Gone With The Wind

Chapter 2

When the twins left Scarlett standing on the porch of Tara and thelast sound of flying hooves had died away, she went back to herchair like a sleepwalker. Her face felt stiff as from pain andher mouth actually hurt from having stretched it, unwillingly, insmiles to prevent the twins from learning her secret. She satdown wearily, tucking one foot under her, and her heart swelled upwith misery, until it felt too large for her bosom. It beat withodd little jerks; her hands were cold, and a feeling of disasteroppressed her. There were pain and bewilderment in her face, thebewilderment of a pampered child who has always had her own wayfor the asking and who now, for the first time, was in contactwith the unpleasantness of life.Ashley to marry Melanie Hamilton!Oh, it couldn't be true! The twins were mistaken. They wereplaying one of their jokes on her. Ashley couldn't, couldn't bein love with her. Nobody could, not with a mousy little personlike Melanie. Scarlett recalled with contempt Melanie's thinchildish figure, her serious heart-shaped face that was plainalmost to homeliness. And Ashley couldn't have seen her in months. He hadn't been in Atlanta more than twice since the houseparty he gave last year at Twelve Oaks. No, Ashley couldn't be inlove with Melanie, because--oh, she couldn't be mistaken!--becausehe was in love with her! She, Scarlett, was the one he loved--sheknew it!Scarlett heard Mammy's lumbering tread shaking the floor of thehall and she hastily untucked her foot and tried to rearrange herface in more placid lines. It would never do for Mammy to suspectthat anything was wrong. Mammy felt that she owned the O'Haras,body and soul, that their secrets were her secrets; and even ahint of a mystery was enough to set her upon the trail asrelentlessly as a bloodhound. Scarlett knew from experience that,if Mammy's curiosity were not immediately satisfied, she wouldtake up the matter with Ellen, and then Scarlett would be forcedto reveal everything to her mother, or think up some plausiblelie.Mammy emerged from the hall, a huge old woman with the small,shrewd eyes of an elephant. She was shining black, pure African,devoted to her last drop of blood to the O'Haras, Ellen'smainstay, the despair of her three daughters, the terror of theother house servants. Mammy was black, but her code of conductand her sense of pride were as high as or higher than those of herowners. She had been raised in the bedroom of Solange Robillard,Ellen O'Hara's mother, a dainty, cold, high-nosed French-woman,who spared neither her children nor her servants their justpunishment for any infringement of decorum. She had been Ellen'smammy and had come with her from Savannah to the up-country whenshe married. Whom Mammy loved, she chastened. And, as her lovefor Scarlett and her pride in her were enormous, the chasteningprocess was practically continuous."Is de gempmum gone? Huccome you din' ast dem ter stay fersupper, Miss Scarlett? Ah done tole Poke ter lay two extry platesfer dem. Whar's yo' manners?""Oh, I was so tired of hearing them talk about the war that Icouldn't have endured it through supper, especially with Pajoining in and shouting about Mr. Lincoln.""You ain' got no mo' manners dan a fe'el han', an' after MissEllen an' me done labored wid you. An' hyah you is widout yo'shawl! An' de night air fixin' ter set in! Ah done tole you an'tole you 'bout gittin' fever frum settin' in de night air widnuthin' on yo' shoulders. Come on in de house, Miss Scarlett."Scarlett turned away from Mammy with studied nonchalance, thankfulthat her face had been unnoticed in Mammy's preoccupation with thematter of the shawl. "No, I want to sit here and watch the sunset. It's so pretty.You run get my shawl. Please, Mammy, and I'll sit here till Pacomes home.""Yo' voice soun' lak you catchin' a cole," said Mammy suspiciously."Well, I'm not," said Scarlett impatiently. "You fetch me myshawl."Mammy waddled back into the hall and Scarlett heard her callsoftly up the stairwell to the upstairs maid."You, Rosa! Drap me Miss Scarlett's shawl." Then, more loudly:"Wuthless nigger! She ain' never whar she does nobody no good.Now, Ah got ter climb up an' git it mahseff."Scarlett heard the stairs groan and she got softly to her feet.When Mammy returned she would resume her lecture on Scarlett'sbreach of hospitality, and Scarlett felt that she could not endureprating about such a trivial matter when her heart was breaking.As she stood, hesitant, wondering where she could hide until theache in her breast subsided a little, a thought came to her,bringing a small ray of hope. Her father had ridden over toTwelve Oaks, the Wilkes plantation, that afternoon to offer to buyDilcey, the broad wife of his valet, Pork. Dilcey was head womanand midwife at Twelve Oaks, and, since the marriage six monthsago, Pork had deviled his master night and day to buy Dilcey, sothe two could live on the same plantation. That afternoon,Gerald, his resistance worn