when the last good-by had been said and the last sound of wheels and hooves diedaway, scarlett went into ellen’s office and removed a gleaming object from where she had hiddenit the night before between the yellowed papers in the pigeon-holes of the secretary. hearing porksniffling in the dining room as he went about laying the table for dinner she called to him. he cameto her, his black face as forlorn as a lost and masterless hound.
“pork,” she said sternly, “you cry just once more and i’ll—i’ll cry, too. you’ve got to stop.”
“yas’m. ah try but eve’y time ah try ah thinks of mist’ gerald an’—”
“well, don’t think. i can stand everybody else’s tears but not yours. there.” she broke off gently,“don’t you see? i can’t stand yours because i know how you loved him. blow your nose, pork. i’vegot a present for you.”
a little interest flickered in pork’s eyes as he blew his nose loudly but it was more politenessthan interest.
“you remember that night you got shot robbing somebody’s hen house?”
“lawd gawd, miss scarlett! ah ain’ never—”
“well, you did, so don’t lie to me about it at this late date. you remember i said i was going togive you a watch for being so faithful?”
“yas’m, ah ‘members. ah figgered you’d done fergot.”
“no, i didn’t forget and here it is.”
she held out for him a massive gold watch, heavily embossed, from which dangled a chain withmany fobs and seals.
“fo’ gawd, miss scarlett!” cried pork. “dat’s mist’ gerald’s watch! ah done seen him look atdat watch a milyun times!”
“yes, it’s pa’s watch, pork, and i’m giving it to you. take it.”
“oh, no’m!” pork retreated in horror. “dat’s a w’ite gempmum’s watch an’ mist’ gerald’s terboot. huccome you talk ‘bout givin’ it ter me, miss scarlett? dat watch belong by rights ter lilwade hampton.”
“it belongs to you. what did wade hampton ever do for pa? did he look after him when he wassick and feeble? did he bathe him and dress him and shave him? did he stick by him when theyankees came? did he steal for him? don’t be a fool, pork. if ever anyone deserved a watch, youdo, and i know pa would approve. here.”
she picked up the black hand and laid the watch in the palm. pork gazed at it reverently andslowly delight spread over his face.
“fer me, truly, miss scarlett?”
“yes, indeed.”
“well’m—thankee, ma’m.”
“would you like for me to take it to atlanta and have it engraved?”
“whut’s dis engrabed mean?” pork’s voice was suspicious.
“it means to put writing on the back of it, like—like ‘to pork from the o’haras—well donegood and faithful servant.’ ”
“no’m—thankee. ma’m. never mind de engrabin’.” pork retreated a step, clutching the watchfirmly.
a little smile twitched her lips.
“what’s the matter, pork? don’t you trust me to bring it back?”
“yas’m, ah trus’es you—only, well’m, you mout change yo’ mind.”
“i wouldn’t do that.”
“well’m, you mout sell it. ah spec it’s wuth a heap.”
“do you think i’d sell pa’s watch?”
“yas’m—ef you needed de money.”
“you ought to be beat for that, pork. i’ve a mind to take the watch back.”
“no’m, you ain’!” the first faint smile of the day showed on pork’s grief-worn face. “ah knowsyou— an’ miss scarlett—”
“yes, pork?”
“ef you wuz jes’ half as nice ter w’ite folks as you is ter niggers, ah spec de worl’ would treatyou better.”
“it treats me well enough,” she said. “now, go find mr. ashley and tell him i want to see himhere, right away.”
ashley sat on ellen’s little writing chair, his long body dwarfing the frail bit of furniture whilescarlett offered him a half-interest in the mill. not once did his eyes meet hers and he spoke noword of interruption. he sat looking down at his hands, turning them over slowly, inspecting firstpalms and then backs, as though he had never seen them before. despite hard work, they were stillslender and sensitive looking and remarkably well tended for a farmer’s hands.
his bowed head and silence disturbed her a little and she redoubled her efforts to make the millsound attractive. she brought to bear, too, all the charm of smile and glance she possessed but theywere wasted, for he did not raise his eyes. if he would only look at her! she made no mention ofthe information will had given her of ashley’s determination to go north and spoke with the outward assumption that no obstacle stood in the way of his agreement with her plan. still he didnot speak and finally, her words trailed into silence. there was a determined squareness about hisslender shoulders that alarmed her. surely he wouldn’t refuse! what earthly reason could he havefor refusing?
“ashley,” she began again and paused. she had not intended using her pregnancy as anargument, had shrunk from the thought of ashley even seeing her so bloated and ugly, but as herother persuasions seemed to have made no impression, she decided to use it and her helplessnessas a last card.
“you must come to atlanta. i do need your help so badly now, because i can’t look after themills. it may be months before i can because—you see—well, because ...”
“please!” he said roughly. “good god, scarlett!”
he rose and went abruptly to the window and stood with his back to her, watching the solemnsingle file of ducks parade across the barnyard.
“is that—is that why you won’t look at me?” she questioned forlornly. “i know i look—”
he swung around in a flash and his gray eyes met hers with an intensity that made her hands goto her throat.
“damn your looks!” he said with a swift violence. “you know you always look beautiful to me.”
happiness flooded her until her eyes were liquid with tears.
“how sweet of you to say that! for i was so ashamed to let you see me—”
“you ashamed? why should you be ashamed? i’m the one to feel shame and i do. if it hadn’tbeen for my stupidity you wouldn’t be in this fix. you’d never have married frank. i should neverhave let you leave tara last winter. oh, fool that i was! i should have known you—known youwere desperate, so desperate that you’d—i should have—i should have—” his face went haggard.
scarlett’s heart beat wildly. he was regretting that he had not run away with her!
“the least i could have done was go out and commit highway robbery or murder to get the taxmoney for you when you had taken us in as beggars. oh, i messed it up all the way around!”
her heart contracted with disappointment and some of the happiness went from her, for thesewere not the words she hoped to hear.
“i would have gone anyway,” she said tiredly. “i couldn’t have let you do anything like that. andanyway, it’s done now.”
