飘-第125章

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arried　in　the　spring。　So　the　tumult　of　gossip；　surmise　and　deep　suspicion　which　followed　the　announcement　of　his　quiet　wedding　to　Scarlett　was　not　surprising。　Mrs。　Merriwether；　who　never　let　her　curiosity　go　long　unsatisfied　if　she　could　help　it；　asked　him　point…blank　just　what　he　meant　by　marrying　one　sister　when　he　was　betrothed　to　the　other。　She　reported　to　Mrs。　Elsing　that　all　the　answer　she　got　for　her　pains　was　a　silly　look。　Not　even　Mrs。　Merriwether；　doughty　soul　that　she　was；　dared　to　approach　Scarlett　on　the　subject。　Scarlett　seemed　demure　and　sweet　enough　these　days；　but　there　was　a　pleased　complacency　in　her　eyes　which　annoyed　people　and　she　carried　a　chip　on　her　shoulder　which　no　one　cared　to　disturb。
　She　knew　Atlanta　was　talking　but　she　did　not　care。　After　all；　there　wasn’t　anything　immoral　in　marrying　a　man。　Tare　was　safe。　Let　people　talk。　She　had　too　many　other　matters　to　occupy　her　mind。　The　most　important　was　how　to　make　Frank　realize；　in　a　tactful　manner；　that　his　store　should　bring　in　more　money。　After　the　fright　Jonas　Wilkerson　had　given　her；　she　would　never　rest　easy　until　she　and　Frank　had　some　money　ahead。　And　even　if　no　emergency　developed；　Frank　would　need　to　make　more　money；　if　she　was　going　to　save　enough　for　next　year’s　taxes。　Moreover；　what　Frank　had　said　about　the　sawmill　stuck　in　her　mind。　Frank　could　make　lots　of　money　out　of　a　mill。　Anybody　could；　with　lumber　selling　at　such　outrageous　prices。　She　fretted　silently　because　Frank’s　money　had　not　been　enough　to　pay　the　taxes　on　Tara　and　buy　the　mill　as　well。　And　she　made　up　her　mind　that　he　had　to　make　more　money　on　the　store　somehow；　and　do　it　quickly；　so　he　could　buy　that　mill　before　some　one　else　snapped　it　up。　She　could　see　it　was　a　bargain。
　If　she　were　a　man　she　would　have　that　mill；　if　she　had　to　mortgage　the　store　to　raise　the　money。　But；　when　she　intimated　this　delicately　to　Frank；　the　day　after　they　married；　he　smiled　and　told　her　not　to　bother　her　sweet　pretty　little　head　about　business　matters。　It　had　come　as　a　surprise　to　him　that　she　even　knew　what　a　mortgage　was　and；　at　first；　he　was　amused。　But　this　amusement　quickly　passed　and　a　sense　of　shock　took　its　place　in　the　early　days　of　their　marriage。　Once；　incautiously；　he　had　told　her　that　“people”　（he　was　careful　not　to　mention　names）　owed　him　money　but　could　not　pay　just　now　and　he　was；　of　course；　unwilling　to　press　old　friends　and　gentlefolk。　Frank　regretted　ever　mentioning　it　for；　thereafter；　she　had　questioned　him　about　it　again　and　again。　She　had　the　most　charmingly　childlike　air　but　she　was　just　curious；　she　said；　to　know　who　owed　him　and　how　much　they　owed。　Frank　was　very　evasive　about　the　matter。　He　coughed　nervously　and　waved　his　hands　and　repeated　his　annoying　remark　about　her　sweet　pretty　little　head。
　It　had　begun　to　dawn　on　him　that　this　same　sweet　pretty　little　head　was　a　“good　head　for　figures。”　In　fact；　a　much　better　one　than　his　own　and　the　knowledge　was　disquieting。　He　was　thunderstruck　to　discover　that　she　could　swiftly　add　a　long　column　of　figures　in　her　head　when　he　needed　a　pencil　and　paper　for　more　than　three　figures。　And　fractions　presented　no　difficulties　to　her　at　all。　He　felt　there　was　something　unbecoming　about　a　woman　understanding　fractions　and　business　matters　and　he　believed　that；　should　a　woman　be　so　unfortunate　as　to　have　such　unladylike　comprehension；　she　should　pretend　not　to。　Now　he　disliked　talking　business　with　her　as　much　as　be　had　enjoyed　it　before　they　were　married。　Then　he　had　thought　it　all　beyond　her　mental　grasp　and　it　had　been　pleasant　to　explain　things　to　her。　Now　he　saw　that　she　understood　entirely　too　well　and　he　felt　the　usual　masculine　indignation　at　the　duplicity　of　women。　Added　to　it　was　the　usual　masculine　disillusionment　in　discovering　that　a　woman　has　a　brain。
