飘

　“We’ve　come　a　long　way；　both　of　us；　since　that　day；　haven’t　we；　Scarlett？　We’ve　traveled　roads　we　never　expected　to　travel。　You’ve　come　swiftly；　directly；　and　I；　slowly　and　reluctantly。”
　He　sat　down　on　the　table　again　and　looked　at　her　and　a　small　smile　crept　back　into　his　face。　But　it　was　not　the　smile　that　had　made　her　so　happy　so　short　a　while　before。　It　was　a　bleak　smile。
　“Yes；　you　came　swiftly；　dragging　me　at　your　chariot　wheels。　Scarlett；　sometimes　I　have　an　impersonal　curiosity　as　to　what　would　have　happened　to　me　without　you。”
　Scarlett　went　quickly　to　defend　him　from　himself；　more　quickly　because　treacherously　there　rose　to　her　mind　Rhett’s　words　on　this　same　subject；
　“But　I’ve　never　done　anything　for　you；　Ashley。　Without　me；　you’d　have　been　just　the　same。　Some　day；　you’d　have　been　a　rich　man；　a　great　man　like　you　are　going　to　be。”
　“No；　Scarlett；　the　seeds　of　greatness　were　never　in　me。　I　think　that　if　it　hadn’t　been　for　you；　I’d　have　gone　down　into　oblivion—like　poor　Cathleen　Calvert　and　so　many　other　people　who　once　had　great　names；　old　names。”
　“Oh；　Ashley；　don’t　talk　like　that。　You　sound　so　sad。”
　“No；　I’m　not　sad。　Not　any　longer。　Once—once　I　was　sad。　Now；　I’m　only—”
　He　stopped　and　suddenly　she　knew　what　he　was　thinking。　It　was　the　first　time　she　had　ever　known　what　Ashley　was　thinking　when　his　eyes　went　past　her；　crystal　clear；　absent　When　the　fury　of　love　had　beaten　in　her　heart；　his　mind　had　been　closed　to　her。　Now；　in　the　quiet　friendliness　that　lay　between　them；　she　could　walk　a　little　way　into　his　mind；　understand　a　little。　He　was　not　sad　any　longer。　He　had　been　sad　after　the　surrender；　sad　when　she　begged　him　to　come　to　Atlanta。　Now；　he　was　only　resigned。
　“I　hate　to　hear　you　talk　like　that；　Ashley；”　she　said　vehemently。　“You　sound　just　like　Rhett。　He’s　always　harping　on　things　like　that　and　something　he　calls　the　survival　of　the　fitting　till　I’m　so　bored　I　could　scream。”
　Ashley　smiled。
　“Did　you　ever　stop　to　think；　Scarlett；　that　Rhett　and　I　are　fundamentally　alike？”
　“Oh；　no！　You　are　so　fine；　so　honorable　and　he—”　She　broke　off；　confused。
　“But　we　are。　We　came　of　the　same　kind　of　people；　we　were　raised　in　the　same　pattern；　brought　up　to　think　the　same　things。　And　somewhere　along　the　road　we　took　different　turnings。　We　still　think　alike　but　we　react　differently。　As；　for　instance；　neither　of　us　believed　in　the　war　but　I　enlisted　and　fought　and　he　stayed　out　till　nearly　the　end。　We　both　knew　the　war　was　all　wrong。　We　both　knew　it　was　a　losing　fight；　I　was　willing　to　fight　a　losing　fight。　He　wasn’t。　Sometimes　I　think　he　was　right　and　then；　again—”
　“Oh；　Ashley；　when　will　you　stop　seeing　both　sides　of　questions？”　she　asked。　But　she　did　not　speak　impatiently　as　she　once　would　have　done。　“No　one　ever　gets　anywhere　seeing　both　sides。”
　“That’s　true　but—Scarlett；　just　where　do　you　want　to　get？　I’ve　often　wondered。　You　see；　I　never　wanted　to　get　anywhere　at　all。　I’ve　only　wanted　to　be　myself。”
