飘

ng　wind　outside。　It　suddenly　began　to　be　a　most　unpleasant　evening。　Now　she　began　to　feel　the　tension　in　the　air　and　she　wondered　if　it　had　been　present　all　during　the　evening—and　she　too　upset　to　notice　it。　About　Archie’s　face　there　was　an　alert　waiting　look　and　his　tufted；　hairy　old　ears　seemed　pricked　up　like　a　lynx’s。　There　was　a　severely　repressed　uneasiness　about　Melanie　and　India　that　made　them　raise　their　heads　from　their　sewing　at　each　sound　of　hooves　in　the　road；　at　each　groan　of　bare　branches　under　the　wailing　wind；　at　each　scuffing　sound　of　dry　leaves　tumbling　across　the　lawn。　They　started　at　each　soft　snap　of　burning　logs　on　the　hearth　as　if　they　were　stealthy　footsteps。
　Something　was　wrong　and　Scarlett　wondered　what　it　was。　Something　was　afoot　and　she　did　not　know　about　it。　A　glance　at　Aunt　Pitty’s　plump　guileless　face；　screwed　up　in　a　pout；　told　her　that　the　old　lady　was　as　ignorant　as　she。　But　Archie　and　Melanie　and　India　knew。　In　the　silence　she　could　almost　feel　the　thoughts　of　India　and　Melanie　whirling　as　madly　as　squirrels　in　a　cage。　They　knew　something；　were　waiting　for　something；　despite　their　efforts　to　make　things　appear　as　usual。　And　their　inner　unease　communicated　itself　to　Scarlett；　making　her　more　nervous　than　before。　Handling　her　needle　awkwardly；　she　jabbed　it　into　her　thumb　and　with　a　little　scream　of　pain　and　annoyance　that　made　them　all　jump；　she　squeezed　it　until　a　bright　red　drop　appeared。
　“I’m　just　too　nervous　to　sew；”　she　declared；　throwing　her　mending　to　the　floor。　“I’m　nervous　enough　to　scream。　I　want　to　go　home　and　go　to　bed。　And　Frank　knew　it　and　he　oughtn’t　to　have　gone　out。　He　talks；　talks；　talks　about　protecting　women　against　darkies　and　Carpetbaggers　and　when　the　time　comes　for　him　to　do　some　protecting；　where　is　he？　At　home；　taking　care　of　me？　No；　indeed；　he’s　gallivanting　around　with　a　lot　of　other　men　who　don’t　do　anything　but　talk　and—”
　Her　snapping　eyes　came　to　rest　on　India’s　face　and　she　paused。　India　was　breathing　fast　and　her　pale　lashless　eyes　were　fastened　on　Scarlett’s　face　with　a　deadly　coldness。
　“If　it　won’t　pain　you　too　much；　India；”　she　broke　off　sarcastically；　“I’d　be　much　obliged　if　you’d　tell　me　why　you’ve　been　staring　at　me　all　evening。　Has　my　face　turned　green　or　something？”
　“It　won’t　pain　me　to　tell　you。　I’ll　do　it　with　pleasure；”　said　India　and　her　eyes　glittered。　“I　hate　to　see　you　underrate　a　fine　man　like　Mr。　Kennedy　when；　if　you　knew—”
　“India！”　said　Melanie　warningly；　her　hands　clenching　on　her　sewing。
　“I　think　I　know　my　husband　better　than　you　do；”　said　Scarlett；　the　prospect　of　a　quarrel；　the　first　open　quarrel　she　had　ever　had　with　India；　making　her　spirits　rise　and　her　nervousness　depart。　Melanie’s　eyes　caught　India’s　and　reluctantly　India　closed　her　lips。　But　almost　instantly　she　spoke　again　and　her　voice　was　cold　with　hate。