　Just　how　early　in　his　married　life　Frank　learned　of　the　deception　Scarlett　had　used　in　marrying　him；　no　one　ever　knew。　Perhaps　the　truth　dawned　on　him　when　Tony　Fontaine；　obviously　fancy　free；　came　to　Atlanta　on　business。　Perhaps　it　was　told　him　more　directly　in　letters　from　his　sister　in　Jonesboro　who　was　astounded　at　his　marriage。　Certainly　he　never　learned　from　Suellen　herself。　She　never　wrote　him　and　naturally　he　could　not　write　her　and　explain。　What　good　would　explanations　do　anyway；　now　that　he　was　married？　He　writhed　inwardly　at　the　thought　that　Suellen　would　never　know　the　truth　and　would　always　think　he　had　senselessly　jilted　her。　Probably　everyone　else　was　thinking　this　too　and　criticizing　him。　It　certainly　put　him　in　an　awkward　position。　And　he　had　no　way　of　clearing　himself；　for　a　man　couldn’t　go　about　saying　he　had　lost　his　head　about　a　woman—and　a　gentleman　couldn’t　advertise　the　fact　that　his　wife　had　entrapped　him　with　a　lie。
　Scarlett　was　his　wife　and　a　wife　was　entitled　to　the　loyalty　of　her　husband。　Furthermore；　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　believe　she　had　married　him　coldly　and　with　no　affection　for　him　at　all。　His　masculine　vanity　would　not　permit　such　a　thought　to　stay　long　in　his　mind。　It　was　more　pleasant　to　think　she　had　fallen　so　suddenly　in　love　with　him　she　had　been　willing　to　lie　to　get　him。　But　it　was　all　very　puzzling。　He　knew　he　was　no　great　catch　for　a　woman　half　his　age　and　pretty　and　smart　to　boot；　but　Frank　was　a　gentleman　and　he　kept　his　bewilderment　to　himself。　Scarlett　was　his　wife　and　he　could　not　insult　her　by　asking　awkward　questions　which；　after　all；　would　not　remedy　matters。
　Not　that　Frank　especially　wanted　to　remedy　matters；　for　it　appeared　that　his　marriage　would　be　a　happy　one。　Scarlett　was　the　most　charming　and　exciting　of　women　and　he　thought　her　perfect　in　all　things—except　that　she　was　so　headstrong。　Frank　learned　early　in　his　marriage　that　so　long　as　she　had　her　own　way；　life　could　be　very　pleasant；　but　when　she　was　opposed—　Given　her　own　way；　she　was　as　gay　as　a　child；　laughed　a　good　deal；　made　foolish　little　jokes；　sat　on　his　knee　and　tweaked　his　beard　until　he　vowed　he　felt　twenty　years　younger。　She　could　be　unexpectedly　sweet　and　thoughtful；　having　his　slippers　toasting　at　the　fire　when　he　came　home　at　night；　fussing　affectionately　about　his　wet　feet　and　interminable　head　colds；　remembering　that　he　always　liked　the　gizzard　of　the　chicken　and　three　spoonfuls　of　sugar　in　his　coffee。　Yes；　life　was　very　sweet　and　cozy　with　Scarlett—as　long　as　she　had　her　own　way。
　
　When　the　marriage　was　two　weeks　old；　Frank　contracted　the　grippe　and　Dr。　Meade　put　him　to　bed。　In　the　first　year　of　the　war；　Frank　had　spent　two　months　in　the　hospital　with　pneumonia　and　he　had　lived　in　dread　of　another　attack　since　that　time；　so　he　was　only　too　glad　to　lie　sweating　under　three　blankets　and　drink　the　hot　concoctions　Mammy　and　Aunt　Pitty　brought　him　every　hour。
　The　illness　dragged　on　and　Frank　worried　more　and　more　about　the　store　as　each　day　passed。　The　place　was　in　charge　of　the　counter　boy；　who　came　to　the　house　every　night　to　report　on　the　day’s　transactions；　but　Frank　was　not　satisfied。　He　fretted　until　Scarlett　who　had　only　been　waiting　for　such　an　opportunity　laid　a　cool　hand　on　his　forehead　and　said：　“Now；　sweetheart；　I　shall　be　vexed　if　you　take　on　so。　I’ll　go　to　town　and　see　how　things　are。”
　And　she　went；　smiling　as　she　smothered　his　feeble　protests。　During　the　three　weeks　of　her　new　marriage；　she　had　been　in　a　fever　to　see　his　account　books　and　find　out　just　how　money　matters　stood。　What　luck　that　he　was　bedridden！
