[Part 24] "Gone With The Wind" by Margaret Mitchell

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋.

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RHETT NEVER DEVIATED from his smooth, imperturbable manners, even in their most intimate moments.

But Scarlett never lost the old feeling that he was watching her covertly, knew that if she turned her head suddenly she would surprise in his eyes that speculative, waiting look, that look of almost terrible patience that she did not understand.

Sometimes, he was a very comfortable person to live with, for all his unfortunate habit of not permitting anyone in his presence to act a lie, palm off a pretense or indulge in bombast.

He listened to her talk of the store and the mills and the saloon, the convicts and the cost of feeding them, and gave shrewd hard-headed advice.

He had untiring energy for the dancing and parties she loved and an unending supply of coarse stories with which he regaled her on their infrequent evenings alone when the table was cleared and brandy and coffee before them.

She found that he would give her anything she desired, answer any question she asked as long as she was forthright, and refuse her anything she attempted to gain by indirection, hints and feminine angling.

He had a disconcerting habit of seeing through her and laughing rudely.

Contemplating the suave indifference with which he generally treated her, Scarlett frequently wondered, but with no real curiosity, why he had married her.

Men married for love or a home and children or money but she knew he had married her for none of these things.

He certainly did not love her.

He referred to her lovely house as an architectural horror and said he would rather live in a well-regulated hotel than a home.

And he never once hinted about children as Charles and Frank had done.

Once when trying to coquet with him she asked him why he married her and was infuriated when he replied with an amused gleam in his eyes: “I married you to keep you for a pet, my dear.”

No, he hadn’t married her for any of the usual reasons men marry women.

He had married her solely because he wanted her and couldn’t get her any other way.

He had admitted as much the night he proposed to her.

He had wanted her, just as he had wanted Belle Watling.

This was not a pleasant thought.

In fact, it was a barefaced insult.

But she shrugged it off as she had learned to shrug off all unpleasant facts.

They had made a bargain and she was quite pleased with her side of the bargain.

She hoped he was equally pleased but she did not care very much whether he was or not.

But one afternoon when she was consulting Dr. Meade about a digestive upset, she learned an unpleasant fact which she could not shrug off.

It was with real hate in her eyes that she stormed into her bedroom at twilight and told Rhett that she was going to have a baby.

He was lounging in a silk dressing gown in a cloud of smoke and his eyes went sharply to her face as she spoke.

But he said nothing.

He watched her in silence but there was a tenseness about his pose, as he waited for her next words, that was lost on her.

Indignation and despair had claimed her to the exclusion of all other thoughts.

“You know I don’t want any more children!

I never wanted any at all.

Every time things are going right with me I have to have a baby.

Oh, don’t sit there and laugh!

You don’t want it either.

Oh, Mother of God!”

If he was waiting for words from her, these were not the words he wanted.

His face hardened slightly and his eyes became blank.

“Well, why not give it to Miss Melly?

Didn’t you tell me she was so misguided as to want another baby?”

“Oh, I could kill you!

I won’t have it, I tell you, I won’t!”

“No?

Pray continue.”

“Oh, there are things to do.

I’m not the stupid country fool I used to be.

Now, I know that a woman doesn’t have to have children if she doesn’t want them!

There are things—”

He was on his feet and had her by the wrist and there was a hard, driving fear in his face.

“Scarlett, you fool, tell me the truth!

You haven’t done anything?”

“No, I haven’t, but I’m going to.

Do you think I’m going to have my figure ruined all over again, just when I’ve gotten my waist line down and am having a good time and—”

“Where did you get this idea?

Who’s been telling you things?”

“Mamie Bart—she—”

“The madam of a whore house would know such tricks.

That woman never puts foot in this house again, do you understand?

After all, it is my house and I’m the master of it.

I do not even want you to speak to her again.”

“I’ll do as I please.

Turn me loose.

Why should you care?”

“I don’t care whether you have one child or twenty, but I do care if you die.”

“Die?

Me?”

“Yes, die.

I don’t suppose Mamie Bart told you the chances a woman takes when she does a thing like that?”

“No,” said Scarlett reluctantly.

“She just said it would fix things up fine.”

“By God, I will kill her!” cried Rhett and his face was black with rage.

He looked down into Scarlett’s tear-stained face and some of the wrath faded but it was still hard and set.

Suddenly he picked her up in his arms and sat down in the chair, holding her close to him, tightly, as if he feared she would get away from him.

“Listen, my baby, I won’t have you take your life in your hands.

Do you hear?

Good God, I don’t want children any more than you do, but I can support them.

I don’t want to hear any more foolishness out of you, and if you dare try to— Scarlett, I saw a girl die that way once.

She was only a— well, but she was a pretty good sort at that.

It’s not an easy way to die.

I—”

“Why, Rhett!” she cried, startled out of her misery at the emotion in his voice.

She had never seen him so moved.

“Where—who—”

“In New Orleans—oh, years ago.

I was young and impressionable.”

He bent his head suddenly and buried his lips in her hair.

“You’ll have your baby, Scarlett, if I have to handcuff you to my wrist for the next nine months.”

She sat up in his lap and stared into his face with frank curiosity.

Under her gaze it was suddenly smooth and bland as though wiped clear by magic.

His eyebrows were up and the corner of his mouth was down.

“Do I mean so much to you?” she questioned, dropping her eyelids.

He gave her a level look as though estimating how much coquetry was behind the question.

Reading the true meaning of her demeanor, he made casual answer.

“Well, yes.

You see, I’ve invested a good deal of money in you, and I’d hate to lose it.”

********

Melanie came out of Scarlett’s room, weary from the strain but happy to tears at the birth of Scarlett’s daughter.

Rhett stood tensely in the hall, surrounded by cigar butts which had burned holes in the fine carpet.

“You can go in now, Captain Butler,” she said shyly.

Rhett went swiftly past her into the room and Melanie had a brief glimpse of him bending over the small naked baby in Mammy’s lap before Dr. Meade shut the door.

Melanie sank into a chair, her face pinkening with embarrassment that she had unintentionally witnessed so intimate a scene.

“Ah!” she thought.

“How sweet!

How worried poor Captain Butler has been!

And he did not take a single drink all this time!

How nice of him.

So many gentlemen are so intoxicated by the time their babies are born.

I fear he needs a drink badly.

Dare I suggest it?

No, that would be very forward of me.”

She sank gratefully into a chair, her back, which always ached these days, feeling as though it would break in two at the waist line.

Oh, how fortunate Scarlett was to have Captain Butler just outside her door while the baby was being born!

If only she had had Ashley with her that dreadful day Beau came she would not have suffered half so much.

If only that small girl behind those closed doors were hers and not Scarlett’s!

Oh, how wicked I am, she thought guiltily.

I am coveting her baby and Scarlett has been so good to me.

Forgive me, Lord.

I wouldn’t really want Scarlett’s baby but—but I would so like a baby of my own!

She pushed a small cushion behind her aching back and thought hungrily of a daughter of her own.

But Dr. Meade had never changed his opinion on that subject.

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And though she was quite willing to risk her life for another child, Ashley would not hear of it.

A daughter.

How Ashley would love a daughter!

A daughter!

Mercy!

She sat up in alarm.

I never told Captain Butler it was a girl!

And of course he was expecting a boy.

Oh, how dreadful!

Melanie knew that to a woman a child of either sex was equally welcome but to a man, and especially such a self-willed man as Captain Butler, a girl would be a blow, a reflection upon his manhood.

Oh, how thankful she was that God had permitted her only child to be a boy!

She knew that, had she been the wife of the fearsome Captain Butler, she would have thankfully died in childbirth rather than present him with a daughter as his firstborn.

But Mammy, waddling grinning from the room, set her mind at ease—and at the same time made her wonder just what kind of a man Captain Butler really was.

“W’en Ah wuz bathin’ dat chile jes’ now,” said Mammy, “Ah kinder ’pologized ter Mist Rhett ’bout it not bein’ a boy.

But, Lawd, Miss Melly, you know whut he say?

He say, ‘Hesh yo’ mouf, Mammy!

Who want a boy?

Boys ain’ no fun.

Dey’s jes’ a passel of trouble.

Gals is whut is fun.

Ah wouldn’ swap disyere gal fer a bakers dozen of boys.’

Den he try ter snatch de chile frum me, buck nekked as she wuz, an’ Ah slap his wrist an’ say ‘B’have yo’seff, Mist’ Rhett!

