飘

wn　his　face　as　he　panted：
　“Is　you　hu’t？　Did　dey　hu’t　you？”
　She　could　not　speak；　but　seeing　the　direction　of　his　eyes　and　their　quick　averting；　she　realized　that　her　basque　was　open　to　the　waist　and　her　bare　bosom　and　corset　cover　were　showing。　With　a　shaking　hand　she　clutched　the　two　edges　together　and　bowing　her　head　began　to　cry　in　terrified　sobs。
　“Gimme　dem　lines；”　said　Sam；　snatching　the　reins　from　her。　“Hawse；　mek　tracks！”
　The　whip　cracked　and　the　startled　horse　went　off　at　a　wild　gallop　that　threatened　to　throw　the　buggy　into　the　ditch。
　“Ah　hope　Ah　done　kill　dat　black　baboon。　But　Ah　din’　wait　ter　fine　out；”　he　panted。　“But　ef　he　hahmed　you；　Miss　Scarlett；　Ah’ll　go　back　an’　mek　sho　of　it。”
　“No—no—drive　on　quickly；”　she　sobbed。
　
　CHAPTER　XLV
　THAT　NIGHT　when　Frank　deposited　her　and　Aunt　Pitty　and　the　children　at　Melanie’s　and　rode　off　down　the　street　with　Ashley；　Scarlett　could　have　burst　with　rage　and　hurt。　How　could　he　go　off　to　a　political　meeting　on　this　of　all　nights　in　the　world？　A　political　meeting！　And　on　the　same　night　when　she　had　been　attacked；　when　anything　might　have　happened　to　her！　It　was　unfeeling　and　selfish　of　him。　But　then；　he　had　taken　the　whole　affair　with　maddening　calm；　ever　since　Sam　had　carried　her　sobbing　into　the　house；　her　basque　gaping　to　the　waist。　He　hadn’t　clawed　his　beard　even　once　when　she　cried　out　her　story。　He　had　just　questioned　gently：　“Sugar；　are　you　hurt—or　just　scared？”
　Wrath　mingling　with　her　tears　she　had　been　unable　to　answer　and　Sam　had　volunteered　that　she　was　just　scared。
　“Ah　got　dar　fo’　dey　done　mo’n　t’ar　her　dress。”
　“You’re　a　good　boy；　Sam；　and　I　won’t　forget　what　you’ve　done。　If　there’s　anything　I　can　do　for　you—”
　“Yassah；　you　kin　sen’　me　ter　Tara；　quick　as　you　kin。　De　Yankees　is　affer　me。”
　Frank　had　listened　to　this　statement　calmly　too；　and　had　asked　no　questions。　He　had　looked　very　much　as　he　did　the　night　Tony　came　beating　on　their　door；　as　though　this　was　an　exclusively　masculine　affair　and　one　to　be　handled　with　a　minimum　of　words　and　emotions。
　“You　go　get　in　the　buggy。　I’ll　have　Peter　drive　you　as　far　as　Rough　and　Ready　tonight　and　you　can　hide　in　the　woods　till　morning　and　then　catch　the　train　to　Jonesboro。　It’ll　be　safer。　。。。　Now；　Sugar；　stop　crying。　It’s　all　over　now　and　you　aren’t　really　hurt。　Miss　Pitty；　could　I　have　your　smelling　salts？　And　Mammy；　fetch　Miss　Scarlett　a　glass　of　wine。”
　Scarlett　had　burst　into　renewed　tears；　this　time　tears　of　rage。　She　wanted　comforting；　indignation；　threats　of　vengeance。　She　would　even　have　preferred　him　storming　at　her；　saying　that　this　was　just　what　he　had　warned　her　would　happen—anything　rather　than　have　him　take　it　all　so　casually　and　treat　her　danger　as　a　matter　of　small　moment。　He　was　nice　and　gentle；　of　course；　but　in　an　absent　way　as　if　he　had　something　far　more　important　on　his　mind。
　And　that　important　thing　had　turned　out　to　be　a　small　political　meeting！
