飘-第167章

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　excuse　me　now；　I　will　try　to　get　some　sleep。”
　“Well；　go　to　sleep　then；”　she　answered；　disappointment　in　her　tones。　Then　as　the　doctor　leaned　over　to　remove　his　boots；　her　voice　spoke　from　the　darkness　with　renewed　cheerfulness。　“I　imagine　Dolly　has　gotten　it　all　out　of　old　man　Merriwether　and　she　can　tell　me　about　it。”
　“Good　Heavens；　Mrs。　Meade！　Do　you　mean　to　tell　me　that　nice　women　talk　about　such　things　among　them—”
　“Oh；　go　to　bed；”　said　Mrs。　Meade。
　
　It　sleeted　the　next　day；　but　as　the　wintry　twilight　drew　on　the　icy　particles　stopped　falling　and　a　cold　wind　blew。　Wrapped　in　her　cloak；　Melanie　went　bewilderedly　down　her　front　walk　behind　a　strange　negro　coachman；　who　had　summoned　her　mysteriously　to　a　closed　carriage　waiting　in　front　of　the　house。　As　she　came　up　to　the　carriage　the　door　was　opened　and　she　saw　a　woman　in　the　dim　ulterior。
　Leaning　closer；　peering　inside；　Melanie　questioned：　“Who　is　it？　Won’t　you　come　in　the　house？　It’s　so　cold—”
　“Please　come　in　here　and　set　with　me　a　minute；　Miz　Wilkes；”　came　a　faintly　familiar　voice；　an　embarrassed　voice　from　the　depths　of　the　carriage。
　“Oh；　you’re　Miss—Mrs。—Watling！”　cried　Melanie。　“I　did　so　want　to　see　you！　You　must　come　in　the　house。”
　“I　can’t　do　that；　Miz　Wilkes。”　Belle　Watling’s　voice　sounded　scandalized。　“You　come　in　here　and　set　a　minute　with　me。”
　Melanie　entered　the　carriage　and　the　coachman　closed　the　door　behind　her。　She　sat　down　beside　Belle　and　reached　for　her　hand。
　“How　can　I　ever　thank　you　enough　for　what　you　did　today！　How　can　any　of　us　thank　you　enough！”
　“Miz　Wilkes；　you　hadn’t　ought　of　sent　me　that　note　this　mornin’。　Not　that　I　wasn’t　proud　to　have　a　note　from　you　but　the　Yankees　might　of　got　it。　And　as　for　sayin’　you　was　goin’　to　call　on　me　to　thank　me—why；　Miz　Wilkes；　you　must　of　lost　your　mind！　The　very　idea！　I　come　up　here　as　soon　as　‘twas　dark　to　tell　you　you　mustn’t　think　of　any　sech　thing。　Why；　I—why；　you—it　wouldn’t　be　fittin’　at　all。”
　“It　wouldn’t　be　fitting　for　me　to　call　and　thank　a　kind　woman　who　saved　my　husband’s　life？”
　“Oh；　shucks；　Miz　Wilkes！　You　know　what　I　mean！”
　Melanie　was　silent　for　a　moment；　embarrassed　by　the　implication。　Somehow　this　handsome；　sedately　dressed　woman　sitting　in　the　darkness　of　the　carriage　didn’t　look　and　talk　as　she　imagined　a　bad　woman；　the　Madam　of　a　House；　should　look　and　talk。　She　sounded　like—well；　a　little　common　and　countrified　but　nice　and　warm　hearted。
　“You　were　wonderful　before　the　provost　marshal　today；　Mrs。　Watling！　You　and　the　other—your—the　young　ladies　certainly　saved　our　men’s　lives。”
　“Mr。　Wilkes　was　the　wonderful　one。　I　don’t　know　how　he　even　stood　up　and　told　his　story；　much　less　look　as　cool　as　he　done。　He　was　sure　bleedin’　like　a　pig　when　I　seen　him　last　night。　Is　he　goin’　to　be　all　right；　Miz　Wilkes？”
　“Yes；　thank　you。　The　doctor　says　it’s　just　a　flesh　wound；　though　he　did　lose　a　tremendous　lot　of　blood。　This　morning　he　was—well；　he　was　pretty　well　laced　with　brandy　or　he’d　never　have　had　the　strength　to　go　through　with　it　all　so　well。　But　it　was　you；　Mrs。　Watling；　who　saved　them。　When　you　got　mad　and　talked　about　the　broken　mirrors　you　sounded　so—so　convincing。”
　“Thank　you；　Ma’m。　But　I—I　thought　Captain　Butler　done　mighty　fine　too；”　said　Belle；　shy　pride　in　her　voice。