Ah’ll jes’ bide mah time tell you gits a boy, an’ den Ah’ll laff out loud to hear you holler fer joy.’

He grin an’ shake his haid an’ say, ‘Mammy, you is a fool.

Boys ain’ no use ter nobody.

Ain’ Ah a proof of dat?’

Yas’m, Miss Melly, he ack lak a gempmum ’bout it,” finished Mammy graciously.

It was not lost on Melanie that Rhett’s conduct had gone far toward redeeming him in Mammy’s eyes.

“Maybe Ah done been a mite wrong ’bout Mist’ Rhett.

Dis sho is a happy day ter me, Miss Melly.

Ah done diapered three ginrations of Robillard gals, an’ it sho is a happy day.”

“Oh, yes, it is a happy day, Mammy!

The happiest days are the days when babies come!”

To one person in the house it was not a happy day.

Scolded and for the most part ignored, Wade Hampton idled miserably about the dining room.

Early that morning, Mammy had waked him abruptly, dressed him hurriedly and sent him with Ella to Aunt Pitty’s house for breakfast.

The only explanation he received was that his mother was sick and the noise of his playing might upset her.

Aunt Pitty’s house was in an uproar, for the news of Scarlett’s sickness had sent the old lady to bed in a state with Cookie in attendance, and breakfast was a scant meal that Peter concocted for the children.

As the morning wore on fear began to possess Wade’s soul.

Suppose Mother died?

Other boys’ mothers had died.

He had seen the hearses move away from the houses and heard his small friends sobbing.

Suppose Mother should die?

Wade loved his mother very much, almost as much as he feared her, and the thought of her being carried away in a black hearse behind black horses with plumes on their bridles made his small chest ache so that he could hardly breathe.

When noon came and Peter was busy in the kitchen, Wade slipped out the front door and hurried home as fast as his short legs could carry him, fear speeding him.

Uncle Rhett or Aunt Melly or Mammy surely would tell him the truth.

But Uncle Rhett and Aunt Melly were not to be seen and Mammy and Dilcey sped up and down the back stairs with towels and basins of hot water and did not notice him in the front hall.

From upstairs he could hear occasionally the curt tones of Dr. Meade whenever a door opened.

Once he heard his mother groan and he burst into sobbing hiccoughs.

He knew she was going to die.

For comfort, he made overtures to the honey-colored cat which lay on the sunny window sill in the front hall.

But Tom, full of years and irritable at disturbances, switched his tail and spat softly.

Finally, Mammy, coming down the front stairs, her apron rumpled and spotted, her head rag awry, saw him and scowled.

Mammy had always been Wade’s mainstay and her frown made him tremble.

“You is de wustes’ boy Ah ever seed,” she said.

“Ain’ Ah done sont you ter Miss Pitty’s?

Gwan back dar!”

“Is Mother going to—will she die?”

“You is de troublesomes’ chile Ah ever seed!

Die?

Gawdlmighty, no!

Lawd, boys is a tawment.

Ah doan see why de Lawd sen’s boys ter folks.

Now, gwan ’way from here.”

But Wade did not go.

He retreated behind the portieres in the hall, only half convinced by her words.

The remarks about the troublesomeness of boys stung, for he had always tried his best to be good.

Aunt Melly hurried down the stairs half an hour later, pale and tired but smiling to herself.

She looked thunderstruck when she saw his woebegone face in the shadows of the drapery.

Usually Aunt Melly had all the time in the world to give him.

She never said, as Mother so often did: “Don’t bother me now.

I’m in a hurry” or “Run away, Wade.

I am busy.”

But this morning she said: “Wade, you’ve been very naughty.

Why didn’t you stay at Aunt Pitty’s?”

“Is Mother going to die?”

“Gracious, no, Wade!

Don’t be a silly child,” and then, relenting: “Dr. Meade has just brought her a nice little baby, a sweet little sister for you to play with, and if you are real good you can see her tonight.

Now, run out and play and don’t make any noise.”

Wade slipped into the quiet dining room, his small and insecure world tottering.

Was there no place for a worried little seven-year-old boy on this sunshiny day when the grown-ups acted so curiously?

He sat down on the window sill in the alcove and nibbled a bit of the elephant’s ear which grew in a box in the sun.

It was so peppery that it stung his eyes to tears and he began to cry.

Mother was probably dying, nobody paid him any heed and one and all, they rushed about because of a new baby—a girl baby.

Wade had little interest in babies, still less in girls.

The only little girl he knew intimately was Ella and, so far, she had done nothing to command his respect or liking.

After a long interval Dr. Meade and Uncle Rhett came down the stairs and stood talking in the hall in low voices.

After the door shut behind the doctor, Uncle Rhett came swiftly into the dining room and poured himself a large drink from the decanter before he saw Wade.

Wade shrank back, expecting to be told again that he was naughty and must return to Aunt Pitty’s, but instead, Uncle Rhett smiled.

Wade had never seen him smile like that or look so happy and, encouraged, he leaped from the sill and ran to him.

“You’ve got a sister,” said Rhett, squeezing him.

“By God, the most beautiful baby you ever saw!

Now, why are you crying?”

“Mother—”

“Your mother’s eating a great big dinner, chicken and rice and gravy and coffee, and we’re going to make her some ice cream in a little while and you can have two plates if you want them.

And I’ll show you your sister too.”

Weak with relief, Wade tried to be polite about his new sister but failed.

Everyone was interested in this girl.

No one cared anything about him any more, not even Aunt Melly or Uncle Rhett.

“Uncle Rhett,” he began, “do people like girls better than boys?”

Rhett set down his glass and looked sharply into the small face and instant comprehension came into his eyes.

“No, I can’t say they do,” he answered seriously, as though giving the matter due thought.

“It’s just that girls are more trouble than boys and people are apt to worry more about troublesome people than those who aren’t.”

“Mammy just said boys were troublesome.”

“Well, Mammy was upset.

She didn’t mean it.”

“Uncle Rhett, wouldn’t you rather have had a little boy than a little girl?” questioned Wade hopefully.

“No,” answered Rhett swiftly and, seeing the boy’s face fall, he continued: “Now, why should I want a boy when I’ve already got one?”

“You have?” cried Wade, his mouth falling open at this information.

“Where is he?”

“Right here,” answered Rhett and, picking the child up, drew him to his knee.

“You are boy enough for me, son.”

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For a moment, the security and happiness of being wanted was so great that Wade almost cried again.

His throat worked and he ducked his head against Rhett’s waistcoat.

“You are my boy, aren’t you?”

“Can you be—well, two men’s boy?” questioned Wade, loyalty to the father he had never known struggling with love for the man who held him so understandingly.

“Yes,” said Rhett firmly.

“Just like you can be your mother’s boy and Aunt Melly’s, too.”

Wade digested this statement.

It made sense to him and he smiled and wriggled against Rhett’s arm shyly.

“You understand little boys, don’t you, Uncle Rhett?”

Rhett’s face fell into its old harsh lines and his lip twisted.

“Yes,” he said bitterly, “I understand little boys.”

For a moment, fear came back to Wade, fear and a sudden sense of jealousy.

Uncle Rhett was not thinking of him but of some one else.

“You haven’t got any other little boys, have you?”

Rhett set him on his feet.

“I’m going to have a drink and so are you, Wade, your first drink, a toast to your new sister.”

“You haven’t got any other—” began Wade and then seeing Rhett reach for the decanter of claret, the excitement at being included in this grownup ceremony diverted him.

“Oh, I can’t, Uncle Rhett!

I promised Aunt Melly I wouldn’t drink till I graduated from the university and she’s going to give me a watch if I don’t.”

“And I’ll give you a chain for it—this one I’m wearing now, if you want it,” said Rhett and he was smiling again.

“Aunt Melly’s quite right.

But she was talking about spirits, not wine.

You must learn to drink wine like a gentleman, son, and there’s no time like the present to learn.”

Skillfully, he diluted the claret with water from the carafe until the liquid was barely pink and handed the glass to Wade.

At that moment, Mammy entered the dining room.

She had changed to her best Sunday black and her apron and head rag were fresh and crisp.

As she waddled, she switched herself and from her skirts came the whisper and rustle of silk.

The worried look had gone from her face and her almost toothless gums showed in a wide smile.

“Burfday gif’, Mist’ Rhett!” she said.

Wade stopped with his glass at his lips.