　She　could　hardly　believe　her　ears　when　he　told　her　to　change　her　dress　and　get　ready　for　him　to　escort　her　over　to　Melanie’s　for　the　evening。　He　must　know　how　harrowing　her　experience　had　been；　must　know　she　did　not　want　to　spend　an　evening　at　Melanie’s　when　her　tired　body　and　jangled　nerves　cried　out　for　the　warm　relaxation　of　bed　and　blankets—with　a　hot　brick　to　make　her　toes　tingle　and　a　hot　toddy　to　soothe　her　fears。　If　he　really　loved　her；　nothing　could　have　forced　him　from　her　side　on　this　of　all　nights。　He　would　have　stayed　home　and　held　her　hand　and　told　her　over　and　over　that　he　would　have　died　if　anything　had　happened　to　her。　And　when　he　came　home　tonight　and　she　had　him　alone；　she　would　certainly　tell　him　so。
　Melanie’s　small　parlor　looked　as　serene　as　it　usually　did　on　nights　when　Frank　and　Ashley　were　away　and　the　women　gathered　together　to　sew。　The　room　was　warm　and　cheerful　in　the　firelight。　The　lamp　on　the　table　shed　a　quiet　yellow　glow　on　the　four　smooth　heads　bent　to　their　needlework。　Four　skirts　billowed　modestly；　eight　small　feet　were　daintily　placed　on　low　hassocks。　The　quiet　breathing　of　Wade；　Ella　and　Beau　came　through　the　open　door　of　the　nursery。　Archie　sat　on　a　stool　by　the　hearth；　his　back　against　the　fireplace；　his　cheek　distended　with　tobacco；　whittling　industriously　on　a　bit　of　wood。　The　contrast　between　the　dirty；　hairy　old　man　and　the　four　neat；　fastidious　ladies　was　as　great　as　though　he　were　a　grizzled；　vicious　old　watchdog　and　they　four　small　kittens。
　Melanie’s　soft　voice；　tinged　with　indignation；　went　on　and　on　as　she　told　of　the　recent　outburst　of　temperament　on　the　part　of　the　Lady　Harpists。　Unable　to　agree　with　the　Gentlemen’s　Glee　Club　as　to　the　program　for　their　next　recital；　the　ladies　had　waited　on　Melanie　that　afternoon　and　announced　their　intention　of　withdrawing　completely　from　the　Musical　Circle。　It　had　taken　all　of　Melanie’s　diplomacy　to　persuade　them　to　defer　their　decision。
　Scarlett；　overwrought；　could　have　screamed：　“Oh；　damn　the　Lady　Harpists！”　She　wanted　to　talk　about　her　dreadful　experience。　She　was　bursting　to　relate　it　in　detail；　so　she　could　ease　her　own　fright　by　frightening　the　others。　She　wanted　to　tell　how　brave　she　had　been；　just　to　assure　herself　by　the　sound　of　her　own　words　that　she　had；　indeed；　been　brave。　But　every　time　she　brought　up　the　subject；　Melanie　deftly　steered　the　conversation　into　other　and　innocuous　channels。　This　irritated　Scarlett　almost　beyond　endurance。　They　were　as　mean　as　Frank。
　How　could　they　be　so　calm　and　placid　when　she　had　just　escaped　so　terrible　a　fate？　They　weren’t　even　displaying　common　courtesy　in　denying　her　the　relief　of　talking　about　it。
　The　events　of　the　afternoon　had　shaken　her　more　than　she　cared　to　admit；　even　to　herself。　Every　time　she　thought　of　that　malignant　black　face　peering　at　her　from　the　shadows　of　the　twilight　forest　road；　she　fell　to　trembling。　When　she　thought　of　the　black　hand　at　her　bosom　and　what　would　have　happened　if　Big　Sam　had　not　appeared；　she　bent　her　head　lower　and　squeezed　her　eyes　tightly　shut。　The　longer　she　sat　silent　in　the　peaceful　room；　trying　to　sew；　listening　to　Melanie’s　voice；　the　tighter　her　nerves　stretched。　She　felt　that　at　any　moment　she　would　actually　hear　them　break　with　the　same　pinging　sound　a　banjo　string　makes　when　it　snaps。