thin, had set out to make an offer forDilcey.Surely, thought Scarlett, Pa will know whether this awful story istrue. Even if he hasn't actually heard anything this afternoon,perhaps he's noticed something, sensed some excitement in theWilkes family. If I can just see him privately before supper,perhaps I'll find out the truth--that it's just one of the twins'nasty practical jokes.It was time for Gerald's return and, if she expected to see himalone, there was nothing for her to do except meet him where thedriveway entered the road. She went quietly down the front steps,looking carefully over her shoulder to make sure Mammy was notobserving her from the upstairs windows. Seeing no broad blackface, turbaned in snowy white, peering disapprovingly from betweenfluttering curtains, she boldly snatched up her green floweredskirts and sped down the path toward the driveway as fast as hersmall ribbon-laced slippers would carry her.The dark cedars on either side of the graveled drive met in an arch overhead, turning the long avenue into a dim tunnel. As soonas she was beneath the gnarled arms of the cedars, she knew shewas safe from observation from the house and she slowed her swiftpace. She was panting, for her stays were laced too tightly topermit much running, but she walked on as rapidly as she could.Soon she was at the end of the driveway and out on the main road,but she did not stop until she had rounded a curve that put alarge clump of trees between her and the house.Flushed and breathing hard, she sat down on a stump to wait forher father. It was past time for him to come home, but she wasglad that he was late. The delay would give her time to quiet herbreathing and calm her face so that his suspicions would not bearoused. Every moment she expected to hear the pounding of hishorse's hooves and see him come charging up the hill at his usualbreakneck speed. But the minutes slipped by and Gerald did notcome. She looked down the road for him, the pain in her heartswelling up again."Oh, it can't be true!" she thought. "Why doesn't he come?"Her eyes followed the winding road, blood-red now after themorning rain. In her thought she traced its course as it ran downthe hill to the sluggish Flint River, through the tangled swampybottoms and up the next hill to Twelve Oaks where Ashley lived.That was all the road meant now--a road to Ashley and thebeautiful white-columned house that crowned the hill like a GreekTemple."Oh, Ashley! Ashley!" she thought, and her heart beat faster.Some of the cold sense of bewilderment and disaster that hadweighted her down since the Tarleton boys told her their gossipwas pushed into the background of her mind, and in its place creptthe fever that had possessed her for two years.It seemed strange now that when she was growing up Ashley hadnever seemed so very attractive to her. In childhood days, shehad seen him come and go and never given him a thought. But sincethat day two years ago when Ashley, newly home from his threeyears' Grand Tour in Europe, had called to pay his respects, shehad loved him. It was as simple as that.She had been on the front porch and he had ridden up the longavenue, dressed in gray broadcloth with a wide black cravatsetting off his frilled shirt to perfection. Even now, she couldrecall each detail of his dress, how brightly his boots shone, thehead of a Medusa in cameo on his cravat pin, the wide Panama hatthat was instantly in his hand when he saw her. He had alightedand tossed his bridle reins to a pickaninny and stood looking up at her, his drowsy gray eyes wide with a smile and the sun sobright on his blond hair that it seemed like a cap of shiningsilver. And he said, "So you've grown up, Scarlett." And, cominglightly up the steps, he had kissed her hand. And his voice! Shewould never forget the leap of her heart as she heard it, as iffor the first time, drawling, resonant, musical.She had wanted him, in that first instant, wanted him as simplyand unreasoningly as she wanted food to eat, horses to ride and asoft bed on which to lay herself.For two years he had squired her about the County, to balls, fishfries, picnics and court days, never so often as the Tarletontwins or Cade Calvert, never so importunate as the youngerFontaine boys, but, still, never the week went by that Ashley didnot come calling at Tara.True, he never made love to her, nor did the clear gray eyes everglow with that hot light Scarlett knew so well in other men. Andyet--and yet--she knew he loved her. She could not be mistakenabout it. Instinct stronger than reason and knowledge born ofexperience told her that he loved her. Too often she hadsurprised him when his eyes were neither drowsy nor remote, whenhe looked at her with a yearning and a sadness which puzzled her.She KNEW he loved her. Why did he not tell her so? That shecould not understand. But there were so many things about himthat she did not understand.He was courteous always, but aloof, remote. No one could evertell what he was