飘

ked　that　way　the　day　his　pet　hunter　had　broken　his　leg　and　he　had　had　to　shoot　him。　Why　did　she　have　to　think　of　that　now？　Such　a　silly　thought。　And　why　did　Ashley　look　so　oddly　and　say　nothing？　Then　something　like　a　well…trained　mask　came　down　over　his　face　and　he　smiled　gallantly。
　“Isn’t　it　enough　that　you’ve　collected　every　other　man’s　heart　here　today？”　he　said；　with　the　old；　teasing；　caressing　note　in　his　voice。　“Do　you　want　to　make　it　unanimous？　Well；　you’ve　always　had　my　heart；　you　know。　You　cut　your　teeth　on　it。”
　Something　was　wrong—all　wrong！　This　was　not　the　way　she　had　planned　it。　Through　the　mad　tearing　of　ideas　round　and　round　in　her　brain；　one　was　beginning　to　take　form。　Somehow—for　some　reason—Ashley　was　acting　as　if　he　thought　she　was　just　flirting　with　him。　But　he　knew　differently。　She　knew　he　did。
　“Ashley—Ashley—tell　me—you　must—oh；　don’t　tease　me　now！　Have　I　your　heart？　Oh；　my　dear；　I　lo—”
　His　hand　went　across　her　lips；　swiftly。　The　mask　was　gone。
　“You　must　not　say　these　things；　Scarlett！　You　mustn’t。　You　don’t　mean　them。　You’ll　hate　yourself　for　saying　them；　and　you’ll　hate　me　for　hearing　them！”
　She　jerked　her　head　away。　A　hot　swift　current　was　running　through　her。
　“I　couldn’t　ever　hate　you。　I　tell　you　I　love　you　and　I　know　you　must　care　about　me　because—”　She　stopped。　Never　before　had　she　seen　so　much　misery　in　anyone’s　face。　“Ashley；　do　you　care—you　do；　don’t　you？”
　“Yes；”　he　said　dully。　“I　care。”
　If　he　had　said　he　loathed　her；　she　could　not　have　been　more　frightened。　She　plucked　at　his　sleeve；　speechless。
　“Scarlett；”　he　said；　“can’t　we　go　away　and　forget　that　we　have　ever　said　these　things？”
　“No；”　she　whispered。　“I　can’t。　What　do　you　mean？　Don’t　you　want　to—to　marry　me？”
　He　replied；　I’m　going　to　marry　Melanie。”
　Somehow　she　found　that　she　was　sitting　on　the　low　velvet　chair　and　Ashley；　on　the　hassock　at　her　feet；　was　holding　both　her　hands　in　his；　in　a　hard　grip。　He　was　saying　things—things　that　made　no　sense。　Her　mind　was　quite　blank；　quite　empty　of　all　the　thoughts　that　had　surged　through　it　only　a　moment　before；　and　his　words　made　no　more　impression　than　rain　on　glass。　They　fell　on　unhearing　ears；　words　that　were　swift　and　tender　and　full　of　pity；　like　a　father　speaking　to　a　hurt　child。
　The　sound　of　Melanie’s　name　caught　in　her　consciousness　and　she　looked　into　his　crystal…gray　eyes。　She　saw　in　them　the　old　remoteness　that　had　always　baffled　her—and　a　look　of　self…hatred。
　“Father　is　to　announce　the　engagement　tonight。　We　are　to　be　married　soon。　I　should　have　told　you；　but　I　thought　you　knew。　I　thought　everyone　knew—had　known　for　years。　I　never　dreamed　that　you—　You’ve　so　many　beaux。　I　thought　Stuart—”
　Life　and　feeling　and　comprehension　were　beginning　to　flow　back　into　her。
　“But　you　just　said　you　cared　for　me。”
　His　warm　hands　hurt　hers。
　“My　dear；　must　you　make　me　say　things　that　will　hurt　you？”
　Her　silence　pressed　him　on。
　“How　can　I　make　you　see　these　things；　my　dear。　You　who　are　so　young　and　unthinking　that　you　do　not　know　what　marriage　means。”
