“All right, colonel,” said Mutchison, taking up his stand immediately behind Elfie, who was only pausing to gather strength for a fresh resistance.
“Come in, if you please, Mr. Simmons,” called out Goldsborough.
And the parson lifted the curtain, and entered the hut.
He was a tall, thin, light-haired man, very pale, nervous and consumptive. He was evidently a captive among the guerrillas, and as evidently frightened half to death.
“Hand him the license, Mutchison. Mutchison is here in the three-fold capacity of bride’s father, bridegroom’s best man, and witness of the marriage,” said Goldsborough.
Mutchison stepped forward, and placed the license in the trembling hands of the minister, and then stepped back, and resumed his position behind Elfie.
“Now proceed, sir, if you please,” said Goldsborough.
The nervous minister unfolded and examined the license, and then put it into his pocket, from which he took a small prayer-book.
Opening the book, he commenced the marriage ceremony. And in his extreme trepidation, he commenced at the wrong end:
“‘Forasmuch as this man and this woman hath consented—’”