thinking about, Scarlett least of all. In aneighborhood where everyone said exactly what he thought as soonas he thought it, Ashley's quality of reserve was exasperating.He was as proficient as any of the other young men in the usualCounty diversions, hunting, gambling, dancing and politics, andwas the best rider of them all; but he differed from all the restin that these pleasant activities were not the end and aim of lifeto him. And he stood alone in his interest in books and music andhis fondness for writing poetry.Oh, why was he so handsomely blond, so courteously aloof, somaddeningly boring with his talk about Europe and books and musicand poetry and things that interested her not at all--and yet sodesirable? Night after night, when Scarlett went to bed aftersitting on the front porch in the semi-darkness with him, shetossed restlessly for hours and comforted herself only with thethought that the very next time he saw her he certainly wouldpropose. But the next time came and went, and the result wasnothing--nothing except that the fever possessing her rose higherand hotter. She loved him and she wanted him and she did not understand him.She was as forthright and simple as the winds that blew over Taraand the yellow river that wound about it, and to the end of herdays she would never be able to understand a complexity. And now,for the first time in her life, she was facing a complex nature.For Ashley was born of a line of men who used their leisure forthinking, not doing, for spinning brightly colored dreams that hadin them no touch of reality. He moved in an inner world that wasmore beautiful than Georgia and came back to reality withreluctance. He looked on people, and he neither liked nordisliked them. He looked on life and was neither heartened norsaddened. He accepted the universe and his place in it for whatthey were and, shrugging, turned to his music and books and hisbetter world.Why he should have captivated Scarlett when his mind was astranger to hers she did not know. The very mystery of himexcited her curiosity like a door that had neither lock nor key.The things about him which she could not understand only made herlove him more, and his odd, restrained courtship only served toincrease her determination to have him for her own. That he wouldpropose some day she had never doubted, for she was too young andtoo spoiled ever to have known defeat. And now, like a thunderclap,had come this horrible news. Ashley to marry Melanie! It couldn'tbe true!Why, only last week, when they were riding home at twilight fromFairhill, he had said: "Scarlett, I have something so importantto tell you that I hardly know how to say it."She had cast down her eyes demurely, her heart beating with wildpleasure, thinking the happy moment had come. Then he had said:"Not now! We're nearly home and there isn't time. Oh, Scarlett,what a coward I am!" And putting spurs to his horse, he had racedher up the hill to Tara.Scarlett, sitting on the stump, thought of those words which hadmade her so happy, and suddenly they took on another meaning, ahideous meaning. Suppose it was the news of his engagement he hadintended to tell her!Oh, if Pa would only come home! She could not endure the suspenseanother moment. She looked impatiently down the road again, andagain she was disappointed.The sun was now below the horizon and the red glow at the rim ofthe world faded into pink. The sky above turned slowly from azureto the delicate blue-green of a robin's egg, and the unearthlystillness of rural twilight came stealthily down about her. Shadowy dimness crept over the countryside. The red furrows andthe gashed red road lost their magical blood color and becameplain brown earth. Across the road, in the pasture, the horses,mules and cows stood quietly with heads over the split-rail fence,waiting to be driven to the stables and supper. They did not likethe dark shade of the thickets hedging the pasture creek, and theytwitched their ears at Scarlett as if appreciative of humancompanionship.In the strange half-light, the tall pines of the river swamp, sowarmly green in the sunshine, were black against the pastel sky,an impenetrable row of black giants hiding the slow yellow waterat their feet. On the hill across the river, the tall whitechimneys of the Wilkes' home faded gradually into the darkness ofthe thick oaks surrounding them, and only far-off pin points ofsupper lamps showed that a house was here. The warm dampbalminess of spring encompassed her sweetly with the moist smellsof new-plowed earth and all the fresh green things pushing up tothe air.Sunset and spring and new-fledged greenery were no miracle toScarlett. Their beauty she accepted as casually as the air shebreathed and the water she drank, for she had never consciouslyseen beauty in anything but women's faces, horses, silk dressesand like tangible things. Yet the serene half-light over Tara'swell-kept acres brought a measure of quiet to her disturbed mind.She loved this land so