The days that followed were days of torture to Elizabeth Blair. It was as if Blair could think of nothing but Alabaster and the famous match. It got out among the betting fraternity which infests every racing community that Blair had a superstitious faith in the black horse, and thereupon they beset him. Blair, in the coolest, most rational, and self-possessed way in the world, would give the most extraordinary odds, secretly goaded by the general disposition in favour of Jaybird. At home it seemed as if he had but one idea, and that was Alabaster. He was at the stables by dawn of day to see if the horse was all right, and the last thing he did at night was always to take a lantern and go into the horse’s stall and examine everything carefully.
The creature, with tawny, vicious eyes, would back his ears and glare at him, pawing the ground and occasionally hitting a thundering blow with his hoof against the wooden partition of the stall. His coat was satin smooth. The black hostler declared solemnly: “Dat hoss, he see evils, I know he do. Sometimes, in de middle o’ de night, I heah him whinnyin’ an’ gwine on, an’ den he kick wid he hine foots; dat’s a sho’ sign.�
One night Blair came in the house, where Mrs. Blair sat in the dimly lighted drawing-room, with Mary and Hilary beside her listening to her sweet talk, and, coming up to her, said, with pale lips, “Alabaster is off his feed to-night.�
Elizabeth felt no inclination to laugh. Alabaster’s appetite for his oats was of great importance to everybody at Newington then. Blair sat down heavily. His pallor and distress were so great that it moved Elizabeth to go to him and put her arms tenderly about him.
“Dearest,� she said, “no matter how it goes, try—try—to give this up. See how much misery it has brought into our married life! It is well enough for men like Richard Skelton, to whom money is nothing, but to you it is different. Think of me—think of our children.�
“Yes, I know,� answered Blair drearily. “Here am I, an educated man, a gentleman, and I swear I spend more time in the society of stablemen and jockeys than anywhere else. It has brought me and mine to beggary almost, and yet—and yet, if Alabaster wins, as he must, it would be a shame not to make some more money out of him; and if he does not, it will be the purest, cursedest luck in the world—the creature has got it in him.� And then Blair’s face softened, and he took her hand, and said; “Do you know, Elizabeth, there is for me no pleasure on earth so great as that of getting the better of Skelton? and for that you must thank your own sweet self. The only woman he ever wanted to marry I took away from him; the only sport he cares for I have sometimes got the better of him. Now he thinks to ruin me on the turf, but Alabaster’s swift feet will save us yet, my girl.�
Elizabeth said nothing, but turned away, sighing.
The strain upon Mrs. Blair’s mind reacted upon her body. She became weak and bloodless, and entirely lost her appetite. She went about, silent as to her sufferings, but deathly pale, and Blair noticed with alarm that she not only did not eat but could not sleep. She persisted gently that nothing ailed her, and would not agree to see a doctor; but Blair became more distressed every day at her pallor and weakness. One night, on opening his wife’s door, he saw her sitting at the window looking out into the dim, moonless night at the river that flowed darkly. Her attitude was so dejected that Blair was cut to the heart.
“Elizabeth,� he said, “tell me—tell me, what is it that is wearing your life away?�
“Alabaster,� answered Elizabeth, with a half smile.