飘

too　real　and　I　was　cowardly　enough　to　prefer　shadows　and　dreams。”
　“But—but—Melly？”
　“Melanie　is　the　gentlest　of　dreams　and　a　part　of　my　dreaming。　And　if　the　war　had　not　come　I　would　have　lived　out　my　life；　happily　buried　at　Twelve　Oaks；　contentedly　watching　life　go　by　and　never　being　a　part　of　it。　But　when　the　war　came；　life　as　it　really　is　thrust　itself　against　me。　The　first　time　I　went　into　action—it　was　at　Bull　Run；　you　remember—I　saw　my　boyhood　friends　blown　to　bits　and　heard　dying　horses　scream　and　learned　the　sickeningly　horrible　feeling　of　seeing　men　crumple　up　and　spit　blood　when　I　shot　them。　But　those　weren’t　the　worst　things　about　the　war；　Scarlett。　The　worst　thing　about　the　war　was　the　people　I　had　to　live　with。
　“I　had　sheltered　myself　from　people　an　my　life；　I　had　carefully　selected　my　few　friends。　But　the　war　taught　me　I　had　created　a　world　of　my　own　with　dream　people　in　it。　It　taught　me　what　people　really　are；　but　it　didn’t　teach　me　how　to　live　with　them。　And　I’m　afraid　I’ll　never　learn。　Now；　I　know　that　in　order　to　support　my　wife　and　child；　I　will　have　to　make　my　way　among　a　world　of　people　with　whom　I　have　nothing　in　common。　You；　Scarlett；　are　taking　life　by　the　horns　and　twisting　it　to　your　will。　But　where　do　I　fit　in　the　world　any　more？　I　tell　you　I　am　afraid。”
　While　his　low　resonant　voice　went　on；　desolate；　with　a　feeling　she　could　not　understand；　Scarlett　clutched　at　words　here　and　there；　trying　to　make　sense　of　them。　But　the　words　swooped　from　her　hands　like　wild　birds。　Something　was　driving　him；　driving　him　with　a　cruel　goad；　but　she　did　not　understand　what　it　was。
　“Scarlett；　I　don’t　know　just　when　it　was　that　the　bleak　realization　came　over　me　that　my　own　private　shadow　show　was　over。　Perhaps　in　the　first　five　minutes　at　Bull　Run　when　I　saw　the　first　man　I　killed　drop　to　the　ground。　But　I　knew　it　was　over　and　I　could　no　longer　be　a　spectator。　No；　I　suddenly　found　myself　on　the　curtain；　an　actor；　posturing　and　making　futile　gestures。　My　little　inner　world　was　gone；　invaded　by　people　whose　thoughts　were　not　my　thoughts；　whose　actions　were　as　alien　as　a　Hottentot’s。　They’d　tramped　through　my　world　with　slimy　feet　and　there　was　no　place　left　where　I　could　take　refuge　when　things　became　too　bad　to　stand。　When　I　was　in　prison；　I　thought：　When　the　war　is　over；　I　can　go　back　to　the　old　life　and　the　old　dreams　and　watch　the　shadow　show　again。　But；　Scarlett；　there’s　no　going　back。　And　this　which　is　facing　all　of　us　now　is　worse　than　war　and　worse　than　prison—and；　to　me；　worse　than　death。　。。。　So；　you　see；　Scarlett；　I’m　being　punished　for　being　afraid。”
　“But；　Ashley；”　she　began；　floundering　in　a　quagmire　of　bewilderment；　“if　you’re　afraid　we’ll　starve；　why—why—　Oh；　Ashley；　we’ll　manage　somehow！　I　know　we　will！”