“yes, it’s done now,” he said with slow bitterness. “you wouldn’t have let me do anythingdishonorable but you would sell yourself to a man you didn’t love—and bear his child, so that myfamily and i wouldn’t starve. it was kind of you to shelter my helplessness.”
the edge in his voice spoke of a raw, unhealed wound that ached within him and his wordsbrought shame to her eyes. he was swift to see it and his face changed to gentleness.
“you didn’t think i was blaming you? dear god, scarlett! no. you are the bravest woman i’veever known. it’s myself i’m blaming.”
he turned and looked out of the window again and the shoulders presented to her gaze did notlook quite so square. scarlett waited a long moment in silence, hoping that ashley would return tothe mood in which he spoke of her beauty, hoping he would say more words that she couldtreasure. it had been so long since she had seen him and she had lived on memories until they wereworn thin. she knew he still loved her. that fact was evident, in every line of him, in every bitter,self-condemnatory word, in his resentment at her bearing frank’s child. she so longed to hear himsay it in words, longed to speak words herself that would provoke a confession, but she dared not.
she remembered her promise given last winter in the orchard, that she would never again throwherself at his head. sadly she knew that promise must be kept if ashley were to remain near her.
one cry from her of love and longing, one look that pleaded for his arms, and the matter would besettled forever. ashley would surely go to new york. and he must not go away.
“oh, ashley, don’t blame yourself! how could it be your fault? you will come to atlanta andhelp me, won’t you?”
“no.”
“but, ashley,” her voice was beginning to break with anguish and disappointment, “but i’dcounted on you. i do need you so. frank can’t help me. he’s so busy with the store and if you don’tcome i don’t know where i can get a man! everybody in atlanta who is smart is busy with his ownaffairs and the others are so incompetent and—”
“it’s no use, scarlett.”
“you mean you’d rather go to new york and live among yankees than come to atlanta?”
“who told you that?” he turned and faced her, faint annoyance wrinkling his forehead.
“will.”
“yes, i’ve decided to go north. an old friend who made the grand tour with me before the warhas offered me a position in his father’s bank. it’s better so, scarlett. i’d be no good to you. i knownothing of the lumber business.”
“but you know less about banking and it’s much harder! and i know i’d make far moreallowances for your inexperience than yankees would!”
he winced and she knew she had said the wrong thing. he turned and looked out of the windowagain.
“i don’t want allowances made for me. i want to stand on my own feet for what i’m worth.
what have i done with my life, up till now? it’s time i made something of myself—or went downthrough my own fault. i’ve been your pensioner too long already.”
“but i’m offering you a half-interest in the mill, ashley! you would be standing on your ownfeet because—you see, it would be your own business.”
“it would amount to the same thing. i’d not be buying the half-interest i’d be taking it as a giftand i’ve taken too many gifts from you already, scarlett—food and shelter and even clothes formyself and melanie and the baby. and i’ve given you nothing in return.”
“oh, but you have! will couldn’t have—”
“i can split kindling very nicely now.”
“oh, ashley!” she cried despairingly, tears in her eyes at the jeering note in his voice. “what hashappened to you since i’ve been gone? you sound so hard and bitter! you didn’t used to be thisway.”
“what’s happened? a very remarkable thing, scarlett. i’ve been thinking. i don’t believe i reallythought from the time of the surrender until you went away from here. i was in a state ofsuspended animation and it was enough that i had something to eat and a bed to lie on. but whenyou went to atlanta, shouldering a man’s burden, i saw myself as much less than a man—muchless, indeed, than a woman. such thoughts aren’t pleasant to live with and i do not intend to livewith them any longer. other men came out of the war with less than i had, and look at them now.
so i’m going to new york.”
“but—i don’t understand! if it’s work you want, why won’t atlanta do as well as new york?
and my mill—”
“no, scarlett this is my last chance. i’ll go north. if i go to atlanta and work for you, i’m lostforever.”
the word “lost—lost—lost” dinged frighteningly in her heart like a death bell sounding. hereyes went quickly to his but they were wide and crystal gray and they were looking through herand beyond her at some fate she could not see, could not understand.
“lost? do you mean—have you done something the atlanta yankees can get you for? i mean,about helping tony get away or—or— oh, ashley, you aren’t in the ku klux, are you?”
his remote eyes came back to her swiftly and he smiled a brief smile that never reached hiseyes.
“i had forgotten you were so literal. no, it’s not the yankees i’m afraid of. i mean if i go toatlanta and take help from you again, i bury forever any hope of ever standing alone.”
“oh,” she sighed in quick relief, “if it’s only that!
“yes,” and he smiled again, the smile more wintry than before. “only that. only my masculinepride, my self-respect and, if you choose to so call it, my immortal soul.”
“but,” she swung around on another tack, “you could gradually buy the mill from me and itwould be your own and then—”
“scarlett,” he interrupted fiercely, “i tell you, no! there are other reasons.”
“what reasons?”
“you know my reasons better than anyone in the world.”
“oh—that? but—that’ll be all right,” she assured swiftly. “i promised, you know, out in theorchard, last winter and i’ll keep my promise and—”
“then you are surer of yourself than i am. i could not count on myself to keep such a promise. ishould not have said that but i had to make you understand. scarlett, i will not talk of this anymore. it’s finished. when will and suellen marry, i am going to new york.”
his eyes, wide and stormy, met hers for an instant and then he went swiftly across the room. hishand was on the door knob. scarlett stared at him in agony. the interview was ended and she hadlost. suddenly weak from the strain and sorrow of the last day and the present disappointment, hernerves broke abruptly and she screamed: “oh, ashley!” and, flinging herself down on the saggingsofa, she burst into wild crying.
she heard his uncertain footsteps leaving the door and his helpless voice saying-her name overand over above her head. there was a swift pattering of feet racing up the hall from the kitchen andmelanie burst into the room, her eyes wide with alarm.
“scarlett ... the baby isn’t ... ?”
scarlett burrowed her head in the dusty upholstery and screamed again.
“ashley—he’s so mean! so doggoned mean—so hateful!”
“oh, ashley, what have you done to her?” melanie threw herself on the floor beside the sofa andgathered scarlett into her arms. “what have you said? how could you! you might bring on thebaby! there, my darling, put your head on melanie’s shoulder! what is wrong?”
