Sylvia hesitated for a moment. Blair hung upon her words. She was serious enough now. Her lips moved once or twice as she patted the grass with her foot. Of course, it was all over, that childish romance about Skelton. She was now a young woman nearly out of her twenties, and he was nearing his fortieth birthday; and, besides, she had nothing to do with any rivalry on the turf between him and Mr. Blair, nor did she believe that Alabaster was as certain to carry everything before him as Blair thought. But--but--she recoiled from being the means of a possible defeat to Skelton. She knew well enough that there was great feeling on both sides in these matters between Blair and Skelton, and she knew Skelton to be unforgiving to the last degree. She raised her clear grey eyes to Blair’s face, but the expression on it made her turn a little pale. It was not only fiercely entreating, but it had a menace in it. Blair, indeed, felt a savage impulse to seize this slight creature and actually force her to let him have the horse. But the pity that dwells in every woman’s heart now rose in Sylvia’s. She felt so sorry for him--he had told her he would be ruined if he did not get Alabaster; so, after a few moments, painful on both sides, Sylvia suddenly held out her hand, and said: “Yes, you may have him.” Blair seized her hands and kissed them. His face changed to something like what it usually was. Sylvia’s eyes were full of tears; she realised that he was really ruined then, although Blair spoke of Alabaster as destined to prevent it. Blair was so eager, that he had to take the horse home with him. Sylvia walked slowly back to the house through the old-fashioned garden, while Blair, in triumph, rode home, leading his treasure. He made Hilary go with the horse to the stable, while he went in the house. He felt the need of rest--he, this great, strong country squire felt a nervous reaction after the singular excitement of the morning. “Elizabeth,” he said to his wife, “you accused me of looking at Sylvia Shapleigh too often. Let me tell you something. I never felt an impulse of violence towards a woman in my life until this morning. But when I saw her standing before me so unconcerned and smiling, and making up her mind so deliberately about the horse, I declare to you, I longed to--to seize her and throttle her until she came to her senses and agreed to let me have the horse. There is destiny in this. I wouldn’t so have longed for the creature if there were not something quite out of the usual run of events connected with him.”