“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 a capacious pocket, and doubled up that dingy article for Marie to kneel on, which she did.  Then Pieter Retief, flinging down the book, clasped his hands and uttered this simple, earnest prayer, whereof, strangely enough, every word remains fast in my mind.  Coming as it did, not from a printed page, but from his honest and believing heart, it was very impressive and solemn.

“O God above us, Who sees all and is with us when we are born, when we are married, when we die, and if we do our duty for all time afterwards in Heaven, hear our prayer.  I pray Thee bless this man and this woman who appear here before Thee to be wed.  Make them love each other truly all their lives, be these long or short, be they sick or well, be they happy or in sorrow, be they rich or poor.  Give them children to be reared up in Thy Word, give them an honest name and the respect of all who know them,