He knew Mammy had never liked his stepfather.

He had never heard her call him anything except “Cap’n Butler,” and her conduct toward him had been dignified but cold.

And here she was beaming and sidling and calling him “Mist’ Rhett!”

What a topsy-turvy day!

“You’d rather have rum than claret, I suppose,” said Rhett, reaching into the cellaret and producing a squat bottle.

“She is a beautiful baby, isn’t she, Mammy?”

“She sho is,” answered Mammy, smacking her lips as she took the glass.

“Did you ever see a prettier one?”

“Well, suh, Miss Scarlett wuz mout nigh as pretty w’en she come but not quite.”

“Have another glass, Mammy.

And Mammy,” his tone was stern but his eyes twinkled, “what’s that rustling noise I hear?”

“Lawd, Mist’ Rhett, dat ain’ nuthin’ but mah red silk petticoat!”

Mammy giggled and switched till her huge bulk shook.

“Nothing but your petticoat!

I don’t believe it.

You sound like a peck of dried leaves rubbing together.

Let me see.

Pull up your skirt.”

“Mist’ Rhett, you is bad!

Yeah-O, Lawd!”

Mammy gave a little shriek and retreated and from a distance of a yard, modestly elevated her dress a few inches and showed the ruffle of a red taffeta petticoat.

“You took long enough about wearing it,” grumbled Rhett but his black eyes laughed and danced.

“Yassuh, too long.”

Then Rhett said something that Wade did not understand.

“No more mule in horse harness?”

“Mist’ Rhett, Miss Scarlett wuz bad ter tell you dat!

You ain’ holin’ dat agin’ dis ole nigger?”

“No, I’m not holding it.

I just wanted to know.

Have another drink, Mammy.

Have the whole bottle.

Drink up, Wade!

Give us a toast.”

“To Sissy,” cried Wade and gulped the liquid down.

Choking, he began to cough and hiccough and the other two laughed and beat him on the back.

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From the moment his daughter was born, Rhett’s conduct was puzzling to all observers and he upset many settled notions about himself, notions which both the town and Scarlett were loath to surrender.

Whoever would have thought that he of all people would be so shamelessly, so openly proud of fatherhood?

Especially in view of the embarrassing circumstance that his first-born was a girl and not a boy.

The novelty of fatherhood did not wear off.

This caused some secret envy among women whose husbands took offspring for granted, long before the children were christened.

He buttonholed people on the street and related details of his child’s miraculous progress without even prefacing his remarks with the hypocritical but polite: “I know everyone thinks their own child is smart but—”

He thought his daughter marvelous, not to be compared with lesser brats, and he did not care who knew it.

When the new nurse permitted the baby to suck a bit of fat pork, thereby bringing on the first attack of colic, Rhett’s conduct sent seasoned fathers and mothers into gales of laughter.

He hurriedly summoned Dr. Meade and two other doctors, and with difficulty he was restrained from beating the unfortunate nurse with his crop.

The nurse was discharged and thereafter followed a series of nurses who remained, at the most, a week.

None of them was good enough to satisfy the exacting requirements Rhett laid down.

Mammy likewise viewed with displeasure the nurses that came and went, for she was jealous of any strange negro and saw no reason why she could not care for the baby and Wade and Ella, too.

But Mammy was showing her age and rheumatism was slowing her lumbering tread.

Rhett lacked the courage to cite these reasons for employing another nurse.

He told her instead that a man of his position could not afford to have only one nurse.

It did not look well.

He would hire two others to do the drudgery and leave her as Mammy-in-chief.

This Mammy understood very well.

More servants were a credit to her position as well as Rhett’s.

But she would not, she told him firmly, have any trashy free issue niggers in her nursery.

So Rhett sent to Tara for Prissy.

He knew her shortcomings but, after all, she was a family darky.

And Uncle Peter produced a great-niece named Lou who had belonged to one of Miss Pitty’s Burr cousins.

Even before Scarlett was able to be about again, she noticed Rhett’s preoccupation with the baby and was somewhat nettled and embarrassed at his pride in her in front of callers.

It was all very well for a man to love his child but she felt there was something unmanly in the display of such love.

He should be offhand and careless, as other men were.

“You are making a fool of yourself,” she said irritably, “and I don’t see why.”

“No?

Well, you wouldn’t.

The reason is that she’s the first person who’s ever belonged utterly to me.”

“She belongs to me, too.”

“No, you have two other children.

She’s mine.”

“Great balls of fire!” said Scarlett.

“I had the baby, didn’t I?

Besides honey, I belong to you.”

Rhett looked at her over the black head of the child and smiled oddly.

“Do you, my dear?”

Only the entrance of Melanie stopped one of those swift hot quarrels which seemed to spring up so easily between them these days.

Scarlett swallowed her wrath and watched Melanie take the baby.

The name agreed upon for the child was Eugenie Victoria, but that afternoon Melanie unwittingly bestowed a name that clung, even as “Pittypat” had blotted out all memory of Sarah Jane.

Rhett leaning over the child had said: “Her eyes are going to be pea green.”

“Indeed they are not,” cried Melanie indignantly, forgetting that Scarlett’s eyes were almost that shade.

“They are going to be blue, like Mr. O’Hara’s eyes, as blue as—as blue as the bonnie blue flag.”

“Bonnie Blue Butler,” laughed Rhett, taking the child from her and peering more closely into the small eyes.

And Bonnie she became until even her parents did not recall that she had been named for two queens.

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈.

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WHEN SHE WAS FINALLY ABLE to go out again, Scarlett had Lou lace her stays as tightly as the strings would pull.

Then she passed the tape measure about her waist.

Twenty inches!

She groaned aloud.

That was what having babies did to your figure!

Her waist was as large as Aunt Pitty’s, as large as Mammy’s.

“Pull them tighter, Lou.

See if you can’t make it eighteen and a half inches or I can’t get into any of my dresses.”

“It’ll bust de strings,” said Lou.

“Yo’ wais’ jes’ done got bigger, Miss Scarlett, an dar ain’ nuthin’ ter do ’bout it.”

“There is something to do about it,” thought Scarlett as she ripped savagely at the seams of her dress to let out the necessary inches.

“I just won’t have any more babies.”

Of course, Bonnie was pretty and a credit to her and Rhett adored the child, but she would not have another baby.

Just how she would manage this she did not know, for she couldn’t handle Rhett as she had Frank.

Rhett wasn’t afraid of her.

It would probably be difficult with Rhett acting so foolishly about Bonnie and probably wanting a son next year, for all that he said he’d drown any boy she gave him.

Well, she wouldn’t give him a boy or girl either.

Three children were enough for any woman to have.

When Lou had stitched up the ripped seams, pressed them smooth and buttoned Scarlett into the dress, she called the carriage and Scarlett set out for the lumber yard.

Her spirits rose as she went and she forgot about her waist line, for she was going to meet Ashley at the yard to go over the books with him.

And, if she was lucky, she might see him alone.

She hadn’t seen him since long before Bonnie was born.

She hadn’t wanted to see him at all when she was so obviously pregnant.

And she had so missed the daily contact with him, even if there was always someone around.

She had missed the importance and activity of her lumber business while she was immured.

Of course, she did not have to work now.

She could easily sell the mills and invest the money for Wade and Ella.

But that would mean she would hardly ever see Ashley, except in a formal social way with crowds of people around.

And working by Ashley’s side was her greatest pleasure.

When she drove up to the yard she saw with interest how high the piles of lumber were and how many customers were standing among them, talking to Hugh Elsing.

And there were six mule teams and wagons being loaded by the negro drivers.

Six teams, she thought, with pride.

And I did all this by myself!

Ashley came to the door of the little office, his eyes joyful with the pleasure of seeing her again and he handed her out of her carriage and into the office as if she were a queen.

But some of her pleasure was dimmed when she went over the books of the mill and compared them with Johnnie Gallegher’s books.

Ashley had barely made expenses and Johnnie had a remarkable sum to his credit.

She forebore to say anything as she looked at the two sheets but Ashley read her face.

“Scarlett, I’m sorry.

All I can say is that I wish you’d let me hire free darkies instead of using convicts.

I believe I could do better.”

“Darkies!

Why, their pay would break us.

Convicts are dirt cheap.

If Johnnie can make this much with them—”

Ashley’s eyes went over her shoulder, looking at something she could not see, and the glad light went out of his eyes.