　“You　make　me　sick；　Scarlett　O’Hara；　talking　about　being　protected！　You　don’t　care　about　being　protected！　If　you　did　you’d　never　have　exposed　yourself　as　you　have　done　all　these　months；　prissing　yourself　about　this　town；　showing　yourself　off　to　strange　men；　hoping　they’ll　admire　you！　What　happened　to　you　this　afternoon　was　just　what　you　deserved　and　if　there　was　any　justice　you’d　have　gotten　worse。”
　“Oh；　India；　hush！”　cried　Melanie。
　“Let　her　talk；”　cried　Scarlett　“I’m　enjoying　it。　I　always　knew　she　hated　me　and　she　was　too　much　of　a　hypocrite　to　admit　it。　If　she　thought　anyone　would　admire　her；　she’d　be　walking　the　streets　naked　from　dawn　till　dark。”
　India　was　on　her　feet　her　lean　body　quivering　with　insult。
　“I　do　hate　you；”　she　said　in　a　clear　but　trembling　voice。　“But　it　hasn’t　been　hypocrisy　that’s　kept　me　quiet　It’s　something　you　can’t　understand；　not　possessing　any—any　common　courtesy；　common　good　breeding。　It’s　the　realization　that　if　all　of　us　don’t　hang　together　and　submerge　our　own　small　hates；　we　can’t　expect　to　beat　the　Yankees。　But　you—you—you’ve　done　all　you　could　to　lower　the　prestige　of　decent　people—working　and　bringing　shame　on　a　good　husband；　giving　Yankees　and　riffraff　the　right　to　laugh　at　us　and　make　insulting　remarks　about　our　lack　of　gentility。　Yankees　don’t　know　that　you　aren’t　one　of　us　and　have　never　been。　Yankees　haven’t　sense　enough　to　know　that　you　haven’t　any　gentility。　And　when　you’ve　ridden　about　the　woods　exposing　yourself　to　attack；　you’ve　exposed　every　well…behaved　woman　in　town　to　attack　by　putting　temptation　in　the　ways　of　darkies　and　mean　white　trash。　And　you’ve　put　our　men　folks’　lives　in　danger　because　they’ve　got　to—”
　“My　God；　India！”　cried　Melanie　and　even　in　her　wrath；　Scarlett　was　stunned　to　hear　Melanie　take　the　Lord’s　name　in　vain。　“You　must　hush！　She　doesn’t　know　and　she—you　must　hush！　You　promised—”
　“Oh；　girls！”　pleaded　Miss　Pittypat；　her　lips　trembling。
　“What　don’t　I　know？”　Scarlett　was　on　her　feet；　furious；　facing　the　coldly　blazing　India　and　the　imploring　Melanie。
　“Guinea　hens；”　said　Archie　suddenly　and　his　voice　was　contemptuous。　Before　anyone　could　rebuke　him；　his　grizzled　head　went　up　sharply　and　he　rose　swiftly。　“Somebody　comin’　up　the　walk。　‘Tain’t　Mr。　Wilkes　neither。　Cease　your　cackle。”
　There　was　male　authority　in　his　voice　and　the　women　stood　suddenly　silent　anger　fading　swiftly　from　their　faces　as　he　stumped　across　the　room　to　the　door。
　“Who’s　thar？”　he　questioned　before　the　caller　even　knocked。
　“Captain　Butler。　Let　me　in。”
　Melanie　was　across　the　floor　so　swiftly　that　her　hoops　swayed　up　violently；　revealing　her　pantalets　to　the　knees；　and　before　Archie　could　put　his　hand　on　the　knob　she　flung　the　door　open。　Rhett　Butler　stood　in　the　doorway；　his　black　slouch　hat　low　over　his　eyes；　the　wild　wind　whipping　his　cape　about　him　in　snapping　folds。　For　once　his　good　manners　had　deserted　him。　He　neither　took　off　his　hat　nor　spoke　to　the　others　in　the　room。　He　had　eyes　for　no　one　but　Melanie　and　he　spoke　abruptly　without　greeting。
　“Where　have　they　gone？　Tell　me　quickly。　It’s　life　or　death。”