much, without even knowing she loved it,loved it as she loved her mother's face under the lamp at prayertime.Still there was no sign of Gerald on the quiet winding road. Ifshe had to wait much longer, Mammy would certainly come in searchof her and bully her into the house. But even as she strained hereyes down the darkening road, she heard a pounding of hooves atthe bottom of the pasture hill and saw the horses and cows scatterin fright. Gerald O'Hara was coming home across country and attop speed.He came up the hill at a gallop on his thick-barreled, long-leggedhunter, appearing in the distance like a boy on a too large horse.His long white hair standing out behind him, he urged the horseforward with crop and loud cries.Filled with her own anxieties, she nevertheless watched him withaffectionate pride, for Gerald was an excellent horseman."I wonder why he always wants to jump fences when he's had a fewdrinks," she thought. "And after that fall he had right here lastyear when he broke his knee. You'd think he'd learn. Especiallywhen he promised Mother on oath he'd never jump again." Scarlett had no awe of her father and felt him more her contemporarythan her sisters, for jumping fences and keeping it a secret fromhis wife gave him a boyish pride and guilty glee that matched herown pleasure in outwitting Mammy. She rose from her seat to watchhim.The big horse reached the fence, gathered himself and soared overas effortlessly as a bird, his rider yelling enthusiastically, hiscrop beating the air, his white curls jerking out behind him.Gerald did not see his daughter in the shadow of the trees, and hedrew rein in the road, patting his horse's neck with approbation."There's none in the County can touch you, nor in the state," heinformed his mount, with pride, the brogue of County Meath stillheavy on his tongue in spite of thirty-nine years in America.Then he hastily set about smoothing his hair and settling hisruffled shirt and his cravat which had slipped awry behind oneear. Scarlett knew these hurried preenings were being made withan eye toward meeting his wife with the appearance of a gentlemanwho had ridden sedately home from a call on a neighbor. She knewalso that he was presenting her with just the opportunity shewanted for opening the conversation without revealing her truepurpose.She laughed aloud. As she had intended, Gerald was startled bythe sound; then he recognized her, and a look both sheepish anddefiant came over his florid face. He dismounted with difficulty,because his knee was stiff, and, slipping the reins over his arm,stumped toward her."Well, Missy," he said, pinching her cheek, "so, you've beenspying on me and, like your sister Suellen last week, you'll betelling your mother on me?"There was indignation in his hoarse bass voice but also awheedling note, and Scarlett teasingly clicked her tongue againsther teeth as she reached out to pull his cravat into place. Hisbreath in her face was strong with Bourbon whisky mingled with afaint fragrance of mint. Accompanying him also were the smells ofchewing tobacco, well-oiled leather and horses--a combination ofodors that she always associated with her father and instinctivelyliked in other men."No, Pa, I'm no tattletale like Suellen," she assured him,standing off to view his rearranged attire with a judicious air.Gerald was a small man, little more than five feet tall, but soheavy of barrel and thick of neck that his appearance, whenseated, led strangers to think him a larger man. His thickset torso was supported by short sturdy legs, always incased in thefinest leather boots procurable and always planted wide apart likea swaggering small boy's. Most small people who take themselvesseriously are a little ridiculous; but the bantam cock isrespected in the barnyard, and so it was with Gerald. No onewould ever have the temerity to think of Gerald O'Hara as aridiculous little figure.He was sixty years old and his crisp curly hair was silver-white,but his shrewd face was unlined and his hard little blue eyes wereyoung with the unworried youthfulness of one who has never taxedhis brain with problems more abstract than how many cards to drawin a poker game. His was as Irish a face as could be found in thelength and breadth of the homeland he had left so long ago--round,high colored, short nosed, wide mouthed and belligerent.Beneath his choleric exterior Gerald O'Hara had the tenderest ofhearts. He could not bear to see a slave pouting under areprimand, no matter how well deserved, or hear a kitten mewing ora child crying; but he had a horror of having this weaknessdiscovered. That everyone who met him did discover his kindlyheart within five minutes was unknown to him; and his vanity wouldhave suffered tremendously if he had found it out, for he liked tothink that when he bawled orders at the top of his voice everyonetrembled and obeyed. It had never occurred to him that only onevoice was obeyed on the plantation--the soft voice of his wifeEllen. It was a secret