　“Oh；　he　was　wonderful！”　cried　Melanie　warmly。　“The　Yankees　couldn’t　help　but　believe　his　testimony。　He　was　so　smart　about　the　whole　affair。　I　can　never　thank　him　enough—or　you　either！　How　good　and　kind　you　are！”
　“Thank　you　kindly；　Miz　Wilkes。　It　was　a　pleasure　to　do　it　I—I　hope　it　ain’t　goin’　to　embarrass　you　none；　me　sayin’　Mr。　Wilkes　come　regular　to　my　place。　He　never；　you　know—”
　“Yes；　I　know。　No；　it　doesn’t　embarrass　me　at　all。　I’m　just　so　grateful　to　you。”
　“I’ll　bet　the　other　ladies　ain’t　grateful　to　me；”　said　Belle　with　sudden　venom。　“And　I’ll　bet　they　ain’t　grateful　to　Captain　Butler　neither。　I’ll　bet　they’ll　hate　him　just　this　much　more。　I’ll　bet　you’ll　be　the　only　lady　who　even　says　thanks　to　me。　I’ll　bet　they　won’t　even　look　me　in　the　eye　when　they　see　me　on　the　street。　But　I　don’t　care。　I　wouldn’t　of　minded　if　all　their　husbands　got　hung；　But　I　did　mind　about　Mr。　Wilkes。　You　see　I　ain’t　forgot　how　nice　you　was　to　me　durin’　the　war；　about　the　money　for　the　hospital。　There　ain’t　never　been　a　lady　in　this　town　nice　to　me　like　you　was　and　I　don’t　forget　a　kindness。　And　I　thought　about　you　bein’　left　a　widder　with　a　little　boy　if　Mr。　Wilkes　got　hung　and—he’s　a　nice　little　boy；　your　boy　is；　Miz　Wilkes。　I　got　a　boy　myself　and　so　I—”
　“Oh；　you　have？　Does　he　live—er—”
　“Oh；　no’m！　He　ain’t　here　in　Atlanta。　He　ain’t　never　been　here。　He’s　off　at　school。　I　ain’t　seen　him　since　he　was　little。　I—well；　anyway；　when　Captain　Butler　wanted　me　to　lie　for　those　men　I　wanted　to　know　who　the　men　was　and　when　I　heard　Mr。　Wilkes　was　one　I　never　hesitated。　I　said　to　my　girls；　I　said；　‘I’ll　whale　the　livin’　daylights　out　of　you　all　if　you　don’t　make　a　special　point　of　sayin’　you　was　with　Mr。　Wilkes　all　evenin’。”
　“Oh！”　said　Melanie；　still　more　embarrassed　by　Belle’s　offhand　reference　to　her　“girls。”　“Oh；　that　was—er—kind　of　you　and—of　them；　too。”
　“No　more’n　you　deserve；”　said　Belle　warmly。　“But　I　wouldn’t　of　did　it　for　just　anybody。　If　it　had　been　that　Miz　Kennedy’s　husband　by　hisself；　I　wouldn’t　of　lifted　a　finger；　no　matter　what　Captain　Butler　said。”
　“Why？”
　“Well；　Miz　Wilkes；　people　in　my　business　knows　a　heap　of　things。　It’d　surprise　and　shock　a　heap　of　fine　ladies　if　they　had　any　notion　how　much　we　knows　about　them。　And　she　ain’t　no　good；　Miz　Wilkes。　She　kilt　her　husband　and　that　nice　Wellburn　boy；　same　as　if　she　shot　them。　She　caused　it　all；　prancin’　about　Atlanta　by　herself；　enticin’　niggers　and　trash。　Why；　not　one　of　my　girls—”
　“You　　must　not　say　unkind　things　about　my　sister…in…law。”　Melanie　stiffened　coldly。
　Belle　put　an　eager　placating　hand　on　Melanie’s　arm　and　then　hastily　withdrew　it。
　“Don’t　freeze　me；　please；　Miz　Wilkes。　I　couldn’t　stand　it　after　you　been　so　kind　and　sweet　to　me。　I　forgot　how　you　liked　her　and　I’m　sorry　for　what　I　said。　I’m　sorry　about　poor　Mr。　Kennedy　bein’　dead　too。　He　was　a　nice　man。　I　used　to　buy　some　of　the　stuff　for　my　house　from　him　and　he　always　treated　me　pleasant。　But　Miz　Kennedy—well；　she　just　ain’t　in　the　same　class　with　you；　Miz　Wilkes。　She’s　a　mighty　cold　woman　and　I　can’t　help　it　if　I　think　so。　。。。　When　are　they　goin’　to　bury　Mr。　Kennedy？”
　“Tomorrow　morning。　And　you　are　wrong　about　Mrs。　Kennedy。　Why；　this　very　minute　she’s　prostrated　with　grief。”
　“Maybe　so；”　said　Belle　with　evident　disbelief。　“Well；　I　got　to　be　goin’。　I’m　afraid　somebody　might　recognize　this　carriage　if　I　stayed　here　longer　and　that　wouldn’t　do　you　no　good。　And；　Miz　Wilkes；　if　you　ever　see　me　on　the　street；　you—you　don’t　have　to　speak　to　me。　I’ll　understand。”
