But he turned up at Mackrell's wedding in December, and if each man surprised in the other's eyes, a look that told how to both there might be many women, but only one Gay, and Chris suspected a supreme renunciation in Carlton's taking Lossie as the only way to Gay's happiness, he had no idea of screwing himself up a second time to the sacrifice of all he held most dear. Gay made a delightful bridesmaid, and Chris was the smartest, most sought after man there. He had always the air, the gay address, the charm of one of Charles Lever's adventurous heroes, belonged more to past times than present ones, and Gay, defiantly flirting on her own account, was appalled to see how easily and naturally he could flirt also--with one very lovely young married woman in particular, who had long tried to annex him. If he took a savage delight in paying Gay back in her own coin, inflicting a little of the pain on her that she had inflicted on him, was it not very natural--though not natural to Chris? The most lovable nature is the easiest ruined, the most unmalleable, when it has once turned against what it loves. Whether it were that having made his one grand renunciation in vain, Chris felt himself incapable of rising again to such heights of self-sacrifice, or that the capacity to love, as he had once loved, was forever scourged out of him by Gay's failure to him at a supreme moment, the fact remained that he could not, and never meant to forgive her. She had belonged to Carlton first; it was Carlton who had had the first kiss from her soft young lips, and many others. Chris could not know that all the kissing had been on one side only, and very little of that--the tactics Gay had practised when she desired to ward off Carlton's proposals, were equally successful in preventing his enjoying the privileges of an accepted suitor. The world, looking on at the meeting between Chris and Gay, said that between two stools she had fallen to the ground, that she had been a fool to be cut out by her cousin, and what was worse, it pitied her.... She had made a complete failure of Trotting, (her horses were sold, and the sport was quite given up), of matrimony, of everything, said that same world, but Min Toplady rejoiced to see the light come back to her darling's eyes, the spring to her step, and the merry ring to her laugh, to know her prettier, happier than she had been for months past, her perpetual anxiety about Chris's precious neck notwithstanding. Rensslaer too was satisfied. St. Swithin's still waited, the post he had offered Chris was open still--so was Gay's heart, and all would come right in time.... But months ran by, and it did not.