　Scarlett　and　Pitty；　startled　and　bewildered；　looked　at　each　other　in　wonderment　and；　like　a　lean　old　cat；　India　streaked　across　the　room　to　Melanie’s　side。
　“Don’t　tell　him　anything；”　she　cried　swiftly。　“He’s　a　spy；　a　Scalawag！”
　Rhett　did　not　even　favor　her　with　a　glance。
　“Quickly；　Mrs。　Wilkes！　There　may　still　be　time。”
　Melanie　seemed　in　a　paralysis　of　terror　and　only　stared　into　his　face。
　“What　on　earth—”　began　Scarlett。
　“Shet　yore　mouth；”　directed　Archie　briefly。　“You　too；　Miss　Melly。　Git　the　hell　out　of　here；　you　damned　Scalawag。”
　“No；　Archie；　no！”　cried　Melanie　and　she　put　a　shaking　hand　on　Rhett’s　arm　as　though　to　protect　him　from　Archie。　“What　has　happened？　How　did—how　did　you　know？”
　On　Rhett’s　dark　face　impatience　fought　with　courtesy。
　“Good　God；　Mrs。　Wilkes；　they’ve　all　been　under　suspicion　since　the　beginning—only　they’ve　been　too　clever—until　tonight！　How　do　I　know？　I　was　playing　poker　tonight　with　two　drunken　Yankee　captains　and　they　let　it　out。　The　Yankees　knew　there’d　be　trouble　tonight　and　they’ve　prepared　for　it。　The　fools　have　walked　into　a　trap。”
　For　a　moment　it　was　as　though　Melanie　swayed　under　the　impact　of　a　heavy　blow　and　Rhett’s　arm　went　around　her　waist　to　steady　her。
　“Don’t　tell　him！　He’s　trying　to　trap　you！”　cried　India；　glaring　at　Rhett。　“Didn’t　you　hear　him　say　he’d　been　with　Yankee　officers　tonight？”
　Still　Rhett　did　not　look　at　her。　His　eyes　were　bent　insistently　on　Melanie’s　white　face。
　“Tell　me。　Where　did　they　go？　Have　they　a　meeting　place？”
　Despite　her　fear　and　incomprehension；　Scarlett　thought　she　had　never　seen　a　blanker；　more　expressionless　face　than　Rhett’s　but　evidently　Melanie　saw　something　else；　something　that　made　her　give　her　trust。　She　straightened　her　small　body　away　from　the　steadying　arm　and　said　quietly　but　with　a　voice　that　shook：
　“Out　the　Decatur　road　near　Shantytown。　They　meet　in　the　cellar　of　the　old　Sullivan　plantation—the　one　that’s　half…burned。”
　“Thank　you。　I’ll　ride　fast。　When　the　Yankees　come　here；　none　of　you　know　anything。”
　He　was　gone　so　swiftly；　his　black　cape　melting　into　the　night；　that　they　could　hardly　realize　he　had　been　there　at　all　until　they　heard　the　spattering　of　gravel　and　the　mad　pounding　of　a　horse　going　off　at　full　gallop。
　“The　Yankees　coming　here？”　cried　Pitty　and；　her　small　feet　turning　under　her；　she　collapsed　on　the　sofa；　too　frightened　for　tears。
　“What’s　it　all　about？　What　did　he　mean？　If　you　don’t　tell　me　I’ll　go　crazy！”　Scarlett　laid　hands　on　Melanie　and　shook　her　violently　as　if　by　force　she　could　shake　an　answer　from　her。
　“Mean？　It　means　you’ve　probably　been　the　cause　of　Ashley’s　and　Mr。　Kennedy’s　death！”　In　spite　of　the　agony　of　fear　there　was　a　note　of　triumph　in　India’s　voice。　“Stop　shaking　Melly。　She’s　going　to　faint。”
　“No；　I’m　not；”　whispered　Melanie；　clutching　the　back　of　a　chair。
　“My　God；　my　God！　I　don’t　understand！　Kill　Ashley？　Please；　somebody　tell　me—”
　Archie’s　voice；　like　a　rusty　hinge；　cut　through　Scarlett’s　words。
　“Set　down；”　he　ordered　briefly。　“Pick　up　yore　sewin’。　Sew　like　nothin’　had　happened