　For　a　moment；　his　eyes　came　back　to　her；　wide　and　crystal　gray；　and　there　was　admiration　in　them。　Then；　suddenly；　they　were　remote　again　and　she　knew　with　a　sinking　heart　that　he　had　not　been　thinking　about　starving。　They　were　always　like　two　people　talking　to　each　other　in　different　languages。　But　she　loved　him　so　much　that；　when　he　withdrew　as　he　had　now　done；　it　was　like　the　warm　son　going　down　and　leaving　her　in　chilly　twilight　dews。　She　wanted　to　catch　him　by　the　shoulders　and　hug　him　to　her；　make　him　realize　that　she　was　flesh　and　blood　and　not　something　he　had　read　or　dreamed。　If　she　could　only　feel　that　sense　of　oneness　with　him　for　which　she　had　yearned　since　that　day；　so　long　ago；　when　he　had　come　home　from　Europe　and　stood　on　the　steps　of　Tara　and　smiled　up　at　her。
　“Starving’s　not　pleasant；”　he　said。　“I　know　for　I’ve　starved；　but　I’m　not　afraid　of　that。　I　am　afraid　of　facing　life　without　the　slow　beauty　of　our　old　world　that　is　gone。”
　Scarlett　thought　despairingly　that　Melanie　would　know　what　he　meant。　Melly　and　he　were　always　talking　such　foolishness；　poetry　and　books　and　dreams　and　moonrays　and　star　dust。　He　was　not　fearing　the　things　she　feared；　not　the　gnawing　of　an　empty　stomach；　nor　the　keenness　of　the　winter　wind　nor　eviction　from　Tara。　He　was　shrinking　before　some　fear　she　had　never　known　and　could　not　imagine。　For；　in　God’s　name；　what　was　there　to　fear　in　this　wreck　of　a　world　but　hunger　and　cold　and　the　loss　of　home？
　And　she　had　thought　that　if　she　listened　closely　she　would　know　the　answer　to　Ashley。
　“Oh！”　she　said　and　the　disappointment　in　her　voice　was　that　of　a　child　who　opens　a　beautifully　wrapped　package　to　find　it　empty。　At　her　tone；　he　smiled　ruefully　as　though　apologizing。
　“Forgive　me；　Scarlett；　for　talking　so。　I　can’t　make　you　understand　because　you　don’t　know　the　meaning　of　fear。　You　have　the　heart　of　a　lion　and　an　utter　lack　of　imagination　and　I　envy　you　both　of　those　qualities。　You’ll　never　mind　facing　realities　and　you’ll　never　want　to　escape　from　them　as　I　do。”
　“Escape！”
　It　was　as　if　that　were　the　only　understandable　word　he　had　spoken。　Ashley；　like　her；　was　tired　of　the　struggle　and　he　wanted　to　escape。　Her　breath　came　fast。
　“Oh；　Ashley；”　she　cried；　“you’re　wrong。　I　do　want　to　escape；　too。　I　am　so　very　tired　of　it　all！”
　His　eyebrows　went　up　in　disbelief　and　she　laid　a　hand；　feverish　and　urgent；　on　his　arm。
　“Listen　to　me；”　she　began　swiftly；　the　words　tumbling　out　one　over　the　other。　“I’m　tired　of　it　all；　I　tell　you。　Bone　tired　and　I’m　not　going　to　stand　it　any　longer。　I’ve　struggled　for　food　and　for　money　and　I’ve　weeded　and　hoed　and　picked　cotton　and　I’ve　even　plowed　until　I　can’t　stand　it　another　minute。　I　tell　you；　Ashley；　the　South　is　dead！　It’s　dead！　The　Yankees　and　the　free　niggers　and　the　Carpetbaggers　have　got　it　and　there’s　nothing　left　for　us。　Ashley；　let’s　run　away！”
　He　peered　at　her　sharply；　lowering　his　head　to　look　into　her　face；　now　flaming　with　color。
　“Yes；　let’s　run　away—leave　them　all！　I’m　tired　of　working　for　the　folks。　Somebody　will　take　care　of　them。　There’s　always　somebody　who　takes　care　of　people　who　can’t　take　care　of　themselves。　Oh；　Ashley；　let’s　run　away；　you　and　I。　We　could　go　to　Mexico—they　want　officers　in　the　Mexican　Army　and　we　could　be　so　happy　there。　I’d　work　for　you；　Ashley。　I’d　do　anything　for　you。　You　know　you　don’t　love　Melanie—”
