飘

　“Well；　I　don’t　know　nothin’　about　imperious　Caesar；”　said　Will；　patiently；　“but　what　I’ve　got　is　in　line　with　what　you’ve　just　said　about　Wade；　Miss　Melly。　It’s　a　poem；　pasted　on　the　back　of　this　bill。　I　know　Miss　Scarlett　ain’t　much　on　poems　but　I　thought　this　might　interest　her。”
　He　turned　the　bill　over。　On　its　back　was　pasted　a　strip　of　coarse　brown　wrapping　paper；　inscribed　in　pale　homemade　ink。　Will　cleared　his　throat　and　read　slowly　and　with　difficulty。
　“The　name　is　‘Lines　on　the　Back　of　a　Confederate　Note；’　”　he　said。
　
　“Representing　nothing　on　God’s　earth　now
　And　naught　in　the　waters　below　it—
　As　the　pledge　of　nation　that’s　passed　away
　Keep　it；　dear　friend；　and　show　it。
　
　Show　it　to　those　who　will　lend　an　ear
　To　the　tale　this　trifle　will　tell
　Of　Liberty；　born　of　patriots’　dream；
　Of　a　storm…cradled　nation　that　fell。”
　
　“Oh；　how　beautiful！　How　touching！”　cried　Melanie。　“Scarlett；　you　mustn’t　give　the　money　to　Mammy　to　paste　in　the　attic。　It’s　more　than　paper—just　like　this　poem　said：　‘The　pledge　of　a　nation　that’s　passed　away！’　”
　“Oh；　Melly；　don’t　be　sentimental！　Paper　is　paper　and　we’ve　got　little　enough　of　it　and　I’m　tired　of　hearing　Mammy　grumble　about　the　cracks　in　the　attic。　I　hope　when　Wade　grows　up　I’ll　have　plenty　of　greenbacks　to　give　him　instead　of　Confederate　trash。”
　Will；　who　had　been　enticing　little　Beau　across　the　blanket　with　the　bill　during　this　argument；　looked　up　and；　shading　his　eyes；　glanced　down　the　driveway。
　“More　company；”　he　said；　squinting　in　the　sun。　“Another　soldier。”
　Scarlett　followed　his　gaze　and　saw　a　familiar　sight；　a　bearded　man　coming　slowly　up　the　avenue　under　the　cedars；　a　man　clad　in　a　ragged　mixture　of　blue　and　gray　uniforms；　head　bowed　tiredly；　feet　dragging　slowly。
　“I　thought　we　were　about　through　with　soldiers；”　she　said。　“I　hope　this　one　isn’t　very　hungry。”
　“He’ll　be　hungry；”　said　Will　briefly。
　Melanie　rose。
　“I’d　better　tell　Dilcey　to　set　an　extra　plate；”　she　said；　“and　warn　Mammy　not　to　get　the　poor　thing’s　clothes　off　his　back　too　abruptly　and—”
　She　stopped　so　suddenly　that　Scarlett　turned　to　look　at　her。　Melanie’s　thin　hand　was　at　her　throat；　clutching　it　as　if　it　was　torn　with　pain；　and　Scarlett　could　see　the　veins　beneath　the　white　skin　throbbing　swiftly。　Her　face　went　whiter　and　her　brown　eyes　dilated　enormously。
　She’s　going　to　faint；　thought　Scarlett；　leaping　to　her　feet　and　catching　her　arm。
　But；　in　an　instant；　Melanie　threw　off　her　hand　and　was　down　the　steps。　Down　the　graveled　path　she　flew；　skimming　lightly　as　a　bird；　her　faded　skirts　streaming　behind　her；　her　arms　outstretched。　Then；　Scarlett　knew　the　truth；　with　the　impact　of　a　blow。　She　reeled　back　against　an　upright　of　the　porch　as　the　man　lifted　a　face　covered　with　a　dirty　blond　beard　and　stopped　still；　looking　toward　the　house　as　if　he　was　too　weary　to　take　another　step。　Her　heart　leaped　and　stopped　and　then　began　racing；　as　Melly　with　incoherent　cries　threw　herself　into　the　dirty　soldier’s　arms　and　his　head　bent　down　toward　hers。　With　rapture；　Scarlett　took　two　running　steps　forward　but　was　checked　when　Will’s　hand　closed　upon　her　skirt。