“I can’t work convicts like Johnnie Gallegher.

I can’t drive men.”

“God’s nightgown!

Johnnie’s a wonder at it.

Ashley, you are just too soft hearted.

You ought to get more work out of them.

Johnnie told me that any time a malingerer wanted to get out of work he told you he was sick and you gave him a day off.

Good Lord, Ashley!

That’s no way to make money.

A couple of licks will cure most any sickness short of a broken leg—”

“Scarlett!

Scarlett!

Stop!

I can’t bear to hear you talk that way,” cried Ashley, his eyes coming back to her with a fierceness that stopped her short.

“Don’t you realize that they are men—some of them sick, underfed, miserable and— Oh, my dear, I can’t bear to see the way he has brutalized you, you who were always so sweet—”

“Who has whatted me?”

“I’ve got to say it and I haven’t any right.

But I’ve got to say it.

Your—Rhett Butler.

Everything he touches he poisons.

And he has taken you who were so sweet and generous and gentle, for all your spirited ways, and he has done this to you—hardened you, brutalized you by his contact.”

“Oh,” breathed Scarlett, guilt struggling with joy that Ashley should feel so deeply about her, should still think her sweet.

Thank God, he thought Rhett to blame for her penny-pinching ways.

Of course, Rhett had nothing to do with it and the guilt was hers but, after all, another black mark on Rhett could do him no harm.

“If it were any other man in the world, I wouldn’t care so much—but Rhett Butler!

I’ve seen what he’s done to you.

Without your realizing it, he’s twisted your thoughts into the same hard path his own run in.

Oh, yes, I know I shouldn’t say this— He saved my life and I am grateful but I wish to God it had been any other man but him!

And I haven’t the right to talk to you like—”

“Oh, Ashley, you have the right—no one else has!”

“I tell you I can’t bear it, seeing your fineness coarsened by him, knowing that your beauty and your charm are in the keeping of a man who— When I think of him touching you, I—”

“He’s going to kiss me!” thought Scarlett ecstatically.

“And it won’t be my fault!”

She swayed toward him.

But he drew back suddenly, as if realizing he had said too much—said things he never intended to say.

“I apologize most humbly, Scarlett.

I—I’ve been insinuating that your husband is not a gentleman and my own words have proved that I’m not one.

No one has a right to criticize a husband to a wife.

I haven’t any excuse except—except—”

He faltered and his face twisted.

She waited breathless.

“I haven’t any excuse at all.”

All the way home in the carriage Scarlett’s mind raced.

No excuse at all except—except that he loved her!

And the thought of her lying in Rhett’s arms roused a fury in him that she did not think possible.

Well, she could understand that.

If it wasn’t for the knowledge that his relations with Melanie were, necessarily, those of brother and sister, her own life would be a torment.

And Rhett’s embraces coarsened her, brutalized her!

Well, if Ashley thought that, she could do very well without those embraces.

She thought how sweet and romantic it would be for them both to be physically true to each other, even though married to other people.

The idea possessed her imagination and she took pleasure in it.

And then, too, there was the practical side of it.

It would mean that she would not have to have any more children.

When she reached home and dismissed the carriage, some of the exaltation which had filled her at Ashley’s words began to fade as she faced the prospect of telling Rhett that she wanted separate bedrooms and all which that implied.

It would be difficult.

Moreover, how could she tell Ashley that she had denied herself to Rhett, because of his wishes?

What earthly good was a sacrifice if no one knew about it?

What a burden modesty and delicacy were!

If she could only talk to Ashley as frankly as she could to Rhett!

Well, no matter.

She’d insinuate the truth to Ashley somehow.

She went up the stairs and, opening the nursery door, found Rhett sitting beside Bonnie’s crib with Ella upon his lap and Wade displaying the contents of his pocket to him.

What a blessing Rhett liked children and made much of them!

Some stepfathers were so bitter about children of former marriages.

“I want to talk to you,” she said and passed on into their bedroom.

Better have this over now while her determination not to have any more children was hot within her and while Ashley’s love was giving her strength.

“Rhett,” she said abruptly when he had closed the bedroom door behind him, “I’ve decided that I don’t want any more children.”

If he was startled at her unexpected statement he did not show it.

He lounged to a chair and sitting down, tilted it back.

“My pet, as I told you before Bonnie was born, it is immaterial to me whether you have one child or twenty.”

How perverse of him to evade the issue so neatly, as if not caring whether children came had anything to do with their actual arrival.

“I think three are enough.

I don’t intend to have one every year.”

“Three seems an adequate number.”

“You know very well—” she began, embarrassment making her cheeks red.

“You know what I mean?”

“I do.

Do you realize that I can divorce you for refusing me my marital rights?”

“You are just low enough to think of something like that,” she cried, annoyed that nothing was going as she planned it.

“If you had any chivalry you’d—you’d be nice like— Well, look at Ashley Wilkes.

Melanie can’t have any children and he—”

“Quite the little gentleman, Ashley,” said Rhett and his eyes began to gleam oddly.

“Pray go on with your discourse.”

Scarlett choked, for her discourse was at its end and she had nothing more to say.

Now she saw how foolish had been her hope of amicably settling so important a matter, especially with a selfish swine like Rhett.

“You’ve been to the lumber office this afternoon, haven’t you?”

“What has that to do with it?”

“You like dogs, don’t you, Scarlett?

Do you prefer them in kennels or mangers?”

The allusion was lost on her as the tide of her anger and disappointment rose.

He got lightly to his feet and coming to her put his hand under her chin and jerked her face up to his.

“What a child you are!

You have lived with three men and still know nothing of men’s natures.

You seem to think they are like old ladies past the change of life.”

He pinched her chin playfully and his hand dropped away from her.

One black eyebrow went up as he bent a cool long look on her.

“Scarlett, understand this.

If you and your bed still held any charms for me, no locks and no entreaties could keep me away.

And I would have no sense of shame for anything I did, for I made a bargain with you—a bargain which I have kept and you are now breaking.

Keep your chaste bed, my dear.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” cried Scarlett indignantly, “that you don’t care—”

“You have tired of me, haven’t you?

Well, men tire more easily than women.

Keep your sanctity, Scarlett.

It will work no hardship on me.

It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged and grinned.

“Fortunately the world is full of beds—and most of the beds are full of women.”

“You mean you’d actually be so—”

“My dear innocent!

But, of course.

It’s a wonder I haven’t strayed long ere this.

I never held fidelity to be a virtue.”

“I shall lock my door every night!”

“Why bother?

If I wanted you, no lock would keep me out.”

He turned, as though the subject were closed, and left the room.

Scarlett heard him going back to the nursery where he was welcomed by the children.

She sat down abruptly.

She had had her way.

This was what she wanted and Ashley wanted.

But it was not making her happy.

Her vanity was sore and she was mortified at the thought that Rhett had taken it all so lightly, that he didn’t want her, that he put her on the level of other women in other beds.

She wished she could think of some delicate way to tell Ashley that she and Rhett were no longer actually man and wife.

But she knew now she could not.

It all seemed a terrible mess now and she half heartedly wished she had said nothing about it.

She would miss the long amusing conversations in bed with Rhett when the ember of his cigar glowed in the dark.

She would miss the comfort of his arms when she woke terrified from dreams that she was running through cold mist.

Suddenly she felt very unhappy and leaning her head on the arm of the chair, she cried.

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐈.

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ONE RAINY AFTERNOON when Bonnie was barely past her first birthday, Wade moped about the sitting room, occasionally going to the window and flattening his nose on the dripping pane.

He was a slender, weedy boy, small for his eight years, quiet almost to shyness, never speaking unless spoken to.

He was bored and obviously at loss for entertainment, for Ella was busy in the corner with her dolls, Scarlett was at her secretary muttering to herself as she added a long column of figures and Rhett was lying on the floor, swinging his watch by its chain, just out of Bonnie’s reach.

After Wade had picked up several books and let them drop with bangs and sighed deeply, Scarlett turned to him in irritation.

“Heavens, Wade!

Run out and play.”

“I can’t.

It’s raining.”

“Is it?

I hadn’t noticed.

Well, do something.

You make me nervous, fidgeting about.

Go tell Pork to hitch up the carriage and take you over to play with Beau.”

“He isn’t home,” sighed Wade.

“He’s at Raoul Picard’s birthday party.”

Raoul was the small son of Maybelle and René Picard—a detestable little brat, Scarlett thought, more like an ape than a child.