he would never learn, for everyone fromEllen down to the stupidest field hand was in a tacit and kindlyconspiracy to keep him believing that his word was law.Scarlett was impressed less than anyone else by his tempers andhis roarings. She was his oldest child and, now that Gerald knewthere would be no more sons to follow the three who lay in thefamily burying ground, he had drifted into a habit of treating herin a man-to-man manner which she found most pleasant. She wasmore like her father than her younger sisters, for Carreen, whohad been born Caroline Irene, was delicate and dreamy, andSuellen, christened Susan Elinor, prided herself on her eleganceand ladylike deportment.Moreover, Scarlett and her father were bound together by a mutualsuppression agreement. If Gerald caught her climbing a fenceinstead of walking half a mile to a gate, or sitting too late onthe front steps with a beau, he castigated her personally and withvehemence, but he did not mention the fact to Ellen or to Mammy.And when Scarlett discovered him jumping fences after his solemnpromise to his wife, or learned the exact amount of his losses atpoker, as she always did from County gossip, she refrained frommentioning the fact at the supper table in the artfully artlessmanner Suellen had. Scarlett and her father each assured the other solemnly that to bring such matters to the ears of Ellenwould only hurt her, and nothing would induce them to wound hergentleness.Scarlett looked at her father in the fading light, and, withoutknowing why, she found it comforting to be in his presence. Therewas something vital and earthy and coarse about him that appealedto her. Being the least analytic of people, she did not realizethat this was because she possessed in some degree these samequalities, despite sixteen years of effort on the part of Ellenand Mammy to obliterate them."You look very presentable now," she said, "and I don't thinkanyone will suspect you've been up to your tricks unless you bragabout them. But it does seem to me that after you broke your kneelast year, jumping that same fence--""Well, may I be damned if I'll have me own daughter telling mewhat I shall jump and not jump," he shouted, giving her cheekanother pinch. "It's me own neck, so it is. And besides, Missy,what are you doing out here without your shawl?"Seeing that he was employing familiar maneuvers to extricatehimself from unpleasant conversation, she slipped her arm throughhis and said: "I was waiting for you. I didn't know you would beso late. I just wondered if you had bought Dilcey.""Bought her I did, and the price has ruined me. Bought her andher little wench, Prissy. John Wilkes was for almost giving themaway, but never will I have it said that Gerald O'Hara usedfriendship in a trade. I made him take three thousand for the twoof them.""In the name of Heaven, Pa, three thousand! And you didn't needto buy Prissy!""Has the time come when me own daughters sit in judgment on me?"shouted Gerald rhetorically. "Prissy is a likely little wench andso--""I know her. She's a sly, stupid creature," Scarlett rejoinedcalmly, unimpressed by his uproar. "And the only reason youbought her was because Dilcey asked you to buy her."Gerald looked crestfallen and embarrassed, as always when caughtin a kind deed, and Scarlett laughed outright at his transparency."Well, what if I did? Was there any use buying Dilcey if she wasgoing to mope about the child? Well, never again will I let adarky on this place marry off it. It's too expensive. Well, come on, Puss, let's go in to supper."The shadows were falling thicker now, the last greenish tinge hadleft the sky and a slight chill was displacing the balminess ofspring. But Scarlett loitered, wondering how to bring up thesubject of Ashley without permitting Gerald to suspect her motive.This was difficult, for Scarlett had not a subtle bone in herbody; and Gerald was so much like her he never failed to penetrateher weak subterfuges, even as she penetrated his. And he wasseldom tactful in doing it."How are they all over at Twelve Oaks?""About as usual. Cade Calvert was there and, after I settledabout Dilcey, we all set on the gallery and had several toddies.Cade has just come from Atlanta, and it's all upset they are thereand talking war and--"Scarlett sighed. If Gerald once got on the subject of war andsecession, it would be hours before he relinquished it. She brokein with another line."Did they say anything about the barbecue tomorrow?""Now that I think of it they did. Miss--what's-her-name--thesweet little thing who was here last year, you know, Ashley'scousin--oh, yes, Miss Melanie Hamilton, that's the name--she andher brother Charles have already come from Atlanta and--""Oh, so she did come?""She did, and a sweet quiet thing she is, with never a word to sayfor herself, like a woman should be. Come now, daughter, don'tlag. Your mother will be hunting for us."Scarlett's heart sank at the news. She had hoped against hopethat something would keep Melanie