He regarded this gift as an absolute wrong to him, while he was compelled in pay the note out of his own share. He went home from Riverlawn that day choking down his anger; but he was furious in the presence of his wife, though she did all she could to console him. She pointed out the fact that he now owned his place clear of any debt, and had twenty thousand dollars in cash, stocks, and bonds; but he was not satisfied. He wanted Riverlawn, where he could live in style, with an abundant income without work. As he brooded over his fancied wrong, it came to his mind that the colonel's _ante-mortem_ inventory had not included the value of the negroes on the plantation. He hastened over to see Colonel Cosgrove, the executor. He exhibited a copy of the will, and Titus studied over it for half a day. Nothing was said about the slaves. Then he went to another lawyer with whom he had had some political dealings; but this gentleman assured him that he had no remedy; the colonel had an undoubted right to dispose of his property as he pleased, even if he had given the whole of it to Noah. He had bequeathed the plantation, the mansion, with all that was in or on them, or appertaining to them; and this included the negroes. For nearly two years Titus had nursed his wrath, and was earnest in his belief that Noah ought to right the wrong the colonel had done him. Yet he had never had the courage to make this claim upon his brother, or even to mention to him the five thousand dollars which he insisted belonged to him. The law could do nothing for him, his own lawyer told him. Noah was his brother, now his only brother; and it was his duty, according to every principle of right and justice, to pay over to him half of the legacy of ten thousand dollars, and of the twenty-five thousand dollars which was a low valuation of the negro property. The quantity of Kentucky whiskey which Titus consumed magnified his wrongs and made him more unreasonable than his natural discontent would have made him. When he learned from his younger son what his wife had told Mrs. Noah, he was more furious than he had ever been known to be before, and he descended to the brutality of striking her. He had taken more than his habitual potion of whiskey, and it made him ugly. His wife wept bitterly over the abuse she had been subjected to, both the words and the blow, and she had fled to her bedroom.