You shall be married next week, and may you be happy in your marriage, and have children that would be a credit to me and your great-grandfather, could we have lived to see them.
"There, there, Ralph and Suzanne--the first ones, my own lost Ralph and Suzanne--will be glad to hear of this when I come to tell them of it, as I shall do shortly.

Yes, they will be glad to hear of it--" and she rose and hobbled back to the _sit-kammer_, turning at the open door to call out: "Girl, where are your manners?
Make that Scotchman some of your coffee." So we were married, and within the week, for, all my protestations notwithstanding, the Vrouw Botmar would suffer no delay.

Moreover, by means of some other interpreter, Ralph, playing traitor, secretly brought my arguments to nothing, and indeed there was a cause for hurry, for just then his regiment was ordered to return to England.
It was a strange sight, that marriage, for my great-grandmother attended it seated on the _voor-kisse_ of her best waggon drawn by eighteen white oxen, the descendants of Dingaan's royal cattle that Swart Piet stole to bring destruction upon the Umpondwana.

By her side was her husband, old Jan Botmar, whom she caused to be carried to the waggon and tied in it in his chair.

He, poor old man, knew nothing of what was passing, but from some words he let fall we gathered that he believed that he was once more starting on the great trek from the Transkei.