飘

f　Mimosa　had　burned　and　only　the　thick　resistant　stucco　of　the　main　house　and　the　frenzied　work　of　the　Fontaine　women　and　their　slaves　with　wet　blankets　and　quilts　had　saved　it　The　Calverts’　house　had　again　been　spared；　due　to　the　intercession　of　Hilton；　the　Yankee　overseer；　but　there　was　not　a　head　of　livestock；　not　a　fowl；　not　an　ear　of　corn　left　on　the　place。
　At　Tara　and　throughout　the　County；　the　problem　was　food。　Most　of　the　families　had　nothing　at　all　but　the　remains　of　their　yam　crops　and　their　peanuts　and　such　game　as　they　could　catch　in　the　woods。　What　they　had；　each　shared　with　less　fortunate　friends；　as　they　had　done　in　more　prosperous　days。　But　the　time　soon　came　when　there　was　nothing　to　share。
　At　Tara；　they　ate　rabbit　and　possum　and　catfish；　if　Pork　was　lucky。　On　other　days　a　small　amount　of　milk；　hickory　nuts；　roasted　acorns　and　yams。　They　were　always　hungry。　To　Scarlett　it　seemed　that　at　every　turn　she　met　outstretched　hands；　pleading　eyes。　The　sight　of　them　drove　her　almost　to　madness；　for　she　was　as　hungry　as　they。
　She　ordered　the　calf　killed；　because　he　drank　so　much　of　the　precious　milk；　and　that　night　everyone　ate　so　much　fresh　veal　all　of　them　were　ill。　She　knew　that　she　should　kill　one　of　the　shoats　but　she　put　it　off　from　day　to　day；　hoping　to　raise　them　to　maturity。　They　were　so　small。　There　would　be　so　little　of　them　to　eat　if　they　were　killed　now　and　so　much　more　if　they　could　be　saved　a　little　longer。　Nightly　she　debated　with　Melanie　the　advisability　of　sending　Pork　abroad　on　the　horse　with　some　greenbacks　to　try　to　buy　food。　But　the　fear　that　the　horse　might　be　captured　and　the　money　taken　from　Pork　deterred　them。　They　did　not　know　where　the　Yankees　were。　They　might　be　a　thousand　miles　away　or　only　across　the　river。　Once；　Scarlett；　in　desperation；　started　to　ride　out　herself　to　search　for　food；　but　the　hysterical　outbursts　of　the　whole　family　fearful　of　the　Yankees　made　her　abandon　the　plan。
　Pork　foraged　far；　at　times　not　coming　home　all　night；　and　Scarlett　did　not　ask　him　where　he　went。　Sometimes　he　returned　with　game；　sometimes　with　a　few　ears　of　corn；　a　bag　of　dried　peas。　Once　he　brought　home　a　rooster　which　he　said　he　found　in　the　woods。　The　family　ate　it　with　relish　but　a　sense　of　guilt；　knowing　very　well　Pork　had　stolen　it；　as　he　had　stolen　the　peas　and　corn。　One　night　soon　after　this；　he　tapped　on　Scarlett’s　door　long　after　the　house　was　asleep　and　sheepishly　exhibited　a　leg　peppered　with　small　shot。　As　she　bandaged　it　for　him；　he　explained　awkwardly　that　when　attempting　to　get　into　a　hen　coop　at　Fayetteville；　he　had　been　discovered。　Scarlett　did　not　ask　whose　hen　coop　but　patted　Pork’s　shoulder　gently；　tears　in　her　eyes。　Negroes　were　provoking　sometimes　and　stupid　and　lazy；　but　there　was　loyalty　in　them　that　money　couldn’t　buy；　a　feeling　of　oneness　with　their　white　folks　which　made　them　risk　their　lives　to　keep　food　on　the　table。