“Well, you can go to see anyone you want to.

Run tell Pork.”

“Nobody’s at home,” answered Wade.

“Everybody’s at the party.”

The unspoken words “everybody—but me” hung in the air; but Scarlett, her mind on her account books, paid no heed.

Rhett raised himself to a sitting posture and said: “Why aren’t you at the party too, son?”

Wade edged closer to him, scuffing one foot and looking unhappy.

“I wasn’t invited, sir.”

Rhett handed his watch into Bonnie’s destructive grasp and rose lightly to his feet.

“Leave those damned figures alone, Scarlett.

Why wasn’t Wade invited to this party?”

“For Heaven’s sake, Rhett!

Don’t bother me now.

Ashley has gotten these accounts in an awful snarl— Oh, that party?

Well, I think it’s nothing unusual that Wade wasn’t invited and I wouldn’t let him go if he had been.

Don’t forget that Raoul is Mrs. Merriwether’s grandchild and Mrs. Merriwether would as soon have a free issue nigger in her sacred parlor as one of us.”

Rhett, watching Wade’s face with meditative eyes, saw the boy flinch.

“Come here, son,” he said, drawing the boy to him.

“Would you like to be at that party?”

“No, sir,” said Wade bravely but his eyes fell.

“Hum.

Tell me, Wade, do you go to little Joe Whiting’s parties or Frank Bonnell’s or—well, any of your playmates?”

“No, sir.

I don’t get invited to many parties.”

“Wade, you are lying!” cried Scarlett, turning.

“You went to three last week, the Bart children’s party and the Gelerts’ and the Hundons’.”

“As choice a collection of mules in horse harness as you could group together,” said Rhett, his voice going into a soft drawl.

“Did you have a good time at those parties?

Speak up.”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“I—I dunno, sir.

Mammy—Mammy says they’re white trash.”

“I’ll skin Mammy this minute!” cried Scarlett, leaping to her feet.

“And as for you, Wade, talking so about Mother’s friends—”

“The boy’s telling the truth and so is Mammy,” said Rhett.

“But, of course, you’ve never been able to know the truth if you met it in the road….

Don’t bother, son.

You don’t have to go to any more parties you don’t want to go to.

Here,” he pulled a bill from his pocket, “tell Pork to harness the carriage and take you downtown.

Buy yourself some candy—a lot, enough to give you a wonderful stomach ache.”

Wade, beaming, pocketed the bill and looked anxiously toward his mother for confirmation.

But she, with a pucker in her brows, was watching Rhett.

He had picked Bonnie from the floor and was cradling her to him, her small face against his cheek.

She could not read his face but there was something in his eyes almost like fear—fear and self-accusation.

Wade, encouraged by his stepfather’s generosity, came shyly toward him.

“Uncle Rhett, can I ask you sumpin’?”

“Of course.”

Rhett’s look was anxious, as he held Bonnie’s head closer.

“What is it, Wade?”

“Uncle Rhett, were you—did you fight in the war?”

Rhett’s eyes came alertly back and they were sharp, but his voice was casual.

“Why do you ask, son?”

“Well, Joe Whiting said you didn’t and so did Frankie Bonnell.”

“Ah,” said Rhett, “and what did you tell them?”

Wade looked unhappy.

“I—I said—I told them I didn’t know.”

And with a rush, “But I didn’t care and I hit them.

Were you in the war, Uncle Rhett?”

“Yes,” said Rhett, suddenly violent.

“I was in the war.

I was in the army for eight months.

I fought all the way from Lovejoy up to Franklin, Tennessee.

And I was with Johnston when he surrendered.”

Wade wriggled with pride but Scarlett laughed.

“I thought you were ashamed of your war record,” she said.

“Didn’t you tell me to keep it quiet?”

“Hush,” he said briefly.

“Does that satisfy you, Wade?”

“Oh, yes, sir!

I knew you were in the war.

I knew you weren’t scared like they said.

But—why weren’t you with the other little boys’ fathers?”

“Because the other little boys’ fathers were such fools they had to put them in the infantry.

I was a West Pointer and so I was in the artillery.

In the regular artillery, Wade, not the Home Guard.

It takes a pile of sense to be in the artillery, Wade.”

“I bet,” said Wade, his face shining.

“Did you get wounded, Uncle Rhett?”

Rhett hesitated.

“Tell him about your dysentery,” jeered Scarlett.

Rhett carefully set the baby on the floor and pulled his shirt and undershirt out of his trouser band.

“Come here, Wade, and I’ll show you where I was wounded.”

Wade advanced, excited, and gazed where Rhett’s finger pointed.

A long raised scar ran across his brown chest and down into his heavily muscled abdomen.

It was the souvenir of a knife fight in the California gold fields but Wade did not know it.

He breathed heavily and happily.

“I guess you’re ’bout as brave as my father, Uncle Rhett.”

“Almost but not quite,” said Rhett, stuffing his shirt into his trousers.

“Now, go on and spend your dollar and whale hell out of any boy who says I wasn’t in the army.”

Wade went dancing out happily, calling to Pork, and Rhett picked up the baby again.

“Now why all these lies, my gallant soldier laddie?” asked Scarlett.

“A boy has to be proud of his father—or his stepfather.

I can’t let him be ashamed before the other little brutes.

Cruel creatures, children.”

“Oh, fiddle-dee-dee!”

“I never thought about what it meant to Wade,” said Rhett slowly.

“I never thought how he’s suffered.

And it’s not going to be that way for Bonnie.”

“What way?”

“Do you think I’m going to have my Bonnie ashamed of her father?

Have her left out of parties when she’s nine or ten?

Do you think I’m going to have her humiliated like Wade for things that aren’t her fault but yours and mine?”

“Oh, children’s parties!”

“Out of children’s parties grow young girls’ debut parties.

Do you think I’m going to let my daughter grow up outside of everything decent in Atlanta?

I’m not going to send her North to school and to visit because she won’t be accepted here or in Charleston or Savannah or New Orleans.

And I’m not going to see her forced to marry a Yankee or a foreigner because no decent Southern family will have her—because her mother was a fool and her father a blackguard.”

Wade, who had come back to the door, was an interested but puzzled listener.

“Bonnie can marry Beau, Uncle Rhett.”

The anger went from Rhett’s face as he turned to the little boy, and he considered his words with apparent seriousness as he always did when dealing with the children.

“That’s true, Wade.

Bonnie can marry Beau Wilkes, but who will you marry?”

“Oh, I shan’t marry anyone,” said Wade confidently, luxuriating in a man-to-man talk with the one person, except Aunt Melly, who never reproved and always encouraged him.

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“I’m going to go to Harvard and be a lawyer, like my father, and then I’m going to be a brave soldier just like him.”

“I wish Melly would keep her mouth shut,” cried Scarlett.

“Wade, you are not going to Harvard.

It’s a Yankee school and I won’t have you going to a Yankee school.

You are going to the University of Georgia and after you graduate you are going to manage the store for me.

And as for your father being a brave soldier—”

“Hush,” said Rhett curtly, not missing the shining light in Wade’s eyes when he spoke of the father he had never known.

“You grow up and be a brave man like your father, Wade.

Try to be just like him, for he was a hero and don’t let anyone tell you differently.

He married your mother, didn’t he?

Well, that’s proof enough of heroism.

And I’ll see that you go to Harvard and become a lawyer.

Now, run along and tell Pork to take you to town.”

“I’ll thank you to let me manage my children,” cried Scarlett as Wade obediently trotted from the room.

“You’re a damned poor manager.

You’ve wrecked whatever chances Ella and Wade had, but I won’t permit you to do Bonnie that way.

Bonnie’s going to be a little princess and everyone in the world is going to want her.

There’s not going to be any place she can’t go.

Good God, do you think I’m going to let her grow up and associate with the riffraff that fills this house?”

“They are good enough for you—”

“And a damned sight too good for you, my pet.

But not for Bonnie.

Do you think I’d let her marry any of this runagate gang you spend your time with?

Irishmen on the make, Yankees, white trash, Carpetbag parvenus— My Bonnie with her Butler blood and her Robillard strain—”

“The O’Haras—”

“The O’Haras might have been kings of Ireland once but your father was nothing but a smart Mick on the make.

And you are no better— But then, I’m at fault too.

I’ve gone through life like a bat out of hell, never caring what I did, because nothing ever mattered to me.