“ashley—he’s so—so bullheaded and hateful!”
“ashley, i’m surprised at you! upsetting her so much and in her condition and mr. o’harahardly in his grave!”
“don’t you fuss at him!” cried scarlett illogically, raising her head abruptly from melanie’sshoulder, her coarse black hair tumbling out from its net and her face streaked with tears. “he’s gota right to do as he pleases!”
“melanie,” said ashley, his face white, “let me explain. scarlett was kind enough to offer me aposition in atlanta as manager of one of her mills—”
“manager!” cried scarlett indignantly. i offered him a half-interest and he—”
“and i told her i had already made arrangements for us to go north and she—”
“oh,” cried scarlett, beginning to sob again, “i told him and told him how much i needed him—how i couldn’t get anybody to manage the mill—how i was going to have this baby—and herefused to come! and now—now, i’ll have to sell the mill and i know i can’t get anything like agood price for it and i’ll lose money and i guess maybe we’ll starve, but he won’t care. he’s somean!”
she burrowed her head back into melanie’s thin shoulder and some of the real anguish wentfrom her as a flicker of hope woke in her. she could sense that in melanie’s devoted heart she hadan ally, feel melanie’s indignation that anyone, even her beloved husband, should make scarlettcry. melanie flew at ashley like a small determined dove and pecked him for the first time in herlife.
“ashley, how could you refuse her? and after all she’s done for us! how ungrateful you makeus appear! and she so helpless now with the bab— how unchivalrous of you! she helped us whenwe needed help and now you deny her when she needs you!”
scarlett peeped slyly at ashley and saw surprise and uncertainty plain in his face as he looked into melanie’s dark indignant eyes. scarlett was surprised, too, at the vigor of melanie’s attack, forshe knew melanie considered her husband beyond wifely reproaches and thought his decisionssecond only to god’s.
“melanie ...” he began and then threw out his hands helplessly.
“ashley, how can you hesitate? think what she’s done for us—for me! i’d have died in atlantawhen beau came if it hadn’t been for her! and she—yes, she killed a yankee, defending us. didyou know that? she killed a man for us. and she worked and slaved before you and will camehome, just to keep food in our mouths. and when i think of her plowing and picking cotton, icould just— oh, my darling!” and she swooped her head and kissed scarlett’s tumbled hair infierce loyalty. “and now the first time she asks us to do something for her—”
“you don’t need to tell me what she has done for us.”
“and ashley, just think! besides helping her, just think what it’ll mean for us to live in atlantaamong our own people and not have to live with yankees! there’ll be auntie and uncle henry andall our friends, and beau can have lots of playmates and go to school. if we went north, wecouldn’t let him go to school and associate with yankee children and have pickaninnies in hisclass! we’d have to have a governess and i don’t see how we’d afford—”
“melanie,” said ashley and his voice was deadly quiet, “do you really want to go to atlanta sobadly? you never said so when we talked about going to new york. you never intimated—”
“oh, but when we talked about going to new york, i thought there was nothing for you inatlanta and, besides, it wasn’t my place to say anything. it’s a wife’s duty to go where her husbandgoes. but now that scarlett needs us so and has a position that only you can fill we can go home!
home!” her voice was rapturous as she squeezed scarlett. “and i’ll see five points again andpeachtree road and— and— oh, how i’ve missed them all! and maybe we could have a littlehome of our own! i wouldn’t care how little and tacky it was but—a home of our own!”
her eyes blazed with enthusiasm and happiness and the two stared at her, ashley with a queerstunned look, scarlett with surprise mingled with shame. it had never occurred to her that melaniemissed atlanta so much and longed to be back, longed for a home of her own. she had seemed socontented at tara it came to scarlett as a shock that she was homesick.
“oh scarlett, how good of you to plan all this for us! you knew how i longed for home!”
as usual when confronted by melanie’s habit of attributing worthy motives where no worthexisted, scarlett was ashamed and irritated, and suddenly she could not meet either ashley’s ormelanie’s eyes.
“we could get a little house of our own. do you realize that we’ve been married five years andnever had a home?”
“you can stay with us at aunt pitty’s. that’s your home,” mumbled scarlett, toying with apillow and keeping her eyes down to hide dawning triumph in them as she felt the tide turning herway.
“no, but thank you just the same, darling. that would crowd us so. we’ll get a house— oh,ashley, do say yes!”
“scarlett,” said ashley and his voice was toneless, “look at me.”
startled, she looked up and met gray eyes that were bitter and full of tired futility.
“scarlett, i will come to atlanta. ... i cannot fight you both.”
he turned and walked out of the room. some of the triumph in her heart was dulled by anagging fear. the look in his eyes when he spoke had been the same as when he said he would belost forever if he came to atlanta.
after suellen and will married and carreen went off to charleston to the convent, ashley,melanie and beau came to atlanta, bringing dilcey with them to cook and nurse. prissy and porkwere left at tara until such a time as will could get other darkies to help him in the fields and thenthey, too, would come to town.
the little brick house that ashley took for his family was on ivy street directly behind auntpitty’s house and the two back yards ran together, divided only by a ragged overgrown privethedge. melanie had chosen it especially for this reason. she said, on the first morning of her returnto atlanta as she laughed and cried and embraced scarlett and aunt pitty, she had been separatedfrom her loved ones for so long that she could never be close enough to them again.
the house had originally been two stories high but the upper floor had been destroyed by shellsduring the siege and the owner, returning after the surrender, had lacked the money to replace it.
he had contented himself with putting a flat roof on the remaining first floor which gave thebuilding the squat, disproportionate look of a child’s playhouse built of shoe boxes. the house washigh from the ground, built over a large cellar, and the long sweeping flight of stairs which reachedit made it look slightly ridiculous. but the flat, squashed look of the place was partly redeemed bythe two fine old oaks which shaded it and a dusty-leaved magnolia, splotched with white blossoms,standing beside the front steps. the lawn was wide and green with thick clover and bordering itwas a straggling, unkempt privet hedge, interlaced with sweet-smelling honeysuckle vines. hereand there in the grass, roses threw out sprangles from crushed old stems and pink and white crêpemyrtle bloomed as valiantly as if war had not passed over their heads and yankee horses gnawedtheir boughs.