　“Don’t　spoil　it；”　he　said　quietly。
　“Turn　me　loose；　you　fool！　Turn　me　loose！　It’s　Ashley！”
　He　did　not　relax　his　grip。
　“After　all；　he’s　her　husband；　ain’t　he？”　Will　asked　calmly　and；　looking　down　at　him　in　a　confusion　of　joy　and　impotent　fury；　Scarlett　saw　in　the　quiet　depths　of　his　eyes　understanding　and　pity。
　
　Part　Four
　CHAPTER　XXXI
　ON　A　COLD　January　afternoon　in　1866；　Scarlett　sat　in　the　office　writing　a　letter　to　Aunt　Pitty；　explaining　in　detail　for　the　tenth　time　why　neither　she；　Melanie　nor　Ashley　could　come　back　to　Atlanta　to　live　with　her。　She　wrote　impatiently　because　she　knew　Aunt　Pitty　would　read　no　farther　than　the　opening　lines　and　then　write　her　again；　wailing：　“But　I’m　afraid　to　live　by　myself！”
　Her　hands　were　chilled　and　she　paused　to　rub　them　together　and　to　scuff　her　feet　deeper　into　the　strip　of　old　quilting　wrapped　about　them。　The　soles　of　her　slippers　were　practically　gone　and　were　reinforced　with　pieces　of　carpet。　The　carpet　kept　her　feet　off　the　floor　but　did　little　to　keep　them　warm。　That　morning　Will　had　taken　the　horse　to　Jonesboro　to　get　him　shod。　Scarlett　thought　grimly　that　things　were　indeed　at　a　pretty　pass　when　horses　had　shoes　and　people’s　feet　were　as　bare　as　yard　dogs’。
　She　picked　up　her　quill　to　resume　her　writing　but　laid　it　down　when　she　heard　Will　coming　in　at　the　back　door。　She　heard　the　thump…thump　of　his　wooden　leg　in　the　hall　outside　the　office　and　then　he　stopped。　She　waited　for　a　moment　for　him　to　enter　and　when　he　made　no　move　she　called　to　him。　He　came　in；　his　ears　red　from　the　cold；　his　pinkish　hair　awry；　and　stood　looking　down　at　her；　a　faintly　humorous　smile　on　his　lips。
　“Miss　Scarlett；”　he　questioned；　“just　how　much　cash　money　have　you　got？”
　“Are　you　going　to　try　to　marry　me　for　my　money；　Will？”　she　asked　somewhat　crossly。
　“No；　Ma’m。　But　I　just　wanted　to　know。”
　She　stared　at　him　inquiringly。　Will　didn’t　look　serious；　but　then　he　never　looked　serious。　However；　she　felt　that　something　was　wrong。
　“I’ve　got　ten　dollars　in　gold；”　she　said。　“The　last　of　that　Yankee’s　money。”
　“Well；　Ma’m；　that　won’t　be　enough。”
　“Enough　for　what？”
　“Enough　for　the　taxes；”　he　answered　and；　stumping　over　to　the　fireplace；　he　leaned　down　and　held　his　red　hands　to　the　blaze。
　“Taxes？”　she　repeated。　“Name　of　God；　Will！　We’ve　already　paid　the　taxes。”
　“Yes’m。　But　they　say　you　didn’t　pay　enough。　I　heard　about　it　today　over　to　Jonesboro。”
　“But；　Will；　I　can’t　understand。　What　do　you　mean？”
　“Miss　Scarlett；　I　sure　hate　to　bother　you　with　more　trouble　when　you’ve　had　your　share　but　I’ve　got　to　tell　you。　They　say　you　ought　to　paid　lots　more　taxes　than　you　did。　They’re　runnin’　the　assessment　up　on　Tara　sky　high—higher　than　any　in　the　County；　I’ll　be　bound。”
　“But　they　can’t　make　us　pay　more　taxes　when　we’ve　already　paid　them　once。”
