Her heart was quieter now and she went up the steps into the silent hall. Carefully, she opened the door of the dressing room and slipped in. Honey Wilkes’ voice, almost in a whisper, came to her through the crack of the opposite door leading into the bedroom.
“I think Scarlett acted as fast as a girl could act today.”
Scarlett felt her heart begin its mad racing again. But the next voice made her pause as she heard Melanie’s voice.
“Oh, Honey, no! Don’t be unkind. She’s just vivacious. I thought her most charming.”
“Well, Miss,” said Honey tartly, her voice rising, “you must be blind. Well, you saw how she was carrying on with every man she could get hold of – even Mr. Kennedy and he’s her own sister’s beau. I never saw the like! And she certainly was going after Charles.” Honey giggled self-consciously. “And you know, Charles and I —”
“Are you really?” whispered other voices excitedly.
“Well, don’t tell anybody, girls – not yet!”
There were more giggling, then Melanie murmured something about how happy she was that Honey would be her sister.
“Well, I won’t be happy to have Scarlett for my sister, because she’s a fast piece[23]. And if you should ask me,” said Honey with mysterious importance, “there’s only one person she cares about. And that’s Ashley!”
Scarlett felt herself go cold with fear and humiliation. Honey was a fool, a silly, but she had a feminine instinct about other women that Scarlett had underestimated.
Melanie’s voice, peaceful and a little reproving, rose above the others.
“Honey, you know that isn’t so. And it’s so unkind.”
“It is true, Melly, and if you weren’t always looking for the good in people that haven’t got any good in them, you’d see it. And I’m glad it’s so. It serves her right[24]. All Scarlett O’Hara has ever done has been to make trouble and try to get other girls’ beaux.”
“I must get home!” thought Scarlett. “I must get home!”
If she could only be transferred by magic to Tara and to safety. If she could only be with Ellen, just to see her, to hold onto her skirt, to cry and pour out the whole story.
Home, she thought, as she sped down the hall, I must go home.
She was already on the front porch when a new thought came – she couldn’t go home! To run away would only give them more evidence.
She pounded her clenched fist against the tall white pillar beside her. She’d make them sorry. She’d show them. She didn’t quite see how she’d show them, but she’d do it all the same. She’d hurt them worse than they hurt her.
For the moment, Ashley was forgotten. Vanity was stronger than love at sixteen and there was no room in her hot heart now for anything but hate.
“I won’t go home,” she thought. “I’ll stay here and I’ll make them sorry. And I’ll never tell Mother. No, I’ll never tell anybody.”
As she turned, she saw Charles coming into the house from the other end of the long hall. When he saw her, he hurried toward her. His face was red with excitement.
“Do you know what’s happened?” he cried, even before he reached her. “Have you heard?”
He paused, breathless, as he came up to her. She said nothing and only stared at him.
“Mr. Lincoln has called for men, soldiers – I mean volunteers – seventy-five thousand of them!”
Mr. Lincoln again! Didn’t men ever think about anything that really mattered? Here was this fool expecting her to be excited about Mr. Lincoln’s didoes when her heart was broken and her reputation almost ruined.
Charles stared at her. Her face was paper white and her narrow eyes blazing like emeralds.
“I’m so clumsy,” he said. “I should have told you more gently. I’m sorry I’ve upset you so. You don’t feel faint, do you? Can I get you a glass of water?”
“No,” she said, and managed a crooked smile.
“Shall we go sit on the bench?” he asked, taking her arm.
She nodded and he carefully led her across the grass to the iron bench beneath the largest oak in the front yard. How fragile and tender women are, he thought, the mere mention of war makes them faint. The idea made him feel very masculine.
“He has a lot of money,” she was thinking fast. “And he hasn’t any parents to bother me and he lives in Atlanta. And if I married him right away, it would show Ashley that I didn’t care – that I was only flirting with him. And it would just kill Honey. She’d never, never catch another beau. And it would hurt Melanie, because she loves Charles so much. “And they’d all be sorry when I came back here to visit in a fine carriage and with lots of pretty clothes and a house of my own. And they would never, never laugh at me.”
“Of course, it will mean fighting,” said Charles. “But don’t you worry, Miss Scarlett, it’ll be over in a month. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I’m afraid there won’t be much of a ball tonight, because the Troop is going to meet at Jonesboro. The Tarleton boys have gone to spread the news. I know the ladies will be sorry.”
Coolness was beginning to come back to her. Why not take this pretty boy? He was as good as anyone else and she didn’t care.
“Will you wait for me, Miss Scarlett? It – it would be Heaven just knowing that you were waiting for me until after we licked them!” He hung breathless on her words. Her hand slid into his.
“I wouldn’t want to wait,” she said.
He sat clutching her hand, his mouth wide open. Watching him from under her lashes, Scarlett thought that he looked like a frog. He stuttered several times, closed his mouth and opened it again, and again became red in the face.
“Can you possibly love me?”
She said nothing but looked down into her lap, and Charles was embarrassed. Perhaps a man should not ask a girl such a question. Perhaps it would be hard for her to answer it. Charles was at a loss as to how to act. He wanted to shout and to sing and to kiss her and then run tell everyone, black and white, that she loved him. But he only squeezed her hand until he drove her rings into the flesh.
“You will marry me soon, Miss Scarlett?”
“Um,” she said, fingering a fold of her dress.
“Shall we make it a double wedding with Mel —”
“No,” she said quickly. Charles knew again that he had made an error. Of course, a girl wanted her own wedding – not shared glory.
“When may I speak to your father?”
“The sooner the better,” she said.
He leaped up and for a moment she thought he was going to cut a caper[25]. He looked down at her radiantly, his clean simple heart in his eyes. She had never had anyone look at her thus before and would never have it from any other man, but she only thought that he looked like a calf.
“I’ll go now and find your father,” he said, smiling all over his face. “I can’t wait. Will you excuse me – dear?” The word came hard but having said it once, he repeated it again with pleasure.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll wait here. It’s so cool and nice here.”
He went off across the lawn and disappeared around the house, and she was alone under the rustling oak. From the stables, men were streaming out on horseback, negro servants riding hard behind their masters.
The white house with its tall columns stood before her. It would never be her