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. Charlie and Catharine went to Edinburgh for their honeymoon; and when they returned to Balquhalloch, the castle settled down once more into its normal condition of peace and quietness. Tom and the Princess spent much of their time in the library, working hard at the family history; and the young couple, with nothing to worry them, and only themselves to think about, passed a delightful existence, which seemed as if it could never become wearisome. But matters could not go on for ever in this way. The Princess in time began to ask Charlie about his plans. ‘Will arms be required?’ she wanted to know. ‘Will there be uniforms for the troops? What hope is there of foreign assistance? Can the officers and men throughout the country be bribed?’ And above all, ‘When are you going to rise and strike for your rights?’ In short, the situation threatened to become critical. And when, nearly a year after his wedding, Charlie found himself the proud father of a boy, he realised that he must either act, or permit his good aunt to scorn him as a weak-kneed, cowardly shadow of a king. The auspicious event caused the Princess to be unusually active. She desired, ere the grand stroke should be dealt, to be in a position to publish abroad a full and complete pedigree, tracing the descent of the Stuarts of Balquhalloch from the royal Stuarts of Scotland; and hearing that a number of old records bearing upon the question were for sale in London, she despatched Tom Checkstone thither with _carte blanche_ to buy whatever he could lay his hands upon. Tom was absent for ten days; and when he reappeared, he had with him a large chest full of dusty, mouldy, discoloured documents. These treasures were conveyed to the library, and for a week the Princess almost lived among them. One day Charlie and Catharine, who was now convalescent, were sitting at luncheon, when, without warning, the Princess burst into the room. She was very violently excited. Her gray hair had fallen loose, her cheeks were pallid, and her hands were clenched convulsively. ‘What is the matter?’ exclaimed Charlie and Catharine, both rising together and rushing to support their aunt. ‘Matter!’ she cried—‘matter?’ and she began to weep hysterically. ‘Tell me,’ implored Catharine. ‘What can we do?’