　He　started　to　speak；　a　stricken　look　on　his　face；　but　she　stemmed　his　words　with　a　torrent　of　her　own。
　“You　told　me　you　loved　me　better　than　her　that　day—　oh；　you　remember　that　day！　And　I　know　you　haven’t　changed！　I　can　tell　you　haven’t　changed！　And　you’ve　just　said　she　was　nothing　but　a　dream—　Oh；　Ashley；　let’s　go　away！　I　could　make　you　so　happy。　And　anyway；”　she　added　venomously；　“Melanie　can’t—　Dr。　Fontaine　said　she　couldn’t　ever　have　any　more　children　and　I　could　give　you—”
　His　hands　were　on　her　shoulders　so　tightly　that　they　hurt　and　she　stopped；　breathless。
　“We　were　to　forget　that　day　at　Twelve　Oaks。”
　“Do　you　think　I　could　ever　forget　it？　Have　you　forgotten　it？　Can　you　honestly　say　you　don’t　love　me？”
　He　drew　a　deep　breath　and　answered　quickly。
　“No。　I　don’t　love　you。”
　“That’s　a　lie。”
　“Even　if　it　is　a　lie；”　said　Ashley　and　his　voice　was　deadly　quiet；　“it　is　not　something　which　can　be　discussed。”
　“You　mean—”
　“Do　you　think　I　could　go　off　and　leave　Melanie　and　the　baby；　even　if　I　hated　them　both？　Break　Melanie’s　heart？　Leave　them　both　to　the　charity　of　friends？　Scarlett；　are　you　mad？　Isn’t　there　any　sense　of　loyalty　in　you？　You　couldn’t　leave　your　father　and　the　girls。　They’re　your　responsibility；　just　as　Melanie　and　Beau　are　mine；　and　whether　you　are　tired　or　not；　they　are　here　and　you’ve　got　to　bear　them。”
　“I　could　leave　them—I’m　sick　of　them—tired　of　them—”
　He　leaned　toward　her　and；　for　a　moment；　she　thought　with　a　catch　at　her　heart　that　he　was　going　to　take　her　in　his　arms。　But　instead；　he　patted　her　arm　and　spoke　as　one　comforting　a　child。
　“I　know　you’re　sick　and　tired。　That’s　why　you　are　talking　this　way。　You’ve　carried　the　load　of　three　men。　But　I’m　going　to　help　you—I　won’t　always　be　so　awkward—”
　“There’s　only　one　way　you　can　help　me；”　she　said　dully；　“and　that’s　to　take　me　away　from　here　and　give　us　a　new　start　somewhere；　with　a　chance　for　happiness。　There’s　nothing　to　keep　us　here。”
　“Nothing；”　he　said　quietly；　“nothing—except　honor。”
　She　looked　at　him　with　baffled　longing　and　saw；　as　if　for　the　first　time；　how　the　crescents　of　his　lashes　were　the　thick　rich　gold　of　ripe　wheat；　how　proudly　his　head　sat　upon　his　bared　neck　and　how　the　look　of　race　and　dignity　persisted　in　his　slim　erect　body；　even　through　its　grotesque　rags。　Her　eyes　met　his；　hers　naked　with　pleading；　his　remote　as　mountain　lakes　under　gray　skies。
　She　saw　in　them　defeat　of　her　wild　dream；　her　mad　desires。
　Heartbreak　and　weariness　sweeping　over　her；　she　dropped　her　head　in　her　hands　and　cried。　He　had　never　seen　her　cry。　He　had　never　thought　that　women　of　her　strong　mettle　had　tears；　and　a　flood　of　tenderness　and　remorse　swept　him。　He　came　to　her　swiftly　and　in　a　moment　had　her　in　his　arms；　cradling　her　comfortingly；　pressing　her　black　head　to　his　heart；　whispering：　“Dear！　My　brave　dear—don’t！　You　mustn’t　cry！”
　At　his　touch；　he　felt　her　change　within　his　grip　and　there　was　madness　and