Hamilton in Atlanta where shebelonged, and the knowledge that even her father approved of hersweet quiet nature, so different from her own, forced her into theopen."Was Ashley there, too?""He was." Gerald let go of his daughter's arm and turned, peeringsharply into her face. "And if that's why you came out here towait for me, why didn't you say so without beating around thebush?"Scarlett could think of nothing to say, and she felt her facegrowing red with annoyance. "Well, speak up."Still she said nothing, wishing that it was permissible to shakeone's father and tell him to hush his mouth."He was there and he asked most kindly after you, as did hissisters, and said they hoped nothing would keep you from thebarbecue tomorrow. I'll warrant nothing will," he said shrewdly."And now, daughter, what's all this about you and Ashley?""There is nothing," she said shortly, tugging at his arm. "Let'sgo in, Pa.""So now 'tis you wanting to go in," he observed. "But here I'mgoing to stand till I'm understanding you. Now that I think ofit, 'tis strange you've been recently. Has he been trifling withyou? Has he asked to marry you?""No," she said shortly."Nor will he," said Gerald.Fury flamed in her, but Gerald waved her quiet with a hand."Hold your tongue, Miss! I had it from John Wilkes this afternoonin the strictest confidence that Ashley's to marry Miss Melanie.It's to be announced tomorrow."Scarlett's hand fell from his arm. So it was true!A pain slashed at her heart as savagely as a wild animal's fangs.Through it all, she felt her father's eyes on her, a littlepitying, a little annoyed at being faced with a problem for whichhe knew no answer. He loved Scarlett, but it made him uncomfortableto have her forcing her childish problems on him for a solution.Ellen knew all the answers. Scarlett should have taken her troublesto her."Is it a spectacle you've been making of yourself--of all of us?"he bawled, his voice rising as always in moments of excitement."Have you been running after a man who's not in love with you,when you could have any of the bucks in the County?"Anger and hurt pride drove out some of the pain."I haven't been running after him. It--it just surprised me.""It's lying you are!" said Gerald, and then, peering at herstricken face, he added in a burst of kindliness: "I'm sorry, daughter. But after all, you are nothing but a child and there'slots of other beaux.""Mother was only fifteen when she married you, and I'm sixteen,"said Scarlett, her voice muffled."Your mother was different," said Gerald. "She was never flightylike you. Now come, daughter, cheer up, and I'll take you toCharleston next week to visit your Aunt Eulalie and, what with allthe hullabaloo they are having over there about Fort Sumter,you'll be forgetting about Ashley in a week.""He thinks I'm a child," thought Scarlett, grief and anger chokingutterance, "and he's only got to dangle a new toy and I'll forgetmy bumps.""Now, don't be jerking your chin at me," warned Gerald. "If youhad any sense you'd have married Stuart or Brent Tarleton longago. Think it over, daughter. Marry one of the twins and thenthe plantations will run together and Jim Tarleton and I willbuild you a fine house, right where they join, in that big pinegrove and--""Will you stop treating me like a child!" cried Scarlett. "Idon't want to go to Charleston or have a house or marry the twins.I only want--" She caught herself but not in time.Gerald's voice was strangely quiet and he spoke slowly as ifdrawing his words from a store of thought seldom used."It's only Ashley you're wanting, and you'll not be having him.And if he wanted to marry you, 'twould be with misgivings that I'dsay Yes, for all the fine friendship that's between me and JohnWilkes." And, seeing her startled look, he continued: "I want mygirl to be happy and you wouldn't be happy with him.""Oh, I would! I would!""That you would not, daughter. Only when like marries like canthere be any happiness."Scarlett had a sudden treacherous desire to cry out, "But you'vebeen happy, and you and Mother aren't alike," but she repressedit, fearing that he would box her ears for her impertinence."Our people and the Wilkes are different," he went on slowly,fumbling for words. "The Wilkes are different from any of ourneighbors--different from any family I ever knew. They are queerfolk, and it's best that they marry their cousins and keep theirqueerness to themselves." "Why, Pa, Ashley is not--""Hold your whist, Puss! I said nothing against the lad, for Ilike him. And when I say queer, it's not crazy I'm meaning. He'snot queer like the Calverts who'd gamble everything they have on ahorse, or the Tarletons who turn out a drunkard or two in everylitter, or the Fontaines who are hot-headed little brutes andafter murdering a man for a fancied slight. That kind ofqueerness is easy to understand, for sure, and but for the graceof God Gerald O'Hara would be having all those faults! And Idon't mean that Ashley would run off with another