Ere long, however, the Princess, upon her own initiative, made a proposition to which even Catharine saw no objection.
‘My dear,’ she said one morning, ‘I am getting old, and since you have been here with me, I have begun to feel that I should not like to be without you. Now I know perfectly well that Charles will be glad to stay here for the present; so, why don’t you make up your minds to marry and stay here together? When I die, the castle and everything belonging to it will be his. You need never regard yourselves, therefore, as trespassers upon my hospitality.’
‘And you really like to have me with you?’ asked Catharine.
‘Certainly, my dear.’
‘For my own sake, I mean?’ added Catharine.
‘Yes, for your own sake, and quite apart even from the fact that Charles loves you. I shall speak to him about it.’ And speak to him she did.
‘You will be quieter and better off here than in London,’ she said; ‘and you will be able to mature your plans for the future. You and Catharine shall have a separate establishment for yourselves; there is plenty of room for all of us. And if you have any hesitation on the score of money matters—which, after all, trouble the highest as well as the lowest—I may set your mind at ease, my dear Charles, by telling you that I have determined to give Catharine on her wedding-day a hundred thousand pounds by way of jointure. When I die, the rest will be yours.’
‘You are very good, aunt,’ exclaimed the king, who was fairly overcome by his relative’s liberality. ‘Yes; nowhere can we be happier than here. But let us be married quietly.’
‘By all means! Father M‘Fillan shall perform the ceremony in the chapel. Get Catharine to name a day—the sooner the better.’
Charlie talked over the matter that very evening with his sweetheart, and an arrangement was soon come to between them. The wedding was fixed for an early date; a few favoured guests were invited; and in due course Charlie and Catharine became man and wife, Tom acting as best-man, and Sandy Gordon, who, on account of his age and patriarchal beard, seemed to be peculiarly fitted for the part, giving away the bride. There was, of course, a feast for the tenantry; and the brass gun on the wall was again fired—this time until it burst; but, as the Princess regretfully said, the ceremony was not worthy of the event. It ought to have taken place at Holyrood or Westminster Abbey.