scarlett thought it quite the ugliest dwelling she had ever seen but, to melanie, twelve oaks inall its grandeur had not been more beautiful. it was home and she and ashley and beau were at lasttogether under their own roof.
india wilkes came back from macon, where she and honey had lived since 1864, and took upher residence with her brother, crowding the occupants of the little house. but ashley and melaniewelcomed her. times had changed, money was scarce, but nothing had altered the rule of southernlife that families always made room gladly for indigent or unmarried female relatives.
honey had married and, so india said, married beneath her, a coarse westerner from mississippiwho had settled in macon. he had a red face and a loud voice and jolly ways. india had notapproved of the match and, not approving, had not been happy in her brother-in-law’s home. shewelcomed the news that ashley now had a home of his own, so she could remove herself fromuncongenial surroundings and also from the distressing sight of her sister so fatuously happy with a man unworthy of her.
the rest of the family privately thought that the giggling and simple-minded honey had done farbetter than could be expected and they marveled that she had caught any man. her husband was agentleman and a man of some means; but to india, born in georgia and reared in virginiatraditions, anyone not from the eastern seaboard was a boor and a barbarian. probably honey’shusband was as happy to be relieved of her company as she was to leave him, for india was noteasy to live with these days.
the mantle of spinsterhood was definitely on her shoulders now. she was twenty-five andlooked it, and so there was no longer any need for her to try to be attractive. her pale lashless eyeslooked directly and uncompromisingly upon the world and her thin lips were ever set in haughtytightness. there was an air of dignity and pride about her now that, oddly enough, became herbetter than the determined girlish sweetness of her days at twelve oaks. the position she held wasalmost that of a widow. everyone knew that stuart tarleton would have married her had he notbeen killed at gettysburg, and so she was accorded the respect due a woman who had been wantedif not wed.
the six rooms of the little house on ivy street were soon scantily furnished with the cheapestpine and oak furniture in frank’s store for, as ashley was penniless and forced to buy on credit, herefused anything except the least expensive and bought only the barest necessities. thisembarrassed frank who was fond of ashley and it distressed scarlett. both she and frank wouldwillingly have given, without any charge, the finest mahogany and carved rosewood in the store,but the wilkeses obstinately refused. their house was painfully ugly and bare and scarlett hated tosee ashley living in the uncarpeted, uncurtained rooms. but he did not seem to notice hissurroundings and melanie, having her own home for the first time since her marriage, was sohappy she was actually proud of the place. scarlett would have suffered agonies of humiliation athaving friends find her without draperies and carpets and cushions and the proper number of chairsand teacups and spoons. but melanie did the honors of her house as though plush curtains andbrocade sofas were hers.
for all her obvious happiness, melanie was not well. little beau had cost her her health, and thehard work she had done at tara since his birth had taken further toll of her strength. she was sothin that her small bones seemed ready to come through her white skin. seen from a distance,romping about the back yard with her child, she looked like a little girl, for her waist wasunbelievably tiny and she had practically no figure. she had no bust and her hips were as flat aslittle beau’s and as she had neither the pride nor the good sense (so scarlett thought) to sew rufflesin the bosom of her basque or pads on the back of her corsets, her thinness was very obvious. likeher body, her face was too thin and too pale and her silky brows, arched and delicate as abutterfly’s feelers, stood out too blackly against her colorless skin. in her small face, her eyes weretoo large for beauty, the dark smudges under them making them appear enormous, but theexpression in them had not altered since the days of her unworried girlhood. war and constant painand hard work had been powerless against their sweet tranquility. they were the eyes of a happywoman, a woman around whom storms might blow without ever ruffling the serene core of herbeing.
how did she keep her eyes that way, thought scarlett, looking at her enviously. she knew her own eyes sometimes had the look of a hungry cat. what was it rhett had said once aboutmelanie’s eyes—some foolishness about them being like candles? oh, yes, like two good deeds ina naughty world. yes, they were like candles, candles shielded from every wind, two soft lightsglowing with happiness at being home again among her friends.
the little house was always full of company. melanie had been a favorite even as a child and thetown flocked to welcome her home again. everyone brought presents for the house, bric-a-brac,pictures, a silver spoon or two, linen pillow cases, napkins, rag rugs, small articles which they hadsaved from sherman and treasured but which they now swore were of no earthly use to them.
old men who had campaigned in mexico with her father came to see her, bringing visitors tomeet “old colonel hamilton’s sweet daughter.” her mother’s old friends clustered about her, formelanie had a respectful deference to her elders that was very soothing to dowagers in these wilddays when young people seemed to have forgotten all their manners. her contemporaries, theyoung wives, mothers and widows, loved her because she had suffered what they had suffered, hadnot ‘become embittered and always lent them a sympathetic ear. the young people came, as youngpeople always come, simply because they had a good time at her home and met there the friendsthey wanted to meet.
around melanie’s tactful and self-effacing person, there rapidly grew up a clique of young andold who represented what was left of the best of atlanta’s ante-bellum society, all poor in purse, allproud in family, die-hards of the stoutest variety. it was as if atlanta society, scattered and wreckedby war, depleted by death, bewildered by change, had found in her an unyielding nucleus aboutwhich it could re-form.
melanie was young but she had in her all the qualities this embattled remnant prized, povertyand pride in poverty, uncomplaining courage, gaiety, hospitality, kindness and, above all, loyalty toall the old traditions. melanie refused to change, refused even to admit that there was any reason tochange in a changing world. under her roof the old days seemed to come back again and peopletook heart and felt even more contemptuous of the tide of wild life and high living that wassweeping the carpetbaggers and newly rich republicans along.
when they looked into her young face and saw there the inflexible loyalty to the old days, theycould forget, for a moment, the traitors within their own class who were causing fury, fear andheartbreak. and there were many such. there were men of good family, driven to desperation bypoverty, who had gone over to the enemy, become republicans and accepted positions from theconquerors, so their families would not be on charity. there were young ex-soldiers who lackedthe courage to face the long years necessary to build up fortunes. these youngsters, following thelead of rhett butter, went hand in hand with the carpetbaggers in money-making schemes ofunsavory kinds.
