Chapter XXX: Too Late!

Rensslaer appeared immediately after breakfast next morning in Connaught Square, and Gay, warmly congratulating him on his victories, heard that the result of the great show worked out in cups, championships, and prizes in the following order:

England, 16 cups & championships, 91 1st prizes.
U. States 2 " " 14 "
France -- " " 1 "
Belgium -- " " 1 "
Holland 1 " " -- "
Canada -- " " 2 "

"And everyone thought the Belgian champions were going to sweep the board!" cried Gay. "After all, the foreigner by no means had it all his own way, for of the three champion cups awarded, two were secured by a Kentish man, the third going to America."

"It was a good show," said Rensslaer, looking very pleased, as well he might, but, though Gay did not know it, more on her account than his own; it was not to rejoice over his own triumphs, but to share _her_ happiness that he had called thus early. But as she gave no sign, he offered no congratulations, and they chatted about the Show for awhile, agreeing that the keenest competitions, both from the international aspect, and that of individual merit, were undoubtedly the high jump, and the four-in-hands, and he told her that they hoped to persuade the Italians to come over to the next Horse Show, adding that they were the finest riders in the world.

Gay nodded.

"Captain Bulteel says that never before have so many high-class animals been on show in this or any other country. You must be awfully proud, Mr. Rensslaer. You were certainly one of the most popular of the exhibitors, and your successes were cheered to the echo."

"I will venture to offer you the pick of my horses for your wedding present," he said, and Gay coloured brilliantly; how on earth could he know already of her engagement?

"I am very glad," he said warmly, and got up and went over to her, kissing her little hand so beautifully that she felt sure he _had_ often done it before.

"He is the best fellow in the world," said Rensslaer. "I never saw two people more exactly suited to each other. His giving up what is really a passion with him, is a proof not only of his great love for you, but a moral victory, revealing the real strength of his character."

"Oh, he never really cared for it," said Gay in some surprise, "and you see he had to give it up, whether he liked it or not."

Rensslaer was silent, a little chilled and disappointed. Surely this was not the Gay that he thought he knew....

"I think you will like the house," he said. "It is very quaint and old--some distance from Elsinore, but within the park--"

Gay looked at him, astonished.

"Has he spoken to you already about a new country place?" she said. "Carlton has several, you know, but no house in town.

"_Carlton?_"

"Why, who else are we talking about?" exclaimed Gay in astonishment, but she had gone rather pale.

"Of Chris Hannen, of course."

"Why of course?"

Gay's brows were raised; some of the hot anger that burned in her against Chris overnight, burned still.

"Because you love him," said Rensslaer quietly.

"Love him? Love a man who doesn't even see me if a horse is around--who is deaf, dumb as a stock-fish, blind to everything save an animal that can jump?"

Unconsciously Gay had put up two distracted hands to her face in the precise attitude of Rensslaer's "Little Mermaid," but it was indignation, not grief, that distorted her features.

"What has the boy done?" inquired Rensslaer in astonishment.

"Done? All the passion that is _in_ him goes into horses--and where do _I_ come in? Better a thousand times Carlton Mackrell's devotion! Oh, he wasn't afraid to sacrifice himself for my pleasure! There's a grain of romance in him somewhere, to do what he did--and Chris without a qualm, sacrifices _me_."

"But does he?" said Rensslaer, getting up from his chair, and walking, more perturbed than Gay had ever seen him, about the room.

"_Does_ he?" said Gay witheringly. "Oh, it was bad enough right through the Show--there was thunder in the air all along--but things came to a head last night with the high jump competition." She paused to smile ruefully as the suitability of her comparison struck her. "He forgot my very existence--didn't even _hear_ when I spoke to him!"

Rensslaer shook his head, tried to get in a word edgeways, but failed; Gay was wound up, and meant to go on.

