Well, among all these suitors I favoured Jan Botmar, the old cripple who
sits yonder, though in those days he was no cripple but the properest
man a girl could wish to see. My father was against such a match, for
he had the old French pride of race in him, and thought little of the
Botmar family, as though we were not all the children of one God--except
the black Kaffirs, who are the children of the devil. But in the end he
gave way, for Jan was well-to-do; so after we had "opsitted" together
several times according to our customs, and burnt many very long
candles,[*] we were married and went to live on a farm of our own at a
distance. For my part I have never regretted it, although doubtless I
might have done much better for myself; and if Jan did, he has been wise
enough not to say so to me. In this country most of us women must choose
a man to look after--it is a burden that Heaven lays upon us--so one
may as well choose him one fancies, and Jan was my fancy, though why he
should have been I am sure I do not know. Well, if he had any wits left
he would speak up and tell what a blessing I have been to him, and how
often my good sense has supplied the lack of his, and how I forgave him,
yes, and helped him out of the scrape when he made a fool of himself
with--but I will not write of that, for it makes me angry, and as likely
as not I should throw something at him before I had finished, which he
would not understand.

[*] It is customary among the Boers for the suitor to sit up
alone at night with the object of his choice. Should the
lady favour him, she lights long candles, but if he does not
please her she produces "ends," signifying thereby that she
prefers his room to his company.--Author.

No, no; I do not regret it, and, what is more, when my man dies I shall