He spoke with a strange fierceness, he so debonair and full of careless good humor. Elizabeth looked at him in amazement. In all their fifteen years of married life she had never seen this trait in him. He was so intense, so wrought up over the horse, that she was glad it was only a horse that excited him. Suppose it had been one of those pink-faced girls that Blair spoke of so contemptuously, but who liked his dashing manners and captivating ways only too well, Mrs. Blair thought. “But suppose, for an instant, Mr. Shapleigh won’t sell him,” persisted Elizabeth. “But he _shall_ sell him!” shouted Blair for the second time. “What does he want with him--to drive him to old lady Shapleigh’s chaise? I assure you he talks about Sylvia’s wanting to keep the horse as a riding horse. It made me grind my teeth. It would be cruel--yes, cruel, Elizabeth, if I didn’t own that horse!” Elizabeth was startled; she said nothing more about Alabaster, and Blair went off with his hands in his pockets toward Belfield, and in a little while she saw him leaning on the fence that divided the two places, as the lands came together at the river, eying the black horse that browsed about in the pasture in the late October afternoon. The red-brown pasture-land glowed in the setting sun, and the masses of gorgeous sumac that bordered the field made great dashes of colour in the landscape. A worm fence divided the two plantations, and upon this fence Blair leaned, meditatively watching the horses as they champed about the field. Elizabeth, who was far-sighted, could see him perfectly well, his stalwart and somewhat overgrown figure outlined against the twilight sky. A negro boy came through the field whistling, and singing, to drive the horses into the stable lot at Belfield. He shied a stick at Alabaster to make him move on. At that Blair sprang over the fence, and, seizing the boy, shook him so violently that Elizabeth was frightened, thinking he might really be harmed by Blair in his rage. He came home moodily, and told Elizabeth that he believed he could kill any creature that hurt an animal as valuable as Alabaster. Elizabeth believed him, after what she had just seen. Next morning Blair went over to bargain for the horse. Old Tom was disinclined to sell, and as he talked Blair grew paler and paler. At last old Tom declared that Sylvia might decide. He had told her the horse was hers. He didn’t care for the money particularly, although the horse was certainly worth a good price, and was very speedy, but if Sylvia chose to part with him it was all right.