woman, if youwere his wife, or beat you. You'd be happier if he did, for atleast you'd be understanding that. But he's queer in other ways,and there's no understanding him at all. I like him, but it'sneither heads nor tails I can make of most he says. Now, Puss,tell me true, do you understand his folderol about books andpoetry and music and oil paintings and such foolishness?""Oh, Pa," cried Scarlett impatiently, "if I married him, I'dchange all that!""Oh, you would, would you now?" said Gerald testily, shooting asharp look at her. "Then it's little enough you are knowing ofany man living, let alone Ashley. No wife has ever changed ahusband one whit, and don't you be forgetting that. And as forchanging a Wilkes--God's nightgown, daughter! The whole family isthat way, and they've always been that way. And probably alwayswill. I tell you they're born queer. Look at the way they gotearing up to New York and Boston to hear operas and see oilpaintings. And ordering French and German books by the crate fromthe Yankees! And there they sit reading and dreaming the dear Godknows what, when they'd be better spending their time hunting andplaying poker as proper men should.""There's nobody in the County sits a horse better than Ashley,"said Scarlett, furious at the slur of effeminacy flung on Ashley,"nobody except maybe his father. And as for poker, didn't Ashleytake two hundred dollars away from you just last week inJonesboro?""The Calvert boys have been blabbing again," Gerald saidresignedly, "else you'd not be knowing the amount. Ashley canride with the best and play poker with the best--that's me, Puss!And I'm not denying that when he sets out to drink he can put eventhe Tarletons under the table. He can do all those things, buthis heart's not in it. That's why I say he's queer."Scarlett was silent and her heart sank. She could think of nodefense for this last, for she knew Gerald was right. Ashley's heart was in none of the pleasant things he did so well. He wasnever more than politely interested in any of the things thatvitally interested every one else.Rightly interpreting her silence, Gerald patted her arm and saidtriumphantly: "There now, Scarlett! You admit 'tis true. Whatwould you be doing with a husband like Ashley? 'Tis moonstruckthey all are, all the Wilkes." And then, in a wheedling tone:"When I was mentioning the Tarletons the while ago, I wasn'tpushing them. They're fine lads, but if it's Cade Calvert you'resetting your cap after, why, 'tis the same with me. The Calvertsare good folk, all of them, for all the old man marrying a Yankee.And when I'm gone--Whist, darlin', listen to me! I'll leave Tarato you and Cade--""I wouldn't have Cade on a silver tray," cried Scarlett in fury."And I wish you'd quit pushing him at me! I don't want Tara orany old plantation. Plantations don't amount to anything when--"She was going to say "when you haven't the man you want," butGerald, incensed by the cavalier way in which she treated hisproffered gift, the thing which, next to Ellen, he loved best inthe whole world uttered a roar."Do you stand there, Scarlett O'Hara, and tell me that Tara--thatland--doesn't amount to anything?"Scarlett nodded obstinately. Her heart was too sore to carewhether or not she put her father in a temper."Land is the only thing in the world that amounts to anything," heshouted, his thick, short arms making wide gestures of indignation,"for 'tis the only thing in this world that lasts, and don't you beforgetting it! 'Tis the only thing worth working for, worthfighting for--worth dying for.""Oh, Pa," she said disgustedly, "you talk like an Irishman!""Have I ever been ashamed of it? No, 'tis proud I am. And don'tbe forgetting that you are half Irish, Miss! And to anyone with adrop of Irish blood in them the land they live on is like theirmother. 'Tis ashamed of you I am this minute. I offer you themost beautiful land in the world--saving County Meath in the OldCountry--and what do you do? You sniff!"Gerald had begun to work himself up into a pleasurable shoutingrage when something in Scarlett's woebegone face stopped him."But there, you're young. 'Twill come to you, this love of land.There's no getting away from it, if you're Irish. You're just a child and bothered about your beaux. When you're older, you'll beseeing how 'tis. . . . Now, do you be making up your mind aboutCade or the twins or one of Evan Munroe's young bucks, and see howfine I turn you out!""Oh, Pa!"By this time, Gerald was thoroughly tired of the conversation andthoroughly annoyed that the problem should be upon his shoulders.He felt aggrieved, moreover, that Scarlett should still lookdesolate after being offered the best of the County boys and Tara,too. Gerald liked his gifts to be received with clapping of handsand kisses."Now, none of your pouts, Miss. It doesn't matter who you marry,as long as he thinks like you and is a gentleman and a Southernerand prideful. For a woman, love comes after marriage.""Oh, Pa, that's such an Old