　“Miss　Scarlett；　you　don’t　never　go　to　Jonesboro　often　and　I’m　glad　you　don’t。　It　ain’t　no　place　for　a　lady　these　days。　But　if　you’d　been　there　much；　you’d　know　there’s　a　mighty　rough　bunch　of　Scallawags　and　Republicans　and　Carpetbaggers　been　runnin’　things　recently。　They’d　make　you　mad　enough　to　pop。　And　then；　too；　niggers　pushin’　white　folks　off　the　sidewalks　and—”
　“But　what’s　that　got　to　do　with　our　taxes？”
　“I’m　gettin’　to　it；　Miss　Scarlett。　For　some　reason　the　rascals　have　histed　the　taxes　on　Tara　till　you’d　think　it　was　a　thousand…bale　place。　After　I　heard　about　it；　I　sorter　oozed　around　the　barrooms　pickin’　up　gossip　and　I　found　out　that　somebody　wants　to　buy　in　Tara　cheap　at　the　sheriffs　sale；　if　you　can’t　pay　the　extra　taxes。　And　everybody　knows　pretty　well　that　you　can’t　pay　them。　I　don’t　know　yet　who　it　is　wants　this　place。　I　couldn’t　find　out。　But　I　think　that　pusillanimous　feller；　Hilton；　that　married　Miss　Cathleen　knows；　because　he　laughed　kind　of　nasty　when　I　tried　to　sound　him　out。”
　Will　sat　down　on　the　sofa　and　rubbed　the　stump　of　his　leg。　It　ached　in　cold　weather　and　the　wooden　peg　was　neither　well　padded　nor　comfortable。　Scarlett　looked　at　him　wildly。　His　manner　was　so　casual　when　he　was　sounding　the　death　knell　of　Tara。　Sold　out　at　the　sheriff’s　sale？　Where　would　they　all　go？　And　Tara　belonging　to　some　one　else！　No；　that　was　unthinkable！
　She　had　been　so　engrossed　with　the　job　of　making　Tara　produce　she　had　paid　little　heed　to　what　was　going　on　in　the　world　outside。　Now　that　she　had　Will　and　Ashley　to　attend　to　whatever　business　she　might　have　in　Jonesboro　and　Fayetteville；　she　seldom　left　the　plantation。　And　even　as　she　had　listened　with　deaf　ears　to　her　father’s　war　talk　in　the　days　before　the　war　came；　so　she　had　paid　little　heed　to　Will　and　Ashley’s　discussions　around　the　table　after　supper　about　the　beginnings　of　Reconstruction。
　Oh；　of　course；　she　knew　about　the　Scalawags—Southerners　who　had　turned　Republican　very　profitably—and　the　Carpetbaggers；　those　Yankees　who　came　South　like　buzzards　after　the　surrender　with　all　their　worldly　possessions　in　one　carpetbag。　And　she　had　had　a　few　unpleasant　experiences　with　the　Freedmen’s　Bureau。　She　had　gathered；　also；　that　some　of　the　free　negroes　were　getting　quite　insolent。　This　last　she　could　hardly　believe；　for　she　had　never　seen　an　insolent　negro　in　her　life。
　But　there　were　many　things　which　Will　and　Ashley　had　conspired　to　keep　from　her。　The　scourge　of　war　had　been　followed　by　the　worse　scourge　of　Reconstruction；　but　the　two　men　had　agreed　not　to　mention　the　more　alarming　details　when　they　discussed　the　situation　at　home。　And　when　Scarlett　took　the　trouble　to　listen　to　them　at　all；　most　of　what　they　said　went　in　one　ear　and　out　the　other。
　She　had　heard　Ashley　say　that　the　South　was　being　treated　as　a　conquered　province　and　that　vindictiveness　was　the　dominant　policy　of　the　conquerors。　But　that　was　the　kind　of　statement　which　meant　less　than　nothing　at　all　to　Scarlett。　Politics　was　men’s　business。　She　had　heard　Will　say　it　looked　to　him　like　the　North　just　wasn’t　aiming　to　let