Captain Bertram had only one uncomfortable corner in his heart just then.  He had one little secret chamber which he kept locked, and into which, even in spirit, he never cared to enter.  Men, when they are turning over new leaves, often keep this little reserve-room of the past uncleaned, unpurified.  All else shall be swept and garnished, but this room, carefully locked, can reveal no secrets.  From its door the ghost of past evil-doing can surely not escape to confront and destroy.  So Captain Bertram thought.  He must forget Josephine; the wrong he had done her, the vows he had made to her, could never be washed out or forgiven, but in all else he would be perfect in the future.

Before he returned to Northbury for the express purpose of wooing and winning Beatrice Meadowsweet, he had written to Josephine.  In his letter he had promised to marry her; he had promised to confide all about her to his mother.  He said he should be at home for a month, and during that month he would watch his opportunity and break the news of his engagement to Josephine to his parent.  He had asked Josephine to give him a month to do this in, and he had begged of her to leave Northbury for the time, assuring her that her presence at his mother’s gates would be highly detrimental to their mutual interests.

Josephine had departed, and Bertram, after the fashion of men of his class, had almost forgotten her existence in his pursuit of a new quest.

Now he was engaged, and his wedding-bells would soon ring.  If the thought of Josephine Hart did flash now and then before his mental vision, he could only hope devoutly that she would learn nothing of his betrothal to Beatrice until after their marriage.  “She may appear then, and I may have to tell Bee everything,” he soliloquized.  “Well, well, Bee could not be hard on a fellow, and we will both do what we can for poor Josephine.  No doubt I should not have made her a good husband—­no doubt, no doubt!  Poor child—­poor, beautiful child.”  But as he said the words under his breath, Captain Bertram felt his heart beat hard and fast.  “My God—­I love her madly—­I must not think of her at all,” he murmured.  “I must not; I dare not!” He was uncomfortable, and even depressed, after these musings; and he was determined to keep the door of that chamber within him where Josephine dwelt more firmly locked than ever in the future.

When all the people concerned are of one mind on a certain point it is surprising how easily they can bring their wishes to bear fruit.  It was all important, both to Captain Bertram and his mother, that his marriage should follow his engagement with the least possible delay.

Having decided to marry him, Beatrice would allow her lover to lead her to the altar the first day he cared to do so.  Mrs. Meadowsweet was, of course, like wax in the hands of her daughter.

Accordingly, Beatrice would only be an engaged maiden for three short weeks, and on the 10th of September, before Captain Bertram’s leave expired, Northbury was to make merry over the gayest wedding it had ever been its lot to participate in.