　Archie’s　whittling　annoyed　her　and　she　frowned　at　him。　Suddenly　it　seemed　odd　that　he　should　be　sitting　there　occupying　himself　with　a　piece　of　wood。　Usually　he　lay　flat　on　the　sofa；　during　the　evenings　when　he　was　on　guard；　and　slept　and　snored　so　violently　that　his　long　beard　leaped　into　the　air　with　each　rumbling　breath。　It　was　odder　still　that　neither　Melanie　nor　India　hinted　to　him　that　he　should　spread　a　paper　on　the　floor　to　catch　his　litter　of　shavings。　He　had　already　made　a　perfect　mess　on　the　hearth　rug　but　they　did　not　seem　to　have　noticed　it。
　While　she　watched　him；　Archie　turned　suddenly　toward　the　fire　and　spat　a　stream　of　tobacco　juice　on　it　with　such　vehemence　that　India；　Melanie　and　Pitty　leaped　as　though　a　bomb　had　exploded。
　“Need　you　expectorate　so　loudly？”　cried　India　in　a　voice　that　cracked　with　nervous　annoyance。　Scarlett　looked　at　her　in　surprise　for　India　was　always　so　self…contained。
　Archie　gave　her　look　for　look。
　“I　reckon　I　do；”　he　answered　coldly　and　spat　again。　Melanie　gave　a　little　frowning　glance　at　India。
　“I　was　always　so　glad　dear　Papa　didn’t　chew；”　began　Pitty；　and　Melanie；　her　frown　creasing　deeper；　swung　on　her　and　spoke　sharper　words　than　Scarlett　had　ever　heard　her　speak。
　“Oh；　do　hush；　Auntie！　You’re　so　tactless。”
　“Oh；　dear！”　Pitty　dropped　her　sewing　in　her　lap　and　her　mouth　pressed　up　in　hurt。　“I　declare；　I　don’t　know　What　ails　you　all　tonight　You　and　India　are　just　as　jumpy　and　cross　as　two　old　sticks。”
　No　one　answered　her。　Melanie　did　not　even　apologize　for　her　crossness　but　went　back　to　her　sewing　with　small　violence。
　“You’re　taking　stitches　an　inch　long；”　declared　Pitty　with　some　satisfaction。　“You’ll　have　to　take　every　one　of　them　out。　What’s　the　matter　with　you？”
　But　Melanie　still　did　not　answer。
　Was　there　anything　the　matter　with　them；　Scarlett　wondered？　Had　she　been　too　absorbed　with　her　own　fears　to　notice？　Yes；　despite　Melanie’s　attempts　to　make　the　evening　appear　like　any　one　of　fifty　they　had　all　spent　together；　there　was　a　difference　due　to　their　alarm　and　shock　at　what　had　happened　that　afternoon。　Scarlett　stole　glances　at　her　companions　and　intercepted　a　look　from　India。　It　discomforted　her　because　it　was　a　long；　measuring　glance　that　carried　in　its　cold　depths　something　stronger　than　hate；　something　more　insulting　than　contempt。
　“As　though　she　thought　I　was　to　blame　for　what　happened；”　Scarlett　thought　indignantly。
　India　turned　from　her　to　Archie　and；　all　annoyance　at　him　gone　from　her　face；　gave　him　a　look　of　veiled　anxious　inquiry。　But　he　did　not　meet　her　eyes。　He　did　however　look　at　Scarlett；　staring　at　her　in　the　same　cold　hard　way　India　had　done。
　Silence　fell　dully　in　the　room　as　Melanie　did　not　take　up　the　conversation　again　and；　in　the　silence；　Scarlett　heard　the　rising　wind　outside。　It　suddenly　began　to　be　a　most　unpleasant　evening。　Now　she　began　to　feel　the　tensio