worst of all the traitors were the daughters of some of atlanta’s most prominent families. thesegirls who had come to maturity since the surrender had only childish memories of the war andlacked the bitterness that animated their elders. they had lost no husbands, no lovers. they hadfew recollections of past wealth and splendor— and the yankee officers were so handsome andfinely dressed and so carefree. and they gave such splendid balls and drove such fine horses andsimply worshiped southern girls! they treated them like queens and were so careful not to injure their touchy pride and, after all—why not associate with them?
they were so much more attractive than the town swains who dressed so shabbily and were soserious and worked so hard that they had little time to play. so there had been a number ofelopements with yankee officers which broke the hearts of atlanta families. there were brotherswho passed sisters on the streets and did not speak and mothers and fathers who never mentioneddaughters’ names. remembering these tragedies, a cold dread ran in the veins of those whosemotto was “no surrender”—a dread which the very sight of melanie’s soft but unyielding facedispelled. she was, as the dowagers said, such an excellent and wholesome example to the younggirls of the town. and, because she made no parade of her virtues the young girls did not resenther.
it never occurred to melanie that she was becoming the leader of a new society. she onlythought the people were nice to come to see her and to want her in their little sewing circles,cotillion clubs and musical societies. atlanta had always been musical and loved good music,despite the sneering comments of sister cities of the south concerning the town’s lack of culture,and there was now an enthusiastic resurrection of interest that grew stronger as the times grewharder and more tense. it was easier to forget the impudent black faces in the streets and the blueuniforms of the garrison while they were listening to music.
melanie was a little embarrassed to find herself at the head of the newly formed saturday nightmusical circle. she could not account for her elevation to this position except by the fact that shecould accompany anyone on the piano, even the misses mclure who were tone deaf but whowould sing duets.
the truth of the matter was that melanie had diplomatically managed to amalgamate the ladyharpists, the gentlemen’s glee club and the young ladies mandolin and guitar society with thesaturday night musical circle, so that now atlanta had music worth listening to. in fact, thecircle’s rendition of the bohemian girl was said by many to be far superior to professionalperformances heard in new york and new orleans. it was after she had maneuvered the ladyharpists into the fold that mrs. merriwether said to mrs. meade and mrs. whiting that they musthave melanie at the head of the circle. if she could get on with the harpists, she could get on withanyone, mrs. merriwether declared. that lady herself played the organ for the choir at themethodist church and, as an organist, had scant respect for harps or harpists.
melanie had also been made secretary for both the association for the beautification of thegraves of our glorious dead and the sewing circle for the widows and orphans of theconfederacy. this new honor came to her after an exciting joint meeting of those societies whichthreatened to end in violence and the severance of lifelong ties of friendship. the question hadarisen at the meeting as to whether or not weeds should be removed from the graves of the unionsoldiers near those of confederate soldiers. the appearance of the scraggly yankee moundsdefeated all the efforts of the ladies to beautify those of their own dead. immediately the fireswhich smoldered beneath tight basques flamed wildly and the two organizations split up andglared hostilely. the sewing circle was in favor of the removal of the weeds, the ladies of thebeautification were violently opposed.
mrs. meade expressed the views of the latter group when she said: “dig up the weeds off yankee graves? for two cents, i’d dig up all the yankees and throw them in the city dump!”
at these ringing words the two associations arose and every lady spoke her mind and no onelistened. the meeting was being held in mrs. merriwether’s parlor and grandpa merriwether, whohad been banished to the kitchen, reported afterwards that the noise sounded just like the openingguns of the battle of franklin. and, he added, he guessed it was a dinged sight safer to be present atthe battle of franklin than at the ladies’ meeting.
somehow melanie made her way to the center of the excited throng and somehow made herusually soft voice heard above the tumult. her heart was in her throat with fright at daring toaddress the indignant gathering and her voice shook but she kept crying: “ladies! please!” till thedin died down.
“i want to say—i mean, i’ve thought for a long time that—that not only should we pull up theweeds but we should plant flowers on— i—i don’t care what you think but every time i go to takeflowers to dear charlie’s grave, i always put some on the grave of an unknown yankee which isnear by. it—it looks so forlorn!”
the excitement broke out again in louder words and this time the two organizations merged andspoke as one.
“on yankee graves! oh, melly, how could you! “and they killed charlie!” “they almost killedyou!” “why, the yankees might have killed beau when he was born!” “they tried to burn you outof tara!”
melanie held onto the back of her chair for support, almost crumpling beneath the weight of adisapproval she had never known before.
“oh, ladies!” she cried, pleading. “please, let me finish! i know i haven’t the right to speak onthis matter, for none of my loved ones were killed except charlie, and i know where he lies, thankgod! but there are so many among us today who do not know where their sons and husbands andbrothers are buried and—”
she choked and there was a dead silence in the room.
mrs. meade’s flaming eyes went somber. she had made the long trip to gettysburg after thebattle to bring back darcy’s body but no one had been able to tell her where he was buried.
somewhere in some hastily dug trench in the enemy’s country. and mrs. allan’s mouth quivered.
her husband and brother had been on that ill-starred raid morgan made into ohio and the lastinformation she had of them was that they fell on the banks of the river, just as the yankee cavalrystormed up. she did not know where they lay. mrs. allison’s son had died in a northern prisoncamp and she, the poorest of the poor, was unable to bring his body home. there were others whohad read on casualty lists: “missing—believed dead,” and in those words had learned the last newsthey were ever to learn of men they had seen march away.
they turned to melanie with eyes that said: “why do you open these wounds again? these arethe wounds that never heal—the wounds of not knowing where they lie.”
melanie’s voice gathered strength in the stillness of the room.
“their graves are somewhere up in the yankees’ country, just like the yankee graves are here, and oh, how awful it would be to know that some yankee woman said to dig them up and—”
mrs. meade made a small, dreadful sound.
