will explain a few things to you. You need not
trouble about your--wife. She will not be