　In　other　days　Pork’s　pilferings　would　have　been　a　serious　matter；　probably　calling　for　a　whipping。　In　other　days　she　would　have　been　forced　at　least　to　reprimand　him　severely。　“Always　remember；　dear；”　Ellen　had　said；　“you　are　responsible　for　the　moral　as　well　as　the　physical　welfare　of　the　darkies　God　has　entrusted　to　your　care。　You　must　realize　that　they　are　like　children　and　must　be　guarded　from　themselves　like　children；　and　you　must　always　set　them　a　good　example。”
　But　now；　Scarlett　pushed　that　admonition　into　the　back　of　her　mind。　That　she　was　encouraging　theft；　and　perhaps　theft　from　people　worse　off　than　she；　was　no　longer　a　matter　for　conscience。　In　fact　the　morals　of　the　affair　weighed　lightly　upon　her。　Instead　of　punishment　or　reproof；　she　only　regretted　he　had　been　shot。
　“You　must　be　more　careful；　Pork。　We　don’t　want　to　lose　you。　What　would　we　do　without　you？　You’ve　been　mighty　good　and　faithful　and　when　we　get　some　money　again；　I’m　going　to　buy　you　a　big　gold　watch　and　engrave　on　it　something　out　of　the　Bible。　‘Well　done；　good　and　faithful　servant。’　”
　Pork　beamed　under　the　praise　and　gingerly　rubbed　his　bandaged　leg。
　“Dat　soun’　mighty　fine；　Miss　Scarlett。　W’en　you　speckin’　ter　git　dat　money？”
　“I　don’t　know；　Pork；　but　I’m　going　to　get　it　some　time；　somehow。”　She　bent　on　him　an　unseeing　glance　that　was　so　passionately　bitter　he　stirred　uneasily；　“Some　day；　when　this　war　is　over；　I’m　going　to　have　lots　of　money；　and　when　I　do　I’ll　never　be　hungry　or　cold　again。　None　of　us　will　ever　be　hungry　or　cold。　We’ll　all　wear　fine　clothes　and　have　fried　chicken　every　day　and—”
　Then　she　stopped。　The　strictest　rule　at　Tara；　one　which　she　herself　had　made　and　which　she　rigidly　enforced；　was　that　no　one　should　ever　talk　of　the　fine　meals　they　had　eaten　in　the　past　or　what　they　would　eat　now；　if　they　had　the　opportunity。
　Pork　slipped　from　the　room　as　she　remained　staring　moodily　into　the　distance。　In　the　old　days；　now　dead　and　gone；　life　had　been　so　complex；　so　full　of　intricate　and　complicated　problems。　There　had　been　the　problem　of　trying　to　win　Ashley’s　love　and　trying　to　keep　a　dozen　other　beaux　dangling　and　unhappy。　There　had　been　small　breaches　of　conduct　to　be　concealed　from　her　elders；　jealous　girls　to　be　flouted　or　placated；　styles　of　dresses　and　materials　to　be　chosen；　different　coiffures　to　be　tried　and；　oh；　so　many；　many　other　matters　to　be　decided！　Now　life　was　so　amazingly　simple。　Now　all　that　mattered　was　food　enough　to　keep　off　starvation；　clothing　enough　to　prevent　freezing　and　a　roof　overhead　which　did　not　leak　too　much。
　It　was　during　these　days　that　Scarlett　dreamed　and　dreamed　again　the　nightmare　which　was　to　haunt　her　for　years。　It　was　always　the　same　dream；　the　details　never　varied；　but　the　terror　of　it　mounted　each　time　it　came　to　her　and　the　fear　of　experiencing　it　again　troubled　even　her　waking　hours。　She　remembered　so　well　the　incidents　of　the　day　when　she　had　first　dreamed　it。