　“I　know　I　love　you。”
　“Love　isn’t　enough　to　make　a　successful　marriage　when　two　people　are　as　different　as　we　are。　You　would　want　all　of　a　man；　Scarlett；　his　body；　his　heart；　his　soul；　his　thoughts。　And　if　you　did　not　have　them；　you　would　be　miserable。　And　I　couldn’t　give　you　all　of　me。　I　couldn’t　give　all　of　me　to　anyone。　And　I　would　not　want　an　of　your　mind　and　your　soul。　And　you　would　be　hurt；　and　then　you　would　come　to　hate　me—how　bitterly！　You　would　hate　the　books　I　read　and　the　music　I　loved；　because　they　took　me　away　from　you　even　for　a　moment　And　I—perhaps　I—”
　“Do　you　love　her？”
　“She　is　like　me；　part　of　my　blood；　and　we　understand　each　other。　Scarlett！　Scarlett！　Can’t　I　make　you　see　that　a　marriage　can’t　go　on　in　any　sort　of　peace　unless　the　two　people　are　alike？”
　Some　one　else　had　said　that：　“Like　must　marry　like　or　there’ll　be　no　happiness。”　Who　was　it？　It　seemed　a　million　years　since　she　had　heard　that；　but　it　still　did　not　make　sense。
　“But　you　said　you　cared。”
　“I　shouldn’t　have　said　it。”
　Somewhere　in　her　brain；　a　slow　fire　rose　and　rage　began　to　blot　out　everything　else。
　“Well；　having　been　cad　enough　to　say　it—”
　His　face　went　white。
　“I　was　a　cad　to　say　it；　as　I’m　going　to　marry　Melanie。　I　did　you　a　wrong　and　Melanie　a　greater　one。　I　should　not　have　said　it；　for　I　knew　you　wouldn’t　understand。　How　could　I　help　caring　for　you—you　who　have　all　the　passion　for　life　that　I　have　not？　You　who　can　love　and　hate　with　a　violence　impossible　to　me？　Why　you　are　as　elemental　as　fire　and　wind　and　wild　things　and　I—”
　She　thought　of　Melanie　and　saw　suddenly　her　quiet　brown　eyes　with　their　far…off　look；　her　placid　little　hands　in　their　black　lace　mitts；　her　gentle　silences。　And　then　her　rage　broke；　the　same　rage　that　drove　Gerald　to　murder　and　other　Irish　ancestors　to　misdeeds　that　cost　them　their　necks。　There　was　nothing　in　her　now　of　the　well…bred　Robillards　who　could　bear　with　white　silence　anything　the　world　might　cast。
　“Why　don’t　you　say　it；　you　coward！　You’re　afraid　to　marry　me！　You’d　rather　live　with　that　stupid　little　fool　who　can’t　open　her　mouth　except　to　say　‘Yes’　or　‘No’　and　raise　a　passel　of　mealy…mouthed　brats　just　like　her！　Why—”
　“You　must　not　say　these　things　about　Melanie！”
　“　‘I　mustn’t’　be　damned　to　you！　Who　are　you　to　tell　me　I　mustn’t？　You　coward；　you　cad；　you—　You　made　me　believe　you　were　going　to　marry　me—”
　“Be　fair；”　his　voice　pleaded。　“Did　I　ever—”
　She　did　not　want　to　be　fair；　although　she　knew　what　he　said　was　true。　He　had　never　once　crossed　the　borders　of　friendliness　with　her　and；　when　she　thought　of　this　fresh　anger　rose；　the　anger　of　hurt　pride　and　feminine　vanity。　She　had　run　after　him　and　he　would　have　none　of　her。　He　preferred　a　whey…faced　little　fool　like　Melanie　to　her。　Oh；　far　better　that　she　had　followed　Ellen　and　Mammy’s　precepts　and　never；　never　revealed　that　she　even　liked　him—better　anything　than　to　be　faced　with　this　scorching　shame！
