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The smoke curled slowly to the ceiling and the red streams widened about her feet。 For a timeless moment she stood there and in the still hot hush of the summer morning every irrelevant sound and scent seemed magnified； the quick thudding of her heart； like； a drumbeat； the slight rough rustling of the magnolia leaves； the far…off plaintive sound of a swamp bird and the sweet smell of the flowers outside the window。
She had killed a man； she who took care never to be in at the kill on a hunt； she who could not bear the squealing of a hog at slaughter or the squeak of a rabbit in a snare。 Murder！ she thought dully。 I’ve done murder。 Oh； this can’t be happening to me！ Her eyes went to the stubby hairy hand on the floor so close to the sewing box and suddenly she was vitally alive again； vitally glad with a cool tigerish joy。 She could have ground her heel into the gaping wound which had been his nose and taken sweet pleasure in the feel of his warm blood on her bare feet。 She had struck a blow of revenge for Tara—and for Ellen。
There were hurried stumbling steps in the upper hall； a pause and then more steps； weak dragging steps now； punctuated by metallic clankings。 A sense of time and reality coming back to her； Scarlett looked up and saw Melanie at the top of the stairs； clad only in the ragged chemise which served her as a nightgown； her weak arm weighed down with Charles’ saber。 Melanie’s eyes took in the scene below in its entirety； the sprawling blue…clad body in the red pool； the sewing box beside him； Scarlett； barefooted and gray…faced； clutching the long pistol。
In silence her eyes met Scarlett’s。 There was a glow of grim pride in her usually gentle face； approbation and a fierce joy in her smile that equaled the fiery tumult in Scarlett’s own bosom。
“Why—why—she’s like me！ She understands how I feel！” thought Scarlett in that long moment “She’d have done the same thing！”
With a thrill she looked up at the frail swaying girl for whom she had never had any feelings but of dislike and contempt。 Now； straggling against hatred for Ashley’s wife； there surged a feeling of admiration and comradeship。 She saw in a flash of clarity untouched by any petty emotion that beneath the gentle voice and the dovelike eyes of Melanie there was a thin flashing blade of unbreakable steel； felt too that there were banners and bugles of courage in Melanie’s quiet blood。
“Scarlett！ Scarlett！” shrilled the weak frightened voices of Suellen and Carreen； muffled by their closed door； and Wade’s voice screamed “Auntee！ Auntee！” Swiftly Melanie put her finger to her lips and； laying the sword on the top step； she painfully made her way down the upstairs hall and opened the door of the sick room。
“Don’t be scared； chickens！” came her voice with teasing gaiety。 “Your big sister was trying to clean the rust off Charles’ pistol and it went off and nearly scared her to death！” 。。。 “Now； Wade Hampton； Mama just shot off your dear Papa’s pistol！ When you are bigger； she will let you shoot it。”
“What a cool liar！” thought Scarlett with admiration。 “I couldn’t have thought that quickly。 But why lie？ They’ve got to know I’ve done it。”
She looked down at the body again and now revulsion came over her as her rage and fright melted away； and her knees began to quiver with the reaction。 Melanie dragged herself to the top step again and started down； holding onto the banisters； her pale lower lip caught between her teeth。
“Go back to bed； silly； you’ll kill yourself！” Scarlett cried； but the half…naked Melanie made her painful way down into the lower hall。
“Scarlett；” she whispered； “we must get him out of here and bury him。 He may not be alone and if they find him here—” She steadied herself on Scarlett’s arm。
“He must be alone；” said Scarlett。 “I didn’t see anyone else from the upstairs window。 He must be a deserter。”
“Even if he is alone； no one must know about it。 The negroes might talk and then they’d come and get you。 Scarlett； we must get him hidden before the folks come back from the swamp。”
Her mind prodded to action by the feverish urgency of Melanie’s voice； Scarlett thought hard。
“I could bury him in the corner of the garden under the arbor—the ground is soft there where Pork dug up the whisky barrel。 But how will I get him there？”
“We’ll both take a leg and drag him；” said Melanie firmly。
Reluctantly； Scarlett’s admiration went still higher。
“You couldn’t drag a cat。 I’ll drag him；” she said roughly。 “You go back to bed。 You’ll kill yourself。 Don’t dare try to help me either or I’ll carry you upstairs myself。”
Melanie’s white face broke into a sweet understanding smile。 “You are very dear； Scarlett；” she said and softly brushed her lips against Scarlett’s cheek。 Before Scarlett could recover from her surprise； Melanie went on： “If you can drag him out； I’ll mop up the—the mess before the folks get home； and Scarlett—”
“Yes？”
“Do you suppose it would be dishonest to go through his knapsack？ He might have something to eat。”
“I do not；” said Scarlett； annoyed that she had not thought of this herself。 “You take the knapsack and I’ll go through his pockets。”
Stooping over the dead man with distaste； she unbuttoned the remaining buttons of his jacket and systematically began rifling his pockets。
“Dear God；” she whispered； pulling out a bulging wallet； wrapped about with a rag。 “Melanie—Melly； I think it’s full of money！”
Melanie said nothing but abruptly sat down on the floor and leaned back against the wall。
“You look；” she said shakily。 I’m feeling a little weak。”
Scarlett tore off the rag and with trembling hands opened the leather folds。
“Look； Melly—just look！”
Melanie looked and her eyes dilated。 Jumbled together was a mass of bills； United States greenbacks mingling with Confederate money and； glinting from between them； were one ten…dollar gold piece and two five…dollar gold pieces。
“Don’t stop to count it now；” said Melanie as Scarlett began fingering the bills。 “We haven’t time—”
“Do you realize； Melanie； that this money means that we’ll eat？”
“Yes； yes； dear。 I know but we haven’t time now。 You look in his other pockets and I’ll take the knapsack。”
Scarlett was loath to put down the wallet。 Bright vistas opened before her—real money； the Yankee’s horse； food！ There was a God after all； and He did provide； even if He did take very odd ways of providing。 She sat on her haunches and stared at the wallet smiling。 Food！ Melanie plucked it from her hands—
“Hurry！” she said。
The trouser pockets yielded nothing except a candle end； a jackknife； a plug of tobacco and a bit of twine。 Melanie removed from the knapsack a small package of coffee which she sniffed as if it were the sweetest of perfumes； hardtack and； her face changing； a miniature of a little girl in a gold frame set with seed pearls； a garnet brooch； two broad gold bracelets with tiny dangling gold chains； a gold thimble； a small silver baby’s cup； gold embroidery scissors； a diamond solitaire ring and a pair of earrings with pendant pear…shaped diamonds； which even their unpracticed eyes could tell were well over a carat each。
“A thief！” whispered Melanie； recoiling from the still body。 “Scarlett； he must have stolen all of this！”
“Of course；” said Scarlett。 “And he came here hoping to steal more from us。”
“I’m glad you killed him；” said Melanie her gentle eyes hard。 “Now hurry； darling； and get him out of here。”
Scarlett bent over； caught the dead man by his boots and tugged。 How heavy he was and how weak she suddenly felt。 Suppose she shouldn’t be able to move him？ Turning so that she backed the corpse； she caught a heavy boot under each arm and threw her weight forward。 He moved and she jerked again。 Her sore foot； forgotten in the excitement； now gave a tremendous throb that made her grit her teeth and shift her weight to the heel。 Tugging and straining； perspiration dripping from her forehead； she dragged him down the hall； a red stain following her path。
“If he bleeds across the yard； we can’t hide it；” she gasped。 “Give me your sh