"Oh, I can speak to you!" she cried passionately. "You will understand, as some men can't, how last night in a sudden revulsion of feeling, I turned from selfish Chris to devoted Carlton, who was looking at me, thinking of me only, as always--he had never presented his little bill--well, I would honour it to the full, even before it was presented. If Chris had looked at me then ... but he did not. When I got up, and we went out to the stables, it was all over really, and outside one of those preposterous chiffon stalls Carlton asked me, and I said--'Yes.'"

"It's all right," said Rensslaer consolingly, "only you said 'Yes' to the wrong man. Now, if you had waited a little longer--"

"A little longer! Hasn't this Horse Show been going on for a week, and has Chris Hannen had one thought, one word, when jumping was on, for me?"

"He was charming to you whenever I saw you," said Rensslaer. "You seemed completely happy together, and admirably well suited, as always."

"So we are--were, I mean," said Gay.

"And I think St. Swithin's, with congenial work among my horses, would have suited Mr. Hannen very well," said Rensslaer quietly. "No steeplechasing, of course--that was in the bond--but plenty of legitimate riding."

"I don't understand," faltered Gay, but all the same she was beginning to do so, to realise what her mad fit of temper had cost her.

"He couldn't help being interested in the jumping right through--he has never seen anything like it before--and he rides magnificently himself--I believe could have done anything the others did. Naturally he didn't want to miss a single point of horsemanship, or any foreign wrinkle--and can you blame him? He was watching others do what he knew he would never have the chance to do--what he longed intensely to do only he loved you more."

"More?" said Gay faintly, and into the young face that he had first seen so careless and happy, came a look of misery that pierced Rensslaer's tender heart.

"Yes. I offered him a thousand a year, and a house at Elsinore, on condition he gave up steeplechasing, and he came to me last night after the Show, and said he accepted my offer, and was coming this morning to tell you, and ask you to marry him. You had left, or I feel sure he would have asked you then."

"Oh, poor Chris!" breathed the girl, her arms falling to her sides, her grey eyes looking straight before her.

"No--poor Mackrell," said Rensslaer quietly, "for you will be doing him a great wrong if you marry him, loving the other man as you do. And I don't wonder"--he smiled--"for Chris Hannen is the nicest boy I ever knew. Tell Mackrell it's all a mistake, and as a man of honour he must at once release you."

"I never break my word," said Gay. "A pretty rotten sportswoman I should be if I did. If Chris came straight to me on leaving Elsinore, and talked of nothing but your shooting, without saying a word of the splendid chance you had given him, he deserves to suffer for such criminal carelessness as regards his own welfare, and my happiness--"

"He will," said Rensslaer drily--"so will you, for I'm afraid the aimless sort of existence Mackrell lives, won't appeal to you at all, unless you live abroad, and he goes in seriously for Trotting."

"As if I would leave Frank like that!" cried Gay indignantly. "Of course it will be a long engagement--years and years!"

Rensslaer smiled. In that case Chris, who was no laggard in anything he undertook, might be trusted to readjust the position, but that there would be a stiff tussle over the girl there was no manner of doubt.

She looked worth any man's love in the short skirt, striped cambric shirt, and mannish tie that she affected of mornings, her eyes full of battle, and her heart of trouble. Then she made a great effort, and pulled herself together.

"I am very selfish," she said, "and have not half congratulated you on all your successes. It was very very wonderful, of course, but I'd rather have that afternoon at Elsinore over again--the peace, the loveliness--I was thinking of it the whole time at Olympia."

"It is waiting for you," said Rensslaer quietly, "and as often as you like, when you come to live at St. Swithin's Court--"

Gay turned aside, to hide the tears that rushed to her eyes at the thought of all she had thrown away, and at that moment the door opened to admit Lossie, who was deathly pale, waiting with ill-disguised impatience for Rensslaer to make his farewells, and depart. Left together, the two girls faced each other, but it was Lossie who spoke first.

"It isn't true?"

"What is not true?"

"That Carlton asked you last night, that you said 'Yes'--Oh! I saw it in his eyes--in yours--"

"It is true."

