"'Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’"
There was a pause.
"Speak up, Mistress Sharland, speak up!" said Mrs. De Witt in a tone of authority. "Or, if you don't speak, curtsey."
The curate was affected with a violent sneezing fit. When he recovered he went on. Rebow clasped Mehalah's hand firmly, and firmly repeated the sentences after the priest.
"'I, Elijah, take thee'" began the curate; then asked, in a whisper, "What is the bride's name?
"Mehalah," answered the mother.
"'I, Elijah, take thee, Mehalah, to my wedded wife,'" began the curate.
"'I, Elijah, take thee. Glory, to my wedded wife,'" repeated Rebow.
"That is not the name," protested Mr. Rabbit.
"I marry Glory, and no one else; I take her by that name and by none other," said Rebow. "Go on."
"Say the words after me," the curate whispered to Mehalah, who began to tremble. She obeyed, but stopped at the promise "to love, cherish, and to obey." The curate repeated it again.
"'To obey,'" said Mehalah.
Mr. Rabbit looked uncertain how to act.
"'To love, cherish, and obey,'" he suggested faintly.
"Go on," ordered Rebow. "Let her obey now; the rest will come in due season."
The priest nervously submitted.
"Now for the ring," said the clerk. "Put it on the book."
Rebow was taken by surprise. "By heaven!" he said, "I forgot all about that."
"You must have something to use for the purpose," said the curate. "Have you no ring of your own?"
"No. Am I like to have?"
"Then let her mother lend her her own marriage-ring."
"She shall not," said Rebow angrily. "No, no! Glory's marriage with me is not a second-hand affair, and like that of such fools as she," pointing to Mrs.