But Bonnie matters.

God, what a fool I’ve been!

Bonnie wouldn’t be received in Charleston, no matter what my mother or your Aunt Eulalie or Aunt Pauline did—and it’s obvious that she won’t be received here unless we do something quickly—”

“Oh, Rhett, you take it so seriously you’re funny.

With our money—”

“Damn our money!

All our money can’t buy what I want for her.

I’d rather Bonnie was invited to eat dry bread in the Picards’ miserable house or Mrs. Elsing’s rickety barn than to be the belle of a Republican inaugural ball.

Scarlett, you’ve been a fool.

You should have insured a place for your children in the social scheme years ago—but you didn’t.

You didn’t even bother to keep what position you had.

And it’s too much to hope that you’ll mend your ways at this late date.

You’re too anxious to make money and too fond of bullying people.”

“I consider this whole affair a tempest in a teapot,” said Scarlett coldly, rattling her papers to indicate that as far as she was concerned the discussion was finished.

“We have only Mrs. Wilkes to help us and you do your best to alienate and insult her.

Oh, spare me your remarks about her poverty and her tacky clothes.

She’s the soul and the center of everything in Atlanta that’s sterling.

Thank God for her.

She’ll help me do something about it.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Do?

I’m going to cultivate every female dragon of the Old Guard in this town, especially Mrs. Merriwether, Mrs. Elsing, Mrs. Whiting and Mrs. Meade.

If I have to crawl on my belly to every fat old cat who hates me, I’ll do it.

I’ll be meek under their coldness and repentant of my evil ways.

I’ll contribute to their damned charities and I’ll go to their damned churches.

I’ll admit and brag about my services to the Confederacy and, if worst comes to worst, I’ll join their damned Klan—though a merciful God could hardly lay so heavy a penance on my shoulders as that.

And I shall not hesitate to remind the fools whose necks I saved that they owe me a debt.

And you, Madam, will kindly refrain from undoing my work behind my back by foreclosing mortgages on any of the people I’m courting or selling them rotten lumber or in other ways insulting them.

And Governor Bullock never sets foot in this house again.

Do you hear?

And none of this gang of elegant thieves you’ve been associating with, either.

If you do invite them, over my request, you will find yourself in the embarrassing position of having no host in your home.

If they come in this house, I will spend the time in Belle Watling’s bar telling anyone who cares to hear that I won’t stay under the same roof with them.”

Scarlett, who had been smarting under his words, laughed shortly.

“So the river-boat gambler and the speculator is going to be respectable!

Well, your first move toward respectability had better be the sale of Belle Watling’s house.”

That was a shot in the dark.

She had never been absolutely certain that Rhett owned the house.

He laughed suddenly, as though he read her mind.

“Thanks for the suggestion.”

Had he tried, Rhett could not have chosen a more difficult time to beat his way back to respectability.

Never before or after did the names Republican and Scallawag carry such odium, for now the corruption of the Carpetbag regime was at its height.

And, since the surrender, Rhett’s name had been inextricably linked with Yankees, Republicans and Scallawags.

Atlanta people had thought, with helpless fury, in 1866, that nothing could be worse than the harsh military rule they had then, but now, under Bullock, they were learning the worst.

Thanks to the negro vote, the Republicans and their allies were firmly entrenched and they were riding roughshod over the powerless but still protesting minority.

Word had been spread among the negroes that there were only two political parties mentioned in the Bible, the Publicans and the Sinners.

No negro wanted to join a party made up entirely of sinners, so they hastened to join the Republicans.

Their new masters voted them over and over again, electing poor whites and Scallawags to high places, electing even some negroes.

These negroes sat in the legislature where they spent most of their time eating goobers and easing their unaccustomed feet into and out of new shoes.

Few of them could read or write.

They were fresh from cotton patch and canebrake, but it was within their power to vote taxes and bonds as well as enormous expense accounts to themselves and their Republican friends.

And they voted them.

The state staggered under taxes which were paid in fury, for the taxpayers knew that much of the money voted for public purposes was finding its way into private pockets.

Completely surrounding the state capital was a host of promoters, speculators, seekers after contracts and others hoping to profit from the orgy of spending, and many were growing shamelessly rich.

They had no difficulty at all in obtaining the state’s money for building railroads that were never built, for buying cars and engines that were never bought, for erecting public buildings that never existed except in the minds of their promoters.

Bonds were issued running into the millions.

Most of them were illegal and fraudulent but they were issued just the same.

The state treasurer, a Republican but an honest man, protested against the illegal issues and refused to sign them, but he and others who sought to check the abuses could do nothing against the tide that was running.

The state-owned railroad had once been an asset to the state but now it was a liability and its debts had piled up to the million mark.

It was no longer a railroad.

It was an enormous bottomless trough in which the hogs could swill and wallow.

Many of its officials were appointed for political reasons, regardless of their knowledge of the operation of railroads, there were three times as many people employed as were necessary, Republicans rode free on passes, carloads of negroes rode free on their happy jaunts about the state to vote and revote in the same elections.

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The mismanagement of the state road especially infuriated the taxpayers for, out of the earnings of the road, was to come the money for free schools.

But there were no earnings, there were only debts, and so there were no free schools.

Few had money to send their children to pay schools and there was a generation of children growing up in ignorance who would spread the seeds of illiteracy down the years.

But far and above their anger at the waste and mismanagement and graft was the resentment of the people at the bad light in which the governor represented them in the North.

When Georgia howled against corruption, the governor hastily went North, appeared before Congress and told of white outrages against negroes, of Georgia’s preparation for another rebellion and the need for a stern military rule in the state.

No Georgian wanted another war, no one wanted or needed bayonet rule.

All Georgia wanted was to be let alone so the state could recuperate.

But with the operation of what came to be known as the governor’s “slander mill,” the North saw only a rebellious state that needed a heavy hand, and a heavy hand was laid upon it.

It was a glorious spree for the gang which had Georgia by the throat.

There was an orgy of grabbing and over all there was a cold cynicism about open theft in high places that was chilling to contemplate.

Protests and efforts to resist accomplished nothing, for the state government was being upheld and supported by the power of the United States Army.

Atlanta cursed the name of Bullock and his Scallawags and Republicans and they cursed the name of anyone connected with them.

And Rhett was connected with them.

He had been in with them, so everyone said, in all their schemes.

But now, he turned against the stream in which he had drifted so short a while before, and began swimming arduously back against the current.

He went about his campaign slowly, subtly, not arousing the suspicions of Atlanta by the spectacle of a leopard trying to change his spots overnight.

He avoided his dubious cronies and was seen no more in the company of Yankee officers, Scallawags and Republicans.

He attended Democratic rallies and he ostentatiously voted the Democratic ticket.

He gave up high-stake card games and stayed comparatively sober.

If he went to Belle Watling’s house at all, he went by night and by stealth as did more respectable townsmen, instead of leaving his horse hitched in front of her door in the afternoons as an advertisement of his presence within.

And the congregation of the Episcopal Church almost fell out of their pews when he tiptoed in, late for services, with Wade’s hand held in his.

The congregation was as much stunned by Wade’s appearance as by Rhett’s, for the little boy was supposed to be a Catholic.

At least, Scarlett was one.

Or she was supposed to be one.

But she had not put foot in the church in years, for religion had gone from her as many of Ellen’s other teachings had gone.

Everyone thought she had neglected her boy’s religious education and thought more of Rhett for trying to rectify the matter, even if he did take the boy to the Episcopal Church instead of the Catholic.

Rhett could be grave of manner and charming when he chose to restrain his tongue and keep his black eyes from dancing maliciously.

It had been years since he had chosen to do this but he did it now, putting on gravity and charm, even as he put on waistcoats of more sober hues.

It was not difficult to gain a foothold of friendliness with the men who owed their necks to him.

They would have showed their appreciation long ago, had Rhett not acted as if their appreciation were a matter of small moment.

Now, Hugh Elsing, René, the Simmons boys, Andy Bonnell and the others found him pleasant, diffident about putting himself forward and embarrassed when they spoke of the obligation they owed him.

“It was nothing,” he would protest.

“In my place you’d have all done the same thing.”

He subscribed handsomely to the fund for the repairs of the Episcopal Church and he gave a large, but not vulgarly large, contribution to the Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead.

He sought out Mrs. Elsing to make this donation and embarrassedly begged that she keep his gift a secret, knowing very well that this would spur her to spreading the news.

