按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
His eyes sparkled wickedly。
“That sounds very sweet and feminine； Mrs。 Kennedy。 Not in your usual masterful vein at all。 Well； it only takes proper handling to make a clinging vine out of you。”
She scowled and her temper came back。
“You will get out of this buggy this time； or I will hit you with the whip。 I don’t know why I put up with you—why I try to be nice to you。 You have no manners。 You have no morals。 You are nothing but a— Well； get out I mean it。”
But when he had climbed down and untied his horse from the back of the buggy and stood in the twilight road； grinning tantalizingly at her； she could not smother her own grin as she drove off。
Yes； he was coarse； he was tricky； he was unsafe to have dealings with； and you never could tell when the dull weapon you put into his hands in an unguarded moment might turn into the keenest of blades。 But； after all； he was as stimulating as—well； as a surreptitious glass of brandy！
During these months Scarlett had learned the use of brandy。 When she came home in the late afternoons； damp from the rain； cramped and aching from long hours in the buggy； nothing sustained her except the thought of the bottle hidden in her top bureau drawer； locked against Mammy’s prying eyes。 Dr。 Meade had not thought to warn her that a woman in her condition should not drink； for it never occurred to him that a decent woman would drink anything stronger than scuppernong wine。 Except； of course； a glass of champagne at a wedding or a hot toddy when confined to bed with a hard cold。 Of course； there were unfortunate women who drank； to the eternal disgrace of their families； just as there were women who were insane or divorced or who believed； with Miss Susan B。 Anthony； that women should have the vote。 But as much as the doctor disapproved of Scarlett； he never suspected her of drinking。
Scarlett had found that a drink of neat brandy before supper helped immeasurably and she would always chew coffee or gargle cologne to disguise the smell。 Why were people so silly about women drinking； when men could and did get reeling drunk whenever they wanted to？ Sometimes when Frank lay snoring beside her and sleep would not come； when she lay tossing； torn with fears of poverty； dreading the Yankees； homesick for Tara and yearning for Ashley； she thought she would go crazy were it not for the brandy bottle。 And when the pleasant familiar warmth stole through her veins； her troubles began to fade。 After three drinks； she could always say to herself： “I’ll think of these things tomorrow when I can stand them better。”
But there were some nights when even brandy would not still the ache in her heart； the ache that was even stronger than fear of losing the mills； the ache to see Tara again。 Atlanta； with its noises； its new buildings； its strange faces； its narrow streets crowded with horses and wagons and bustling crowds sometimes seemed to stifle her。 She loved Atlanta but—oh； for the sweet peace and country quiet of Tara； the red fields and the dark pines about it！ Oh； to be back at Tara； no matter how hard the life might be！ And to be near Ashley； just to see him； to hear him speak； to be sustained by the knowledge of his love！ Each letter from Melanie； saying that they were well； each brief note from Will reporting about the plowing； the planting； the growing of the cotton made her long anew to be home again。
I’ll go home in June。 I can’t do anything here after that。 I’ll go home for a couple of months； she thought； and her heart would rise。 She did go home in June but not as she longed to go； for early in that month came a brief message from Will that Gerald was dead。
CHAPTER XXXIX
THE TRAIN was very late and the long； deeply blue twilight of June was settling over the countryside when Scarlett alighted in Jonesboro。 Yellow gleams of lamplight showed in the stores and houses which remained in the village； but they were few。 Here and there were wide gaps between the buildings on the main street where dwellings had been shelled or burned。 Ruined houses with shell holes in their roofs and half the walls torn away stared at her； silent and dark。 A few saddle horses and mule teams were hitched outside the wooden awning of Bullard’s store。 The dusty red road was empty and lifeless； and the only sounds in the village were a few whoops and drunken laughs that floated on the still twilight air from a saloon far down the street。
The depot had not been rebuilt since it was burned in the battle and in its place was only a wooden shelter； with no sides to keep out the weather。 Scarlett walked under it and sat down on one of the empty kegs that were evidently put there for seats。 She peered up and down the street for Will Benteen。 Will should have been here to meet her。 He should have known she would take the first tram possible after receiving his laconic message that Gerald was dead。
She had come so hurriedly that she had in her small carpetbag only a nightgown and a tooth brush； not even a change of underwear。 She was uncomfortable in the tight black dress she had borrowed from Mrs。 Meade； for she had had no time to get mourning clothes for herself。 Mrs。 Meade was thin now； and Scarlett’s pregnancy being advanced； the dress was doubly uncomfortable。 Even in her sorrow at Gerald’s death； she did not forget the appearance she was making and she looked down at her body with distaste。 Her figure was completely gone and her face and ankles were puffy。 Heretofore she had not cared very much how she looked but now that she would see Ashley within the hour she cared greatly。 Even in her heartbreak； she shrank from the thought of facing him when she was carrying another man’s child。 She loved him and he loved her； and this unwanted child now seemed to her a proof of infidelity to that love。 But much as she disliked having him see her with the slenderness gone from her waist and the lightness from her step； it was something she could not escape now。
She patted her foot impatiently。 Will should have met her。 Of course； she could go over to Bullard’s and inquire after him or ask someone there to drive her over to Tara； should she find he had been unable to come。 But she did not want to go to Bullard’s。 It was Saturday night and probably half the men of the County would be there。 She did not want to display her condition in this poorly fitting black dress which accentuated rather than hid her figure。 And she did not want to hear the kindly sympathy that would be poured out about Gerald。 She did not want sympathy。 She was afraid she would cry if anyone even mentioned his name to her。 And she wouldn’t cry。 She knew if she once began it would be like the time she cried into the horse’s mane； that dreadful night when Atlanta fell and Rhett had left her on the dark road outside the town； terrible tears that tore her heart and could not be stopped。
No； she wouldn’t cry！ She felt the lump in her throat rising again； as it had done so often since the news came； but crying wouldn’t do any good。 It would only confuse and weaken her。 Why； oh； why hadn’t Will or Melanie or the girls written her that Gerald was ailing？ She would have taken the first train to Tara to care for him； brought a doctor from Atlanta if necessary。 The fools—all of them！ Couldn’t they manage anything without her？ She couldn’t be in two places at once and the good Lord knew she was doing her best for them all in Atlanta。
She twisted about on the keg； becoming nervous and fidgety as Will still did not come。 Where was he？ Then she heard the scrunching of cinders on the railroad tracks behind her and； twisting her body； she saw Alex Fontaine crossing the tracks toward a wagon； a sack of oats on his shoulder。
“Good Lord！ Isn’t that you； Scarlett？” he cried； dropping the sack and running to take her hand； pleasure written all over his bitter； swarthy little face。 “I’m so glad to see you。 I saw Will over at the blacksmith’s shop； getting the horse shod。 The train was late and he thought he’d have time。 Shall I run fetch him？”
“Yes； please； Alex；” she said； smiling in spite of her sorrow。 It was good to see a County face again。
“Oh—er—Scarlett；” he began awkwardly； still holding her h