Country notion!""And a good notion it is! All this American business of runningaround marrying for love, like servants, like Yankees! The bestmarriages are when the parents choose for the girl. For how can asilly piece like yourself tell a good man from a scoundrel? Now,look at the Wilkes. What's kept them prideful and strong allthese generations? Why, marrying the likes of themselves,marrying the cousins their family always expects them to marry.""Oh," cried Scarlett, fresh pain striking her as Gerald's wordsbrought home the terrible inevitability of the truth.Gerald looked at her bowed head and shuffled his feet uneasily."It's not crying you are?" he questioned, fumbling clumsily at herchin, trying to turn her face upward, his own face furrowed withpity."No," she cried vehemently, jerking away."It's lying you are, and I'm proud of it. I'm glad there's pridein you, Puss. And I want to see pride in you tomorrow at thebarbecue. I'll not be having the County gossiping and laughing atyou for mooning your heart out about a man who never gave you athought beyond friendship.""He did give me a thought," thought Scarlett, sorrowfully in herheart. "Oh, a lot of thoughts! I know he did. I could tell. IfI'd just had a little longer, I know I could have made him say--Oh, if it only wasn't that the Wilkes always feel that they haveto marry their cousins!" Gerald took her arm and passed it through his."We'll be going in to supper now, and all this is between us.I'll not be worrying your mother with this--nor do you do iteither. Blow your nose, daughter."Scarlett blew her nose on her torn handkerchief, and they startedup the dark drive arm in arm, the horse following slowly. Nearthe house, Scarlett was at the point of speaking again when shesaw her mother in the dim shadows of the porch. She had on herbonnet, shawl and mittens, and behind her was Mammy, her face likea thundercloud, holding in her hand the black leather bag in whichEllen O'Hara always carried the bandages and medicines she used indoctoring the slaves. Mammy's lips were large and pendulous and,when indignant, she could push out her lower one to twice itsnormal length. It was pushed out now, and Scarlett knew thatMammy was seething over something of which she did not approve."Mr. O'Hara," called Ellen as she saw the two coming up thedriveway--Ellen belonged to a generation that was formal evenafter seventeen years of wedlock and the bearing of six children--"Mr. O'Hara, there is illness at the Slattery house. Emmie's babyhas been born and is dying and must be baptized. I am going therewith Mammy to see what I can do."Her voice was raised questioningly, as though she hung on Gerald'sassent to her plan, a mere formality but one dear to the heart ofGerald."In the name of God!" blustered Gerald. "Why should those whitetrash take you away just at your supper hour and just when I'mwanting to tell you about the war talk that's going on in Atlanta!Go, Mrs. O'Hara. You'd not rest easy on your pillow the night ifthere was trouble abroad and you not there to help.""She doan never git no res' on her piller fer hoppin' up at nighttime nursin' niggers an po' w'ite trash dat could ten' todeyseff," grumbled Mammy in a monotone as she went down the stairstoward the carriage which was waiting in the side drive."Take my place at the table, dear," said Ellen, patting Scarlett'scheek softly with a mittened hand.In spite of her choked-back tears, Scarlett thrilled to the neverfailing magic of her mother's touch, to the faint fragrance oflemon verbena sachet that came from her rustling silk dress. ToScarlett, there was something breath-taking about Ellen O'Hara, amiracle that lived in the house with her and awed her and charmedand soothed her. Gerald helped his wife into the carriage and gave orders to thecoachman to drive carefully. Toby, who had handled Gerald'shorses for twenty years, pushed out his lips in mute indignationat being told how to conduct his own business. Driving off, withMammy beside him, each was a perfect picture of pouting Africandisapproval."If I didn't do so much for those trashy Slatterys that they'dhave to pay money for elsewhere," fumed Gerald, "they'd be willingto sell me their miserable few acres of swamp bottom, and theCounty would be well rid of them." Then, brightening, inanticipation of one of his practical jokes: "Come daughter, let'sgo tell Pork that instead of buying Dilcey, I've sold him to JohnWilkes."He tossed the reins of his horse to a small pickaninny standingnear and started up the steps. He had already forgottenScarlett's heartbreak and his mind was only on plaguing his valet.Scarlett slowly climbed the steps after him, her feet leaden. Shethought that, after all, a mating between herself and Ashley couldbe no queerer than that of her father and Ellen Robillard O'Hara.As always, she wondered how her loud, insensitive father hadmanaged to marry a woman like her mother, for never were twopeople further apart in birth, breeding and habits of mind.