“but how nice it would be to know that some good yankee woman— and there must be somegood yankee women. i don’t care what people say, they can’t all be bad! how nice it would be toknow that they pulled weeds off our men’s graves and brought flowers to them, even if they wereenemies. if charlie were dead in the north it would comfort me to know that someone— and idon’t care what you ladies think of me,” her voice broke again, “i will withdraw from both clubsand i’ll—i’ll pull up every weed off every yankee’s grave i can find and i’ll plant flowers, too—and—i just dare anyone to stop me!”
with this final defiance melanie burst into tears and tried to make her stumbling way to thedoor.
grandpa merriwether, safe in the masculine confines of the girl of the period saloon an hourlater, reported to uncle henry hamilton that after these words, everybody cried and embracedmelanie and it all ended up in a love feast and melanie was made secretary of both organizations.
“and they are going to pull up the weeds. the hell of it is dolly said i’d be only too pleased tohelp do it, ‘cause i didn’t have anything much else to do. i got nothing against the yankees and ithink miss melly was right and the rest of those lady wild cats wrong. but the idea of me pullingweeds at my time of life and with my lumbago!”
melanie was on the board of lady managers of the orphans’ home and assisted in the collectionof books for the newly formed young men’s library association. even the thespians who gaveamateur plays once a month clamored for her. she was too timid to appear behind the kerosene-lamp footlights, but she could make costumes out of croker sacks if they were the only materialavailable. it was she who cast the deciding vote at the shakespeare reading circle that the bard’sworks should be varied with those of mr. dickens and mr. bulwer-lytton and not the poems oflord byron, as had been suggested by a young and, melanie privately feared, very fast bachelormember of the circle.
in the nights of the late summer her small, feebly lighted house was always full of guests. therewere never enough chairs to go around and frequently ladies sat on the steps of the front porchwith men grouped about them on the banisters, on packing boxes or on the lawn below. sometimeswhen scarlett saw guests sitting on the grass, sipping tea, the only refreshment the wilkeses couldafford, she wondered how melanie could bring herself to expose her poverty so shamelessly. untilscarlett was able to furnish aunt pitty’s house as it had been before the war and serve her guestsgood wine and juleps and baked ham and cold haunches of venison, she had no intention of havingguests in her house—especially prominent guests, such as melanie had.
general john b. gordon, georgia’s great hero, was frequently there with his family. fatherryan, the poet-priest of the confederacy, never failed to call when passing through atlanta. hecharmed gatherings there with his wit and seldom needed much urging to recite his “sword oflee” or his deathless “conquered banner,” which never failed to make the ladies cry. alexstephens, late vice-president of the confederacy, visited whenever in town and, when the wordwent about that he was at melanie’s, the house was filled and people sat for hours under the spell of the frail invalid with the ringing voice. usually there were a dozen children present, noddingsleepily in their parents’ arms, up hours after their normal bedtime. no family wanted its childrento miss being able to say in after years that they had been kissed by the great vice-president or hadshaken the hand that helped to guide the cause. every person of importance who came to townfound his way to the wilkes home and often they spent the night there. it crowded the little flat-topped house, forced india to sleep on a pallet in the cubbyhole that was beau’s nursery and sentdilcey speeding through the back hedge to borrow breakfast eggs from aunt pitty’s cookie, butmelanie entertained them as graciously as if hers was a mansion.
no, it did not occur to melanie that people rallied round her as round a worn and loved standard.
and so she was both astounded and embarrassed when dr. meade, after a pleasant evening at herhouse where he acquitted himself nobly in reading the part of macbeth, kissed her hand and madeobservations in the voice he once used in speaking of our glorious cause.
“my dear miss melly, it is always a privilege and a pleasure to be in your home, for you—andladies like you—are the hearts of all of us, all that we have left. they have taken the flower of ourmanhood and the laughter of our young women. they have broken our health, uprooted our livesand unsettled our habits. they have ruined our prosperity, set us back fifty years and placed tooheavy a burden on the shoulders of our boys who should be in school and our old men who shouldbe sleeping in the sun. but we will build back, because we have hearts like yours to build upon.
and as long as we have them, the yankees can have the rest!”
until scarlett’s figure reached such proportions that even aunt pitty’s big black shawl did notconceal her condition, she and frank frequently slipped through the back hedge to join thesummer-night gatherings on melanie’s porch. scarlett always sat well out of the light, hidden inthe protecting shadows where she was not only inconspicuous but could, unobserved, watchashley’s face to her heart’s content.
it was only ashley who drew her to the house, for the conversations bored and saddened her.
they always followed a set pattern—first, hard times; next, the political situation; and then,inevitably, the war. the ladies bewailed the high prices of everything and asked the gentlemen ifthey thought good times would ever come back. and the omniscient gentlemen always said, indeedthey would. merely a matter of time. hard times were just temporary. the ladies knew thegentlemen were lying and the gentlemen knew the ladies knew they were lying. but they liedcheerfully just the same and the ladies pretended to believe them. everyone knew hard times werehere to stay.
once the hard times were disposed of, the ladies spoke of the increasing impudence of thenegroes and the outrages of the carpetbaggers and the humiliation of having the yankee soldiersloafing on every corner. did the gentlemen think the yankees would ever get through withreconstructing georgia? the reassuring gentlemen thought reconstruction would be over in notime—that is, just as soon as the democrats could vote again. the ladies were considerate enoughnot to ask when this would be. and having finished with politics, the talk about the war began.
whenever two former confederates met anywhere, there but one topic of conversation,andwhereadozenormoregatheredtogether,itwasafo(was) regone(never) conclusion that the war would be spiritedly refought. and always the word “if” had the most prominent part in thetalk.
“if england had recognized us—” “if jeff davis had commandeered all the cotton and gotten itto england before the blockade tightened—” “if longstreet had obeyed orders at gettysburg—”
“if jeb stuart hadn’t been away on that raid when marse bob needed him—” “if we hadn’t loststonewall jackson—” “if vicksburg hadn’t fallen—” “if we could have held on another year—”
and always: “if they hadn’t replaced johnston with hood—” or “if they’d put hood in commandat dalton instead of johnston—”
if! if! the soft drawling voices quickened with an old excitement as they talked in the quietdarkness—infantryman, cavalryman, cannoneer, evoking memories of the days when life was everat high tide, recalling the fierce heat of their midsummer in this forlorn sunset of their winter.