　Where　did　she　want　to　get？　That　was　a　silly　question。　Money　and　security；　of　course。　And　yet—　Her　mind　fumbled。　She　had　money　and　as　much　security　as　one　could　hope　for　in　an　insecure　world。　But；　now　that　she　thought　about　it；　they　weren’t　quite　enough。　Now　that　she　thought　about　it；　they　hadn’t　made　her　particularly　happy；　though　they　made　her　less　harried；　less　fearful　of　the　morrow。　If　I’d　had　money　and　security　and　you；　that　would　have　been　where　I　wanted　to　get；　she　thought；　looking　at　him　yearningly。　But　she　did　not　speak　the　words；　fearful　of　breaking　the　spell　that　lay　between　them；　fearful　that　his　mind　would　close　against　her。
　“You　only　want　to　be　yourself？”　she　laughed；　a　little　ruefully。　“Not　being　myself　has　always　been　my　hardest　trouble！　As　to　where　I　want　to　get；　well；　I　guess　I’ve　gotten　there。　I　wanted　to　be　rich　and　safe　and—”
　“But；　Scarlett；　did　it　ever　occur　to　you　that　I　don’t　care　whether　I’m　rich　or　not？”
　No；　it　had　never　occurred　to　her　that　anyone　would　not　want　to　be　rich。
　“Then；　what　do　you　want？”
　“I　don’t　know；　now。　I　knew　once　but　I’ve　half　forgotten。　Mostly　to　be　left　alone；　not　to　be　harried　by　people　I　don’t　like；　driven　to　do　things　I　don’t　want　to　do。　Perhaps—I　want　the　old　days　back　again　and　they’ll　never　come　back；　and　I　am　haunted　by　the　memory　of　them　and　of　the　world　falling　about　my　ears。”
　Scarlett　set　her　mouth　obstinately。　It　was　not　that　she　did　not　know　what　he　meant。　The　very　tones　of　his　voice　called　up　other　days　as　nothing　else　could；　made　her　heart　hurt　suddenly；　as　she　too　remembered。　But　since　the　day　she　had　lain　sick　and　desolate　in　the　garden　at　Twelve　Oaks　and　said：　“I　won’t　look　back；”　she　had　set　her　face　against　the　past。
　“I　like　these　days　better；”　she　said。　But　she　did　not　meet　his　eyes　as　she　spoke。　“There’s　always　something　exciting　happening　now；　parties　and　so　on。　Everything’s　got　a　glitter　to　it。　The　old　days　were　so　dull。”　（Oh；　lazy　days　and　warm　still　country　twilights！　The　high　soft　laughter　from　the　quarters！　The　golden　warmth　life　had　then　and　the　comforting　knowledge　of　what　all　tomorrows　would　bring！　How　can　I　deny　you？）
　“I　like　these　days　better；”　she　said　but　her　voice　was　tremulous。
　He　slipped　from　the　table；　laughing　softly　in　unbelief。　Putting　his　hand　under　her　chin；　he　turned　her　face　up　to　his。
　“Ah；　Scarlett；　what　a　poor　liar　you　are！　Yes；　life　has　a　glitter　now—of　a　sort　That’s　what’s　wrong　with　it。　The　old　days　had　no　glitter　but　they　had　a　charm；　a　beauty；　a　slow…paced　glamour。”
　Her　mind　pulled　two　ways；　she　dropped　her　eyes。　The　sound　of　his　voice；　the　touch　of　his　hand　were　softly　unlocking　doors　that　she　had　locked　forever。　Behind　those　doors　lay　the　beauty　of　the　old　days；　and　a　sad　hunger　for　them　welled　up　within　her。　But　she　knew　that　no　matter　what　beauty　lay　behind；　it　must　remain　there。　No　one　could　go　forward　with　a　load　of　aching　memories。
　His　hand　dropped　from　her　chin　and　he　took　one　of　her　hands　between　his　two　and　held　it　gently。
　“Do　you　remember；”　he　said—and　a　warning　bell　in　her　mind　rang：　Don’t　look　back！　Don’t　look　back！
