“There is no time now to study up, but when the Pastor asks ‘Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?’ just step forward and say, ‘I do’.”
There was no danger of failure there. “Now wait until I run again to the chapel, to see if our minister is sufficiently coached, and then let the conquering victims come!”
The good man was ready, and quite delighted with the beautiful service. When we disagreed about the positions to be taken, he good-naturedly allowed himself to be backed against the rough little pulpit, and with an expression of amused curiosity prepared for the now waiting couple.
Perhaps a dozen camp friends had quietly entered and seated themselves to witness the ceremony, and all was ready. Hastily returning once more to our tent, and finding every one ready, and fearing that our little secret might be discovered, we ordered “Double quick.” Bob and I went first together, the two groomsmen and bridesmaid entered from different directions. Sister Painter came next with the bride, and even in her well worn, patched brown ‘every day’, with travelling hat and pretty collar, she seemed quite beautiful. Hannah covered the retreat.
As we arranged our little wedding procession, the solemnity of the occasion became impressive, while the shades of evening struggled through the bare windows of the large chapel, and the gleam of half a dozen candles cast a glow over the Pastor’s form as he stood, book in hand, awaiting the first sight of the twain, now slowly approaching. All fell, quietly and orderly, into position. And there, far from home and dear friends, in the roughly boarded, unplaned, unpainted structure where “the Boys in Blue” so often gathered to hear the words of love and truth, was solemnly performed the beautiful ceremony, without a pause or interruption, which joined two loving hearts as one in holy bonds, never to be severed on earth. “Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”
More than one silent tear of thankfulness fell as the last prayer died away on the lips of the good man, who had so beautifully solemnized this institution.
Night had now fallen as all joyfully congratulated the noble looking, happy pair. They walked arm in arm, man and wife, back to our tents, where we quietly followed, no rumor having reached the alert ears of the poor weary fellows, anxious for a break in the monotony of hospital life.
The guests at the reception in our large tent consisted only of our own little party, and the refreshments were composed of a couple of bottles of Sister Painter’s home-made wine, and a “wolverine” cake, hastily made by Mary Blackmar’s willing hands.
Rev. —— wrote the certificate, and we had a merry time in witnessing it; while our tent was illuminated with two extra candles in bottles, and the wind made sweet music above our laughter on the swaying canvas roof. The great black log blazed brightly, now and then snapping out a sharp shout of joy, and all went merrily as the traditional marriage bell.
Bob, of course, was obliged to return at once to his regiment; leaving his bride for a day or two while he cleaned up his regimental quarters, and obtained permission to go to housekeeping where bullets rained and shells stormed, and thither he took his happy bride.