‘they don’t talk of anything else,” thought scarlett. “nothing but the war. always the war. andthey’ll never talk of anything but the war. no, not until they die.”
she looked about, seeing little boys lying in the crooks of their fathers’ arms, breath coming fast,eyes glowing, as they heard of midnight stories and wild cavalry dashes and flags planted onenemy breastworks. they were hearing drums and bugles and the rebel yell, seeing footsore mengoing by in the rain with torn flags slanting.
“and these children will never talk of anything else either. they’ll think it was wonderful andglorious to fight the yankees and come home blind and crippled—or not come home at all. theyall like to remember the war, to talk about it. but i don’t. i don’t even like to think about it. i’dforget it all if i could—oh, if i only could!”
she listened with flesh crawling as melanie told tales of tara, making scarlett a heroine as shefaced the invaders and saved charles’ sword, bragging how scarlett had put out the fire. scarletttook no pleasure or pride in the memory of these things. she did not want to think of them at all.
“oh, why can’t they forget? why can’t they look forward and not back? we were fools to fightthat war. and the sooner we forget it, the better we’ll be.”
but no one wanted to forget, no one, it seemed, except herself, so scarlett was glad when shecould truthfully tell melanie that she was embarrassed at appearing, even in the darkness. thisexplanation was readily understood by melanie who was hypersensitive about all matters relatingto childbirth. melanie wanted another baby badly, but both dr. meade and dr. fontaine had saidanother child would cost her her life. so, only half resigned to her fate, she spent most of her timewith scarlett, vicariously enjoying a pregnancy not her own. to scarlett, scarcely wanting hercoming child and irritated at its untimeliness, this attitude seemed the height of sentimentalstupidity. but she had a guilty sense of pleasure that the doctors’ edict had made impossible anyreal intimacy between ashley and his wife.
scarlett saw ashley frequently now but she never saw him alone. he came by the house everynight on his way home from the mill to report on the day’s work, but frank and pitty were usuallypresent or, worse still, melanie and india. she could only ask businesslike questions and makesuggestions and then say: “it was nice of you to come by. good night.”
if only she wasn’t having a baby! here was a god-given opportunity to ride out to the mill with him every morning, through the lonely woods, far from prying eyes, where they could imaginethemselves back in the county again in the unhurried days before the war.
no, she wouldn’t try to make him say one word of love! she wouldn’t refer to love in any way.
she’d sworn an oath to herself that she would never do that again. but, perhaps if she were alonewith him once more, he might drop that mask of impersonal courtesy he had worn since coming toatlanta. perhaps he might be his old self again, be the ashley she had known before the barbecue,before any word of love had been spoken between them. if they could not be lovers, they could befriends again and she could warm her cold and lonely heart in the glow of his friendship.
“if only i could get this baby over and done with,” she thought impatiently, “then i could ridewith him every day and we could talk—”
it was not only the desire to be with him that made her writhe with helpless impatience at herconfinement. the mills needed her. the mills had been losing money ever since she retired fromactive supervision, leaving hugh and ashley in charge.
hugh was so incompetent, for all that he tried so hard. he was a poor trader and a poorer boss oflabor. anyone could jew him down on prices. if any slick contractor chose to say that the lumberwas of an inferior grade and not worth the price asked, hugh felt that all a gentleman could do wasto apologize and take a lower price. when she heard of the price he received for a thousand feet offlooring, she burst into angry tears. the best grade of flooring the mill had ever turned out and hehad practically given it away! and he couldn’t manage his labor crews. the negroes insisted onbeing paid every day and they frequently got drunk on their wages and did not turn up for work thenext morning. on these occasions hugh was forced to hunt up new workmen and the mill was latein starting. with these difficulties hugh didn’t get into town to sell the lumber for days on end.
seeing the profits slip from hugh’s fingers, scarlett became frenzied at her impotence and hisstupidity. just as soon as the baby was born and she could go back to work, she would get rid ofhugh and hire some one else. anyone would do better. and she would never fool with free niggersagain. how could anyone get any work done with free niggers quitting all the time?
“frank,” she said, after a stormy interview with hugh over his missing workmen, i’ve aboutmade up my mind that i’ll lease convicts to work the mills. a while back i was talking to johnniegallegher, tommy wellburn’s foreman, about the trouble we were having getting any work out ofthe darkies and he asked me why i didn’t get convicts. it sounds like a good idea to me. he said icould sublease them for next to nothing and feed them dirt cheap. and he said i could get work outof them in any way i liked, without having the freedman’s bureau swarming down on me likehornets, sticking their bills into things that aren’t any of their business. and just as soon as johnniegallegher’s contract with tommy is up, i’m going to hire him to run hugh’s mill. any man whocan get work out of that bunch of wild irish he bosses can certainly get plenty of work out ofconvicts.”
convicts! frank was speechless. leasing convicts was the very worst of all the wild schemesscarlett had ever suggested, worse even than her notion of building a saloon.
at least, it seemed worse to frank and the conservative circles in which he moved. this newsystem of leasing convicts had come into being because of the poverty of the state after the war.
unable to support the convicts, the state was hiring them out to those needing large labor crews inthe building of railroads, in turpentine forests and lumber camps. while frank and his quietchurchgoing friends realized the necessity of the system, they deplored it just the same. many ofthem had not even believed in slavery and they thought this was far worse than slavery had everbeen.
and scarlett wanted to lease convicts! frank knew that if she did he could never hold up hishead again. this was far worse than owning and operating the mills herself, or anything else shehad done. his past objections had always been coupled with the question: “what will people say?”
but this—this went deeper than fear of public opinion. he felt that it was a traffic in human bodieson a par with prostitution, a sin that would be on his soul if he permitted her to do it.
from this conviction of wrongness, frank gathered courage to forbid scarlett to do such a thing,and so strong were his remarks that she, startled, relapsed into silence. finally to quiet him, shesaid meekly she hadn’t really meant it she was just so outdone with hugh and the free niggers shehad lost her temper. secretly, she still thought about it and with some longing. convict labor wouldsettle one of her hardest problems, but if frank was going to take on so about it—she sighed. if even one of the mills were making money, she could stand it. but ashley wasfaring little better with his mill than hugh.