Mrs. Elsing hated to take his money—“speculator money”—but the Association needed money badly.

“I don’t see why you of all people should be subscribing,” she said acidly.

When Rhett told her with the proper sober mien that he was moved to contribute by the memories of former comrades in arms, braver than he but less fortunate, who now lay in unmarked graves, Mrs. Elsing’s aristocratic jaw dropped.

Dolly Merriwether had told her Scarlett had said Captain Butler was in the army but, of course, she hadn’t believed it.

Nobody had believed it.

“You in the army?

What was your company—your regiment?”

Rhett gave them.

“Oh, the artillery!

Everyone I knew was either in the cavalry or the infantry.

Then, that explains—”

She broke off, disconcerted, expecting to see his eyes snap with malice.

But he only looked down and toyed with his watch chain.

“I would have liked the infantry,” he said, passing completely over her insinuation, “but when they found that I was a West Pointer—though I did not graduate, Mrs. Elsing, due to a boyish prank—they put me in the artillery, the regular artillery, not the militia.

They needed men with specialized knowledge in that last campaign.

You know how heavy the losses had been, so many artillerymen killed.

It was pretty lonely in the artillery.

I didn’t see a soul I knew.

I don’t believe I saw a single man from Atlanta during my whole service.”

“Well!” said Mrs. Elsing, confused.

If he had been in the army then she was in the wrong.

She had made many sharp remarks about his cowardice and the memory of them made her feel guilty.

“Well!

And why haven’t you ever told anybody about your service?

You act as though you were ashamed of it.”

Rhett looked her squarely in the eyes, his face blank.

“Mrs. Elsing,” he said earnestly, “believe me when I say that I am prouder of my services to the Confederacy than of anything I have ever done or will do.

I feel—I feel—”

“Well, why do you keep it hidden?”

“I was ashamed to speak of it, in the light of—of some of my former actions.”

Mrs. Elsing reported the contribution and the conversation in detail to Mrs. Merriwether.

“And, Dolly, I give you my word that when he said that about being ashamed, tears came into his eyes!

Yes, tears!

I nearly cried myself.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” cried Mrs. Merriwether in disbelief.

“I don’t believe tears came into his eyes any more than I believe he was in the army.

And I can find out mighty quick.

If he was in that artillery outfit, I can get at the truth, for Colonel Carleton who commanded it married the daughter of one of my grandfather’s sisters and I’ll write him.”

She wrote Colonel Carleton and to her consternation received a reply praising Rhett’s services in no uncertain terms.

A born artilleryman, a brave soldier and an uncomplaining gentleman, a modest man who wouldn’t even take a commission when it was offered him.

“Well!” said Mrs. Merriwether showing the letter to Mrs. Elsing.

“You can knock me down with a feather!

Maybe we did misjudge the scamp about not being a soldier.

Maybe we should have believed what Scarlett and Melanie said about him enlisting the day the town fell.

But, just the same, he’s a Scallawag and a rascal and I don’t like him!”

“Somehow,” said Mrs. Elsing uncertainly, “somehow, I don’t think he’s so bad.

A man who fought for the Confederacy can’t be all bad.

It’s Scarlett who is the bad one.

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Do you know, Dolly, I really believe that he—well, he’s ashamed of Scarlett but is too much of a gentleman to let on.”

“Ashamed!

Pooh!

They’re both cut out of the same piece of cloth.

Where did you ever get such a silly notion?”

“It isn’t silly,” said Mrs. Elsing indignantly. “Yesterday, in the pouring rain, he had those three children, even the baby, mind you, out in his carriage riding them up and down Peachtree Street and he gave me a lift home.

And when I said: ‘Captain Butler, have you lost your mind keeping these children out in the damp?

Why don’t you take them home?’

And he didn’t say a word but just looked embarrassed.

But Mammy spoke up and said: ‘De house full of w’ite trash an’ it healthier fer de chillun in de rain dan at home!’”

“What did he say?”

“What could he say?

He just scowled at Mammy and passed it over.

You know Scarlett was giving a big whist party yesterday afternoon with all those common ordinary women there.

I guess he didn’t want them kissing his baby.”

“Well!” said Mrs. Merriwether, wavering but still obstinate.

But the next week she, too, capitulated.

Rhett now had a desk in the bank.

What he did at this desk the bewildered officials of the bank did not know, but he owned too large a block of the stock for them to protest his presence there.

After a while they forgot that they had objected to him for he was quiet and well mannered and actually knew something about banking and investments.

At any rate he sat at his desk all day, giving every appearance of industry, for he wished to be on equal terms with his respectable fellow townsmen who worked and worked hard.

Mrs. Merriwether, wishing to expand her growing bakery, had tried to borrow two thousand dollars from the bank with her house as security.

She had been refused because there were already two mortgages on the house.

The stout old lady was storming out of the bank when Rhett stopped her, learned the trouble and said, worriedly: “But there must be some mistake, Mrs. Merriwether.

Some dreadful mistake.

You of all people shouldn’t have to bother about collateral.

Why, I’d lend you money just on your word!

Any lady who could build up the business you’ve built up is the best risk in the world!

The bank wants to lend money to people like you.

Now, do sit down right here in my chair and I will attend to it for you.”

When he came back he was smiling blandly, saying that there had been a mistake, just as he had thought.

The two thousand dollars was right there waiting for her whenever she cared to draw against it.

Now, about her house—would she just sign right here?

Mrs. Merriwether, torn with indignation and insult, furious that she had to take this favor from a man she disliked and distrusted, was hardly gracious in her thanks.

But he failed to notice it.

As he escorted her to the door, he said: “Mrs. Merriwether, I have always had a great regard for your knowledge and I wonder if you could tell me something?”

The plumes on her bonnet barely moved as she nodded.

“What did you do when your Maybelle was little and she sucked her thumb?”

“What?”

“My Bonnie sucks her thumb.

I can’t make her stop it.”

“You should make her stop it,” said Mrs. Merriwether vigorously.

“It will ruin the shape of her mouth.”

“I know!

I know!

And she has a beautiful mouth.

But I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, Scarlett ought to know,” said Mrs. Merriwether shortly.

“She’s had two other children.”

Rhett looked down at his shoes and sighed.

“I’ve tried putting soap under her finger nails,” he said, passing over her remark about Scarlett.

“Soap!

Bah!

Soap is no good at all.

I put quinine on Maybelle’s thumb and let me tell you, Captain Butler, she stopped sucking that thumb mighty quick.”

“Quinine!

I would never have thought of it!

I can’t thank you enough, Mrs. Merriwether.

It was worrying me.”

He gave her a smile, so pleasant, so grateful that Mrs. Merriwether stood uncertainly for a moment.

But as she told him good-by she was smiling too.

She hated to admit to Mrs. Elsing that she had misjudged the man but she was an honest person and she said there had to be something good about a man who loved his child.

What a pity Scarlett took no interest in so pretty a creature as Bonnie!

There was something pathetic about a man trying to raise a little girl all by himself!

Rhett knew very well the pathos of the spectacle, and if it blackened Scarlett’s reputation he did not care.

From the time the child could walk he took her about with him constantly, in the carriage or in front of his saddle.

When he came home from the bank in the afternoon, he took her walking down Peachtree Street, holding her hand, slowing his long strides to her toddling steps, patiently answering her thousand questions.

People were always in their front yards or on their porches at sunset and, as Bonnie was such a friendly, pretty child, with her tangle of black curls and her bright blue eyes, few could resist talking to her.

Rhett never presumed on these conversations but stood by, exuding fatherly pride and gratification at the notice taken of his daughter.

Atlanta had a long memory and was suspicious and slow to change.

Times were hard and feeling was bitter against anyone who had had anything to do with Bullock and his crowd.

But Bonnie had the combined charm of Scarlett and Rhett at their best and she was the small opening wedge Rhett drove into the wall of Atlanta’s coldness.

********

Bonnie grew rapidly and every day it became more evident that Gerald O’Hara had been her grandfather.

She had short sturdy legs and wide eyes of Irish blue and a small square jaw that went with a determination to have her own way.

She had Gerald’s sudden temper to which she gave vent in screaming tantrums that were forgotten as soon as her wishes were gratified.

And as long as her father was near her, they were always gratified hastily.

He spoiled her despite all the efforts of Mammy and Scarlett, for in all things she pleased him, except one.