"Oh, my God!" cried Lossie, and beat her hands together. "You are doing a great wrong to yourself and Chris--ruining your own life, and breaking two men's hearts--you and Carlton are utterly unsuited to each other--and all for a bit of temper--because Chris paid more attention to the horses at the Show, than he did to you!"

"Well, it's done," said Gay, voice and eyes dull, "and it can't be undone."

"But it can! Do you suppose Carlton will take what has been flung to him in a moment of pique--like a bone to a dog? Doesn't he deserve to be loved just as much--and more--than Chris does? Oh! he could love a million times better--you have never troubled to sound the depths of his heart--and you are committing a cruel wrong--a crime even--if you go to him, knowing that you love Chris!"

"Come to my den," said Gay sharply. "Carlton may be here at any moment, and must not find us quarrelling over him," and she led the way, followed hastily by a woman who had lost all regard for appearances, and who in her godless selfishness recognised no rights but those of her passions.

"It is not a matter for your decision or mine," said Gay, when the door was shut, "but for Carlton. If he holds me to my promise, I shall keep it."

"But you'll tell him that you love Chris?" cried Lossie eagerly.

Gay shook her head. She was very angry with Chris, and his playing the laggard that morning, was the finishing stroke to his utter inconsiderateness and folly. She deeply resented his having spoken to Rensslaer first, accepting his offer, and thereby taking it for granted that she was ready to fall into his arms--Gay forgot that she had given him no chance of doing so, as she had left the building before the performance was over.

With a sudden womanly comprehension, born of her own pain, she turned to her cousin, no radiant apparition as of yesterday, but trembling, haggard, dishevelled almost in her excitement and agony, yet more beautiful than ever in that abandonment.

"I wish he loved you, Lossie," cried Gay breathlessly. "I do wish it with all my heart, and it is quite true what you say--that you are much better suited to him than I am."

"Give me the chance," cried Lossie, clasping her hands together in desperate entreaty. "He can't know how I love, how I _adore_ him; if he did, and that just as I love him, you love Chris, he couldn't help loving _me_."

"But I don't love Chris like that," protested Gay, shrinking a little from this woman whose eyes, lips, voice were passion incarnate; instinctively she knew that a man prefers to find most of the vehemence himself....

A servant knocked at the door, and announced that Mr. Mackrell was in the drawing-room, and the impulse, swift as a bird's homing flight, that took Lossie half-way across the room to go to him, startled Gay--just so would she have sped to Chris had all been well between them--and had not love his rights; was not Rensslaer only but now insisting on them?

"Lossie," she said, "if you can convince Carlton that your love will make him happier than my"--she hesitated--"affection can, go to him now."

But Lossie, turning even whiter, trembled, and shook her head.

"I daren't," she said in a whisper, "it must come from you. He would never forgive me--only if you were Chris's wife, I might have a chance.... Oh, Gay, I've been a beast to you often, but you've had all the luck, and I've had none"--she was like a passionate child clamouring for the toy that she coveted, thought her cousin, it was a bright, expensive toy that Gay did not want herself, she only wanted her dear old rag doll, for so she at that moment absurdly designated Chris.

"Carlton must decide," she said, and went with lagging steps to the drawing-room, where her lover very quickly _did_, for he stepped up close, held her fast, and kissed her--kissed her like a man who had long starved for that moment, and could not take enough.

As she tore herself away, she could have wept to think that the first kiss of her lips was not for Chris, and the contrast of Carlton, supremely handsome and happy, with the girl she had just left, revolted her. Her voice was strange as she said,

"Will you go to my den? I will follow you there immediately," and turned aside that he might not see her face.

He coloured with disappointment and surprise, but of course there would be greater privacy there... Without a word he went.

As the door closed him in with Lossie, Chris came flying up the stairs, taking three steps at a time, a young god in his swiftness, strength and joy, bringing all the best gifts that life and love can bring to the beloved woman--too late.