　“I　shall　be　proud　to　speak　to　you。　Proud　to　be　under　obligation　to　you。　I　hope—I　hope　we　meet　again。”
　“No；”　said　Belle。　“That　wouldn’t　be　fittin’。　Good　night。”
　
　CHAPTER　XLVII
　SCARLETT　SAT　in　her　bedroom；　picking　at　the　supper　tray　Mammy　had　brought　her；　listening　to　the　wind　hurling　itself　out　of　the　night。　The　house　was　frighteningly　still；　quieter　even　than　when　Frank　had　lain　in　the　parlor　just　a　few　hours　before。　Then　there　had　been　tiptoeing　feet　and　hushed　voices；　muffled　knocks　on　the　door；　neighbors　rustling　in　to　whisper　sympathy　and　occasional　sobs　from　Frank’s　sister　who　had　come　up　from　Jonesboro　for　the　funeral。
　But　now　the　house　was　cloaked　in　silence。　Although　her　door　was　open　she　could　hear　no　sounds　from　below　stairs。　Wade　and　the　baby　had　been　at　Melanie’s　since　Frank’s　body　was　brought　home　and　she　missed　the　sound　of　the　boy’s　feet　and　Ella’s　gurgling。　There　was　a　truce　in　the　kitchen　and　no　sound　of　quarreling　from　Peter；　Mammy　and　Cookie　floated　up　to　her。　Even　Aunt　Pitty；　downstairs　in　the　library；　was　not　rocking　her　creaking　chair　in　deference　to　Scarlett’s　sorrow。
　No　one　intruded　upon　her；　believing　that　she　wished　to　be　left　alone　with　her　grief；　but　to　be　left　alone　was　the　last　thing　Scarlett　desired。　Had　it　only　been　grief　that　companioned　her；　she　could　have　borne　it　as　she　had　borne　other　griefs。　But；　added　to　her　stunned　sense　of　loss　at　Frank’s　death；　were　fear　and　remorse　and　the　torment　of　a　suddenly　awakened　conscience。　For　the　first　time　in　her　life　she　was　regretting　things　she　had　done；　regretting　them　with　a　sweeping　superstitious　fear　that　made　her　cast　sidelong　glances　at　the　bed　upon　which　she　had　lain　with　Frank。
　She　had　killed　Frank。　She　had　killed　him　just　as　surely　as　if　it　had　been　her　finger　that　pulled　the　trigger。　He　had　begged　her　not　to　go　about　alone　but　she　had　not　listened　to　him。　And　now　he　was　dead　because　of　her　obstinacy。　God　would　punish　her　for　that。　But　there　lay　upon　her　conscience　another　matter　that　was　heavier　and　more　frightening　even　than　causing　his　death—a　matter　which　had　never　troubled　her　until　she　looked　upon　his　coffined　face。　There　had　been　something　helpless　and　pathetic　in　that　still　face　which　had　accused　her。　God　would　punish　her　for　marrying　him　when　he　really　loved　Suellen。　She　would　have　to　cower　at　the　seat　of　judgment　and　answer　for　that　lie　she　told　him　coming　back　from　the　Yankee　camp　in　his　buggy。
　Useless　for　her　to　argue　now　that　the　end　justified　the　means；　that　she　was　driven　into　trapping　him；　that　the　fate　of　too　many　people　hung　on　her　for　her　to　consider　either　his　or　Suellen’s　rights　and　happiness。　The　truth　stood　out　boldly　and　she　cowered　away　from　it。　She　had　married　him　coldly　and　used　him　coldly。　And　she　had　made　him　unhappy　during　the　last　six　months　when　she　could　have　made　him　very　happy。　God　would　punish　her　for　not　being　nicer　to　him—punish　her　for　all　her　bullyings　and　proddings　and　storms　of　temper　and　cutting　remarks；　for　alienating　his　friends　and　shaming　him　by　operating　the　mills　and　building　the　saloon　and　leasing　convicts。
　She　had　made　him　very　unhappy　and　she　knew　it；　but　he　had　borne　it　all　like　a　gentleman。　The　only　thing　she　had　ever　done　that　gave　him　any　real　happiness　was　to　present　him　with　Ella。　And　she　knew　if　she　could　have　kept　from　having　Ella；　Ella　would　never　have　been　born。
　She　shivered；　frightened；　wishing　Frank　were　alive；　so　she　could　be　nice　