And that was her fear of the dark.

Until she was two years old she went to sleep readily in the nursery she shared with Wade and Ella.

Then, for no apparent reason, she began to sob whenever Mammy waddled out of the room, carrying the lamp.

From this she progressed to wakening in the late night hours, screaming with terror, frightening the other two children and alarming the house.

Once Dr. Meade had to be called and Rhett was short with him when he diagnosed only bad dreams.

All anyone could get from her was one word, “Dark.”

Scarlett was inclined to be irritated with the child and favored a spanking.

She would not humor her by leaving a lamp burning in the nursery, for then Wade and Ella would be unable to sleep.

Rhett, worried but gentle, attempting to extract further information from his daughter, said coldly that if any spanking were done, he would do it personally and to Scarlett.

The upshot of the situation was that Bonnie was removed from the nursery to the room Rhett now occupied alone.

Her small bed was placed beside his large one and a shaded lamp burned on the table all night long.

The town buzzed when this story got about.

Somehow, there was something indelicate about a girl child sleeping in her father’s room, even though the girl was only two years old.

Scarlett suffered from this gossip in two ways.

First, it proved indubitably that she and her husband occupied separate rooms, in itself a shocking enough state of affairs.

Second, everyone thought that if the child was afraid to sleep alone, her place was with her mother.

And Scarlett did not feel equal to explaining that she could not sleep in a lighted room nor would Rhett permit the child to sleep with her.

“You’d never wake up unless she screamed and then you’d probably slap her,” he said shortly.

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Scarlett was annoyed at the weight he attached to Bonnie’s night terrors but she thought she could eventually remedy the state of affairs and transfer the child back to the nursery.

All children were afraid of the dark and the only cure was firmness.

Rhett was just being perverse in the matter, making her appear a poor mother, just to pay her back for banishing him from her room.

He had never put foot in her room or even rattled the door knob since the night she told him she did not want any more children.

Thereafter and until he began staying at home on account of Bonnie’s fears, he had been absent from the supper table more often than he had been present.

Sometimes he had stayed out all night and Scarlett, lying awake behind her locked door, hearing the clock tick off the early morning hours, wondered where he was.

She remembered: “There are other beds, my dear!”

Though the thought made her writhe, there was nothing she could do about it.

There was nothing she could say that would not precipitate a scene in which he would be sure to remark upon her locked door and the probable connection Ashley had with it.

Yes, his foolishness about Bonnie sleeping in a lighted room—in his lighted room—was just a mean way of paying her back.

She did not realize the importance he attached to Bonnie’s foolishness nor the completeness of his devotion to the child until one dreadful night.

The family never forgot that night.

That day Rhett had met an ex-blockade runner and they had had much to say to each other.

Where they had gone to talk and drink, Scarlett did not know but she suspected, of course, Belle Watling’s house.

He did not come home in the afternoon to take Bonnie walking nor did he come home to supper.

Bonnie, who had watched from the window impatiently all afternoon, anxious to display a mangled collection of beetles and roaches to her father, had finally been put to bed by Lou, amid wails and protests.

Either Lou had forgotten to light the lamp or it had burned out.

No one ever knew exactly what happened but when Rhett finally came home, somewhat the worse for drink, the house was in an uproar and Bonnie’s screams reached him even in the stables.

She had waked in darkness and called for him and he had not been there.

All the nameless horrors that peopled her small imagination clutched her.

All the soothing and bright lights brought by Scarlett and the servants could not quiet her and Rhett, coming up the stairs three at a jump, looked like a man who has seen Death.

When he finally had her in his arms and from her sobbing gasps had recognized only one word “Dark,” he turned on Scarlett and the negroes in fury.

“Who put out the light?

Who left her alone in the dark?

Prissy, I’ll skin you for this, you—”

“Gawdlmighty, Mist’ Rhett!

’Twarn’t me!

’Twuz Lou!”

“Fo’ Gawd, Mist’ Rhett, Ah—”

“Shut up.

You know my orders.

By God, I’ll—get out.

Don’t come back.

Scarlett, give her some money and see that she’s gone before I come down stairs.

Now, everybody get out, everybody!”

The negroes fled, the luckless Lou wailing into her apron.

But Scarlett remained.

It was hard to see her favorite child quieting in Rhett’s arms when she had screamed so pitifully in her own.

It was hard to see the small arm going around his neck and hear the choking voice relate what had frightened her, when she, Scarlett, had gotten nothing coherent out of her.

“So it sat on your chest,” said Rhett softly.

“Was it a big one?”

“Oh, yes!

Dretfull big.

And claws.”

“Ah, claws, too.

Well, now.

I shall certainly sit up all night and shoot him if he comes back.”

Rhett’s voice was interested and soothing and Bonnie’s sobs died away.

Her voice became less choked as she went into detailed description of her monster guest in a language which only he could understand.

Irritation stirred in Scarlett as Rhett discussed the matter as if it had been something real.

“For Heaven’s sake, Rhett—”

But he made a sign for silence.

When Bonnie was at last asleep, he laid her in her bed and pulled up the sheet.

“I’m going to skin that nigger alive,” he said quietly.

“It’s your fault too.

Why didn’t you come up here to see if the light was burning?”

“Don’t be a fool, Rhett,” she whispered.

“She gets this way because you humor her.

Lots of children are afraid of the dark but they get over it.

Wade was afraid but I didn’t pamper him.

If you’d just let her scream for a night or two—”

“Let her scream!”

For a moment Scarlett thought he would hit her.

“Either you are a fool or the most inhuman woman I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t want her to grow up nervous and cowardly.”

“Cowardly?

Hell’s afire!

There isn’t a cowardly bone in her body!

But you haven’t any imagination and, of course, you can’t appreciate the tortures of people who have one—especially a child.

If something with claws and horns came and sat on your chest, you’d tell it to get the hell off you, wouldn’t you?

Like hell you would!

Kindly remember, Madam, that I’ve seen you wake up squalling like a scalded cat simply because you dreamed of running in a fog.

And that’s not been so long ago either!”

Scarlett was taken aback, for she never liked to think of that dream.

Moreover, it embarrassed her to remember that Rhett had comforted her in much the same manner he comforted Bonnie.

So she swung rapidly into a different attack.

“You are just humoring her and—”

“And I intend to keep on humoring her.

If I do, she’ll outgrow it and forget about it.”

“Then,” said Scarlett acidly, “if you intend to play nursemaid, you might try coming home at nights and sober too, for a change.”

“I shall come home early but drunk as a fiddler’s bitch if I please.”

He did come home early thereafter, arriving long before time for Bonnie to be put to bed.

He sat beside her, holding her hand until sleep loosened her grasp.

Only then did he tiptoe downstairs, leaving the lamp burning brightly and the door ajar so he might hear her should she awake and become frightened.

Never again did he intend her to have a recurrence of fear of the dark.

The whole household was acutely conscious of the burning light, Scarlett, Mammy, Prissy and Pork, frequently tiptoeing upstairs to make sure that it still burned.

He came home sober too, but that was none of Scarlett’s doing.

For months he had been drinking heavily, though he was never actually drunk, and one evening the smell of whisky was especially strong upon his breath.

He picked up Bonnie, swung her to his shoulder and asked her: “Have you a kiss for your sweetheart?”

She wrinkled her small upturned nose and wriggled to get down from his arms.

“No,” she said frankly.

“Nasty.”

“I’m what?”

“Smell nasty.

Uncle Ashley don’t smell nasty.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said ruefully, putting her on the floor.

“I never expected to find a temperance advocate in my own home, of all places!”

But, thereafter, he limited his drinking to a glass of wine after supper.

Bonnie, who was always permitted to have the last drops in the glass, did not think the smell of wine nasty at all.

As the result, the puffiness which had begun to obscure the hard lines of his cheeks slowly disappeared and the circles beneath his black eyes were not so dark or so harshly cut.

Because Bonnie liked to ride on the front of his saddle, he stayed out of doors more and the sunburn began to creep across his dark face, making him swarthier than ever.

He looked healthier and laughed more and was again like the dashing young blockader who had excited Atlanta early in the war.

People who had never liked him came to smile as he went by with the small figure perched before him on his saddle.

Women who had heretofore believed that no woman was safe with him, began to stop and talk with him on the streets, to admire Bonnie.

Even the strictest old ladies felt that a man who could discuss the ailments and problems of childhood as well as he did could not be altogether bad.