　She　sprang　to　her　feet；　her　hands　clenched　and　he　rose　towering　over　her。　his　face　full　of　the　mute　misery　of　one　forced　to　face　realities　when　realities　are　agonies。
　“I　shall　hate　you　till　I　die；　you　cad—you　lowdown—lowdown—”　What　was　the　word　she　wanted？　She　could　not　think　of　any　word　bad　enough。
　“Scarlett—please—”
　He　put　out　his　hand　toward　her　and；　as　he　did；　she　slapped　him　across　the　face　with　all　the　strength　she　had。　The　noise　cracked　like　a　whip　in　the　still　room　and　suddenly　her　rage　was　gone；　and　there　was　desolation　in　her　heart。
　The　red　mark　of　her　hand　showed　plainly　on　his　white　tired　face。　He　said　nothing；　but　lifted　her　limp　hand　to　his　lips　and　kissed　it。　Then　he　was　gone　before　she　could　speak　again；　closing　the　door　softly　behind　him。
　She　sat　down　again　very　suddenly；　the　reaction　from　her　rage　making　her　knees　feel　weak。　He　was　gone　and　the　memory　of　his　stricken　face　would　haunt　her　till　she　died。
　She　heard　the　soft　muffled　sound　of　his　footsteps　dying　away　down　the　long　hall；　and　the　complete　enormity　of　her　actions　came　over　her。　She　had　lost　him　forever。　Now　he　would　hate　her　and　every　time　he　looked　at　her　he　would　remember　how　she　threw　herself　at　him　when　he　had　given　her　no　encouragement　at　all。
　“I’m　as　bad　as　Honey　Wilkes；”　she　thought　suddenly；　and　remembered　how　everyone；　and　she　more　than　anyone　else；　had　laughed　contemptuously　at　Honey’s　forward　conduct。　She　saw　Honey’s　awkward　wigglings　and　heard　her　silly　titters　as　she　hung　onto　boys’　arms；　and　the　thought　stung　her　to　new　rage；　rage　at　herself；　at　Ashley；　at　the　world。　Because　she　hated　herself；　she　hated　them　all　with　the　fury　of　the　thwarted　and　humiliated　love　of　sixteen。　Only　a　little　true　tenderness　had　been　mixed　into　her　love。　Mostly　it　had　been　compounded　out　of　vanity　and　complacent　confidence　in　her　own　charms。　Now　she　had　lost　and；　greater　than　her　sense　of　loss；　was　the　fear　that　she　had　made　a　public　spectacle　of　herself。　Had　she　been　as　obvious　as　Honey？　Was　everyone　laughing　at　her？　She　began　to　shake　at　the　thought。
　Her　hand　dropped　to　a　little　table　beside　her；　fingering　a　tiny　china　rose…bowl　on　which　two　china　cherubs　smirked。　The　room　was　so　still　she　almost　screamed　to　break　the　silence。　She　must　do　something　or　go　mad。　She　picked　up　the　bowl　and　hurled　it　viciously　across　the　room　toward　the　fireplace。　It　barely　cleared　the　tall　back　of　the　sofa　and　splintered　with　a　little　crash　against　the　marble　mantelpiece。
　“This；”　said　a　voice　from　the　depths　of　the　sofa；　“is　too　much。”
　Nothing　had　ever　startled　or　frightened　her　so　much；　and　her　mouth　went　too　dry　for　her　to　utter　a　sound。　She　caught　hold　of　the　back　of　the　chair；　her　knees　going　weak　under　her；　as　Rhett　Butler　rose　from　the　sofa　where　he　had　been　lying　and　made　her　a　bow　of　exaggerated　politeness。
　“It　is　bad　enough　to　have　an　afternoon　nap　disturbed　by　such　a　passage　as　I’ve　been　forced　to　hear；　but　why　should　my　life　be　endangered？”
　He　was　real。　He　wasn’t　a　ghost。　But；　saints　preserve　us；　he　had　heard　everything！　She　rallied　her　forces　into　a　sem