　The　store　stood　near　Five　Points；　its　new　roof　glaring　against　the　smoked　bricks　of　the　old　walls。　Wooden　awnings　covered　the　sidewalk　to　the　edge　of　the　street；　and　at　the　long　iron　bars　connecting　the　uprights　horses　and　mules　were　hitched；　their　heads　bowed　against　the　cold　misty　rain；　their　backs　covered　with　torn　blankets　and　quilts。　The　inside　of　the　store　was　almost　like　Bullard’s　store　in　Jonesboro；　except　that　there　were　no　loungers　about　the　roaring　red…hot　stove；　whittling　and　spitting　streams　of　tobacco　juice　at　the　sand　boxes。　It　was　bigger　than　Bullard’s　store　and　much　darker。　The　wooden　awnings　cut　off　most　of　the　winter　daylight　and　the　interior　was　dim　and　dingy；　only　a　trickle　of　light　coming　in　through　the　small　fly…specked　windows　high　up　on　the　side　walls。　The　floor　was　covered　with　muddy　sawdust　and　everywhere　was　dust　and　dirt。　There　was　a　semblance　of　order　in　the　front　of　the　store；　where　tall　shelves　rose　into　the　gloom　stacked　with　bright　bolts　of　cloth；　china；　cooking　utensils　and　notions。　But　in　the　back；　behind　the　partition；　chaos　reigned。
　Here　there　was　no　flooring　and　the　assorted　jumble　of　stock　was　piled　helter…skelter　on　the　hard…packed　earth。　In　the　semi…darkness　she　saw　boxes　and　bales　of　goods；　plows　and　harness　and　saddles　and　cheap　pine　coffins。　Secondhand　furniture；　ranging　from　cheap　gum　to　mahogany　and　rosewood；　reared　up　in　the　gloom；　and　the　rich　but　worn　brocade　and　horsehair　upholstery　gleamed　incongruously　in　the　dingy　surroundings。　China　chambers　and　bowl　and　pitcher　sets　littered　the　floor　and　all　around　the　four　walls　were　deep　bins；　so　dark　she　had　to　hold　the　lamp　directly　over　them　to　discover　they　contained　seeds；　nails；　bolts　and　carpenters’　tools。
　“I’d　think　a　man　as　fussy　and　old　maidish　as　Frank　would　keep　things　tidier；”　she　thought；　scrubbing　her　grimy　hands　with　her　handkerchief。　“This　place　is　a　pig　pen。　What　a　way　to　run　a　store！　If　he’d　only　dust　up　this　stuff　and　put　it　out　in　front　where　folks　could　see　it；　he　could　sell　things　much　quicker。”
　And　if　his　stock　was　in　such　condition；　what　mustn’t　his　accounts　be！
　I’ll　look　at　his　account　book　now；　she　thought　and；　picking　up　the　lamp；　she　went　into　the　front　of　the　store。　Willie；　the　counter　boy；　was　reluctant　to　give　her　the　large　dirty…backed　ledger。　It　was　obvious　that；　young　as　he　was；　he　shared　Frank’s　opinion　that　women　had　no　place　in　business。　But　Scarlett　silenced　him　with　a　sharp　word　and　sent　him　out　to　get　his　dinner。　She　felt　better　when　he　was　gone；　for　his　disapproval　annoyed　her；　and　she　settled　herself　in　a　split…bottomed　chair　by　the　roaring　stove；　tucked　one　foot　under　her　and　spread　the　book　across　her　lap。　It　was　dinner　time　and　the　streets　were　deserted。　No　customers　called　and　she　had　the　store　to　herself。
　She　turned　the　pages　slowly；　narrowly　scanning　the　rows　of　names　and　figures　written　in　Frank’s　cramped　copperplate　hand。　It　was　just　as　she　had　expected；　and　she　frowned　as　she　saw　this　newest　evidence　of　Frank’s　lack　of　business　sense。　At　least　five　hundred　dollars　in　debts；　some　of　them　months　old；　were　set　down　against　the　names　of　people　she　knew　well；　the　Merriwethers　and　the　Elsings　among　other　familiar　names。　From　Frank’s　deprecatory　remarks　about　the　money　“people”　owed　him；　she　had　imagined　the　sums　to　be　small。　But　this！
　“If　they　can’t　pay；　why　do　they　keep　on　buying？”　she　thought　irritably。　“And　if　he　knows　they　can’t　pay；　why　does　he　keep　on　selling　them　stuff？　Lots　of　them　could　pay　if　he’d　just　make　them　do　it。　The　Elsings　certainly　could　if　they　could　give　Fanny　a　new　satin　dress　and　an　expensive　wedding。　Frank’s　just　too　soft　hearted；　and　people　take　advantage　of　him。　Why；　if　he’d　collected　half　this　money；　he　could　have　bought　the　sawmill　and　easily　spared　me　the　tax　money；　too。”
　Then　she　thoug