at first scarlett was shocked and disappointed that ashley did not immediately take hold andmake the mill pay double what it had paid under her management. he was so smart and he hadread so many books and there was no reason at all why he should not make a brilliant success andlots of money. but he was no more successful than hugh. his inexperience, his errors, his utterlack of business judgment and his scruples about close dealing were the same as hugh’s.
scarlett’s love hastily found excuses for him and she did not consider the two men in the samelight. hugh was just hopelessly stupid, while ashley was merely new at the business. still,unbidden, came the thought that ashley could never make a quick estimate in his head and give aprice that was correct, as she could. and she sometimes wondered if he’d ever learn to distinguishbetween planking and sills. and because he was a gentleman and himself trustworthy, he trustedevery scoundrel who came along and several times would have lost money for her if she had nottactfully intervened. and if he liked a person—and he seemed to like so many people!—he soldthem lumber on credit without ever thinking to find out if they had money in the bank or property.
he was as bad as frank in that respect.
but surely he would learn! and while he was learning she had a fond and maternal indulgenceand patience for his errors. every evening when he called at her house, weary and discouraged, shewas tireless in her tactful, helpful suggestions. but for all her encouragement and cheer, there wasa queer dead look in his eyes. she could not understand it and it frightened her. he was different,so different from the man he used to be. if only she could see him alone, perhaps she coulddiscover the reason.
the situation gave her many sleepless nights. she worried about ashley, both because she knewhe was unhappy and because she knew his unhappiness wasn’t helping him to become a goodlumber dealer. it was a torture to have her mills in the hands of two men with no more businesssense than hugh and ashley, heartbreaking to see her competitors taking her best customers away when she had worked so hard and planned so carefully for these helpless months. oh, if she couldonly get back to work again! she would take ashley in hand and then he would certainly learn.
and johnnie gallegher could run the other mill, and she could handle the selling, and theneverything would be fine. as for hugh, he could drive a delivery wagon if he still wanted to workfor her. that was all he was good for.
of course, gallegher looked like an unscrupulous man, for all of his smartness, but—who elsecould she get? why had the other men who were both smart and honest been so perverse aboutworking for her? if she only had one of them working for her now in place of hugh, she wouldn’thave to worry so much, but—tommy wellburn, in spite of his crippled back, was the busiest contractor in town and coiningmoney, so people said. mrs. merriwether and rené were prospering and now had opened a bakerydowntown. rené was managing it with true french thrift and grandpa merriwether, glad to escapefrom his chimney corner, was driving rené’s pie wagon. the simmons boys were so busy theywere operating their brick kiln with three shifts of labor a day. and kells whiting was cleaning upmoney with his hair straightener, because he told the negroes they wouldn’t ever be permitted tovote the republican ticket if they had kinky hair.
it the with all the smart young men she knew, the doctors, the lawyers, the storekeep(was) ers.thea(same) pathy which had clutched them immediately after the war had completelydisappeared and they were too busy building their own fortunes to help her build hers. the oneswho were not busy were the men of hugh’s type—or ashley’s.
what a mess it was to try to run a business and have a baby too!
“i’ll never have another one,” she decided firmly. “i’m not going to be like other women andhave a baby every year. good lord, that would mean six months out of the year when i’d have tobe away from the mills! and i see now i can’t afford to be away from them even one day. i shallsimply tell frank that i won’t have any more children.”
frank wanted a big family, but she could manage frank somehow. her mind was made up. thiswas her last child. the mills were far more important.
最后一个送葬者告别了，最后一辆车轮声和马蹄声消失了，思嘉走进母亲爱伦过去的办事房，从秘书的文书格子里发黄的故纸堆里取出一件发亮的东西，这是她前一天晚上藏在这里的。听见波克在饭厅里一面摆桌子，一面抽平地哭，就叫他过来。他走进来时那张黑脸像丧家的狗的脸一样难看。
“波克，"她正颜厉色地说，"你要是再哭，我就----我就也要哭了。你可不能再哭了。““是的，小姐，我不哭了，可是每次我忍着不哭，就想起杰拉尔德老爷----"“那你就别想，别人哭，你都可以忍受，唯独你哭，我真受不了。你看，”说到这里，她停顿了一下，口气变得温和了，"你还不明白呀？你哭，我受不了，因为我知道你多么爱护老爷，去擤擤鼻子，波克。我要送你一件礼物。"波克一面大声擤鼻子，一面流露出有些感兴趣的目光，不过，与其说他感兴趣，不如说他是出自礼貌。
“那天晚上，你去偷人家的鸡，让人家开枪打伤了，你还记得吗？"“哎呀，思嘉不！我从来没有----"“好了，怎么没有，事到如今你也就别对我隐瞒了，我说过我要给你一只表，奖励你的忠诚，你还记得吗？"“是，小姐，我记得。我猜想您已经忘了。"“没有，我没忘，现在就给你。"思嘉伸出手来给他看一只沉甸甸的金表，上面刻着很多立体的花纹，一根链子垂下来，链子上也有一些装饰品。
“哎呀，思嘉小姐！"波克说：“这是杰拉尔德老爷的表！
我看见老爷看这只表，不知看了多少次。"“不错，是爸爸的表，波克，现在我把它送给你了，拿去吧。"“唔，我不要，小姐，"波克也边说往后退缩，显出很害怕的样子。"这是白人老爷们用的表，是杰拉尔德老爷的。思嘉小姐，您怎么能说把它送给我呢？这只表照理应该属于小少爷韦德·汉普顿。"“现在这只表属于你了。韦德·汉普顿为我爸爸干过什么事？爸爸生病虚弱的时候，给他洗过澡，换过衣裳，刮过脸吗，照顾过他吧？北方佬来的时候，随时跟他在一起吗？为他偷东西吗？你别这么傻，波克，要是说谁配得到这只表，那就是你了。我知道，爸爸要是在世，也会同意的。拿去吧。"说罢，她抓起波克的一只手，把表放在他的手心里。波克怀着愉快的心情看着这只表，脸上慢慢显出十分崇敬的神色。
“给我了，真的，思嘉小姐？&r