　But　she　swiftly　disregarded　it；　swept　forward　on　a　tide　of　happiness。　At　last　she　was　understanding　him；　at　last　their　minds　had　met。　This　moment　was　too　precious　to　be　lost；　no　matter　what　pain　came　after。
　“Do　you　remember；”　he　said　and　under　the　spell　of　his　voice　the　bare　walls　of　the’little　office　faded　and　the　years　rolled　aside　and　they　were　riding　country　bridle　paths　together　in　a　long…gone　spring。　As　he　spoke；　his　light　grip　tightened　on　her　hand　and　in　his　voice　was　the　sad　magic　of　old　half…forgotten　songs。　She　could　hear　the　gay　jingle　of　bridle　bits　as　they　rode　under　the　dogwood　trees　to　the　Tarletons’　picnic；　hear　her　own　careless　laughter；　see　the　sun　glinting　on　his　silver…gilt　hair　and　note　the　proud　easy　grace　with　which　he　sat　his　horse。　There　was　music　in　his　voice；　the　music　of　fiddles　and　banjos　to　which　they　had　danced　in　the　white　house　that　was　no　more。　There　was　the　far…off　yelping　of　possum　dogs　in　the　dark　swamp　under　cool　autumn　moons　and　the　smell　of　eggnog　bowls；　wreathed　with　holly　at　Christmas　time　and　smiles　on　black　and　white　faces。　And　old　friends　came　trooping　back；　laughing　as　though　they　had　not　been　dead　these　many　years：　Stuart　and　Brent　with　their　long　legs　and　their　red　hair　and　their　practical　jokes；　Tom　and　Boyd　as　wild　as　young　horses；　Joe　Fontaine　with　his　hot　black　eyes；　and　Cade　and　Raiford　Calvert　who　moved　with　such　languid　grace。　There　was　John　Wilkes；　too；　and　Gerald；　red　with　brandy；　and　a　whisper　and　a　fragrance　that　was　Ellen。　Over　it　all　rested　a　sense　of　security；　a　knowledge　that　tomorrow　could　only　bring　the　same　happiness　today　had　brought。
　His　voice　stopped　and　they　looked　for　a　long　quiet　moment　into　each　other’s　eyes　and　between　them　lay　the　sunny　lost　youth　that　they　had　so　unthinkingly　shared。
　“Now　I　know　why　you　can’t　be　happy；”　she　thought　sadly。　“I　never　understood　before。　I　never　understood　before　why　I　wasn’t　altogether　happy　either。　But—why；　we　are　talking　like　old　people　talk！”　she　thought　with　dreary　surprise。　“Old　people　looking　back　fifty　years。　And　we’re　not　old！　It’s　just　that　so　much　has　happened　in　between。　Everything’s　changed　so　much　that　it　seems　like　fifty　years　ago。　But　we’re　not　old！”
　But　when　she　looked　at　Ashley　he　was　no　longer　young　and　shining。　His　head　was　bowed　as　he　looked　down　absently　at　her　hand　which　he　still　held　and　she　saw　that　his　once　bright　hair　was　very　gray；　silver　gray　as　moonlight　on　still　water。　Somehow　the　bright　beauty　had　gone　from　the　April　afternoon　and　from　her　heart　as　well　and　the　sad　sweetness　of　remembering　was　as　bitter　as　gall。
　“I　shouldn’t　have　let　him　make　me　look　back；”　she　thought　despairingly。　“I　was　right　when　I　said　I’d　never　look　back。　It　hurts　too　much；　it　drags　at　your　heart　till　you　can’t　ever　do　anything　else　except　look　back。　That’s　what’s　wrong　with　Ashley。　He　can’t　look　forward　any　more。　He　can’t　see　the　present；　he　fears　the　future；　and　so　he　looks　back。　I　never　understood　it　before。　I　never　understood　Ashley　before。　Oh；　Ashley；　my　darling；　you　shouldn’t　look　b