　Cold　rain　had　fallen　for　days　and　the　house　was　chill　with　drafts　and　dampness。　The　logs　in　the　fireplace　were　wet　and　smoky　and　gave　little　heat。　There　had　been　nothing　to　eat　except　milk　since　breakfast；　for　the　yams　were　exhausted　and　Pork’s　snares　and　fishlines　had　yielded　nothing。　One　of　the　shoats　would　have　to　be　killed　the　next　day　if　they　were　to　eat　at　all。　Strained　and　hungry　faces；　black　and　white；　were　staring　at　her；　mutely　asking　her　to　provide　food。　She　would　have　to　risk　losing　the　horse　and　send　Pork　out　to　buy　something。　And　to　make　matters　worse；　Wade　was　ill　with　a　sore　throat　and　a　raging　fever　and　there　was　neither　doctor　nor　medicine　for　him。
　Hungry；　weary　with　watching　her　child；　Scarlett　left　him　to　Melanie’s　care　for　a　while　and　lay　down　on　her　bed　to　nap。　Her　feet　icy；　she　twisted　and　turned；　unable　to　sleep；　weighed　down　with　fear　and　despair。　Again　and　again；　she　thought：　“What　shall　I　do？　Where　shall　I　turn？　Isn’t　there　anybody　in　the　world　who　can　help　me？”　Where　had　all　the　security　of　the　world　gone？　Why　wasn’t　there　someone；　some　strong　wise　person　to　take　the　burdens　from　her？　She　wasn’t　made　to　carry　them。　She　did　not　know　how　to　carry　them。　And　then　she　fell　into　an　uneasy　doze。
　She　was　in　a　wild　strange　country　so　thick　with　swirling　mist　she　could　not　see　her　hand　before　her　face。　The　earth　beneath　her　feet　was　uneasy。　It　was　a　haunted　land；　still　with　a　terrible　stillness；　and　she　was　lost　in　it；　lost　and　terrified　as　a　child　in　the　night。　She　was　bitterly　cold　and　hungry　and　so　fearful　of　what　lurked　in　the　mists　about　her　that　she　tried　to　scream　and　could　not。　There　were　things　in　the　fog　reaching　out　fingers　to　pluck　at　her　skirt；　to　drag　her　down　into　the　uneasy　quaking　earth　on　which　she　stood；　silent；　relentless；　spectral　hands。　Then；　she　knew　that　somewhere　in　the　opaque　gloom　about　her　there　was　shelter；　help；　a　heaven　of　refuge　and　warmth。　But　where　was　it？　Could　she　reach　it　before　the　hands　clutched　her　and　dragged　her　down　into　the　quicksands？
　Suddenly　she　was　running；　running　through　the　mist　like　a　mad　thing；　crying　and　screaming；　throwing　out　her　arms　to　clutch　only　empty　air　and　wet　mist　Where　was　the　haven？　It　eluded　her　but　it　was　there；　hidden；　somewhere。　If　she　could　only　reach　it！　If　she　could　only　reach　it　she　would　be　safe！　But　terror　was　weakening　her　legs；　hunger　making　her　faint。　She　gave　one　despairing　cry　and　awoke　to　find　Melanie’s　worried　face　above　her　and　Melanie’s　hand　shaking　her　to　wakefulness。
　The　dream　returned　again　and　again；　whenever　she　went　to　sleep　with　an　empty　stomach。　And　that　was　frequently　enough。　It　so　frightened　her　that　she　feared　to　sleep；　although　she　feverishly　told　herself　there　was　nothing　in　such　a　dream　to　be　afraid　of。　There　was　nothing　in　a　dream　about　fog　to　scare　her　so。　Nothing　at　all—yet　the　thought　of　dropping　off　into　that　mist…filled　country　so　terrified　her　she　began　sleeping　with　Melanie；　who　would　wake　her　up　when　her　moaning　and　twitching　revealed　that　she　was　again　in　the　clutch　of　the　dream。
　Under　the　strain　she　grew　white　and　thin。　The　pretty　roundness　left　her　face；　throwing　her　cheek　bones　into　prominence；　emphasizing　her　slanting　green　eyes　and　giving　her　the　look　of　a　prowling；　hungry　cat。
　“Daytime　is　enough　like　a　nightmare　without　my　dreaming　things；”　she　thought