Netta once read through the marriage service years ago.  She had forgotten it, and would have read it again, but she did not take away either her Bible or prayer book when she fled from her home, and did not like to ask Howel to buy her one.  Now, as the clergyman continues his exhortation, the words sound to her as some solemn and wonderful address spoken for her alone.  She listens in spite of a multitude of feelings that are struggling within her, and is struck with fear when she is adjured to confess, if there is any impediment to her being lawfully wedded.  She knows that her father’s anger and her mother’s sorrow are broad impediments in her road to happiness.

Her hand trembles, as he who holds the office that offended father ought to hold, takes it and places it in that of the clergyman It trembles still more as she hears the question put to her concerning her future conduct to him, so soon to be her husband, and to think she must audibly respond.  Howel has already answered firmly and boldly, and she strives to say the final, ‘I will,’ firmly too, but her voice falters; she is too much absorbed in her own emotions to notice how carelessly and thoughtlessly Howel repeats his solemn promise to her after the clergyman, but she feels him press her hand and is reassured.  Tremblingly, but in all earnestness of purpose, she makes her vow to ‘love, cherish, and obey’ him whom she has resolutely chosen for her husband; and, as if touched by her manner, and by the searching glance of the clergyman, Howel becomes more serious as he places the ring on her finger and repeats the last words in those great and awful names, which it is sin to utter but with humility and prayer.

Truly, as they kneel before the altar to receive the final blessing of the clergyman, they are a sight for much joy or much grief.  Who shall say what the end will be?  Two human beings joined in one to all eternity!

As that prayer and blessing are being spoken, a bright flash of lightning darts through the church, followed by a heavy peal of thunder; suddenly a great gloom fills the sacred edifice, and a storm of hail and rain dashes against the windows.

Poor Netta is superstitious and as easily frightened as a child; she starts and gives an involuntary little cry as the lightning flashes before her eyes, and the thunder seems to shake her as she kneels.  She turns paler and paler as the storm continues, and can scarcely hear the concluding psalms, prayers, and exhortation, for her fear of the lightning which fitfully and at intervals slants through the painted windows.

Stronger nerves than Netta’s have been shaken by a thunderstorm on a wedding-day.  Even Howel involuntarily quails at this evil omen, and Mrs Jenkins clasps her hands and mutters a Welsh proverb.  She and Netta had been congratulating each other on the sunshine of the morning, and such a storm was bad indeed.

However, the service proceeds, and then he who addresses the newly-married pair in God’s name, makes himself heard in spite of the pattering hail.  He seems the more impressive as he cannot but remark Howel’s frowning brow and Netta’s agitation.