somebody obeyed. "Now, Henri
Marais, do you give your daughter to be married to this man?"

"No," said Marais softly.

"Very well, that is just like you, but it doesn't matter, for she is of
age and can give herself. Is she not of age, Henri Marais? Don't stand
there like a horse with the staggers, but tell me; is she not of age?"

"I believe so," he answered in the same soft voice.

"Then take notice, people all, that this woman is of age, and gives
herself to be married to this man, don't you, my dear?"

"Yes," answered Marie.

"All right, now for it," and, opening the book, he held it up to the
light, and began to read, or, rather, to stumble, through the marriage
service.

Presently he stuck fast, being, like most Boers of his time, no great
scholar, and exclaimed:

"Here, one of you help me with these hard words."

As nobody volunteered, Retief handed the book to me, for he knew that
Marais would not assist him, saying:

"You are a scholar, Allan, being a clergyman's son. Read on till we come
to the important bits, and I will say the words after you, which will do
just as well and be quite according to law."

So I read, Heaven knows how, for the situation was trying enough, until
I came to the crucial questions, when I gave the book back.

"Ah!" said Retief; "this is quite easy. Now then, Allan, do you take
this woman to be your wife? Answer, putting in your name, which is left
blank in the book."

I replied that I did, and the question was repeated to Marie, who did
likewise.

"Well then, there you are," said Retief, "for I won't trouble you with
all the prayers, which I don't feel myself parson enough to say. Oh! no,
I forgot. Have you a ring?"

I drew one off my finger that had been my mother's--I believe it had
served this same purpose at the wedding of her grandmother--and set the
thin little hoop of gold upon the third finger of Marie's left hand. I
still wear that ring to-day.

"It should have been a new one," muttered Vrouw Prinsloo.

"Be silent, aunt," said Retief; "are there any jewellers' shops here in
the veld? A ring is a ring, even if it came off a horse's bit. There, I
think that is all. No, wait a minute, I am going to say a prayer of my
own over you, not one out of this book, which is so badly printed that
I cannot read it. Kneel down, both of you; the rest may stand, as the
grass is so wet."

Now, bethinking herself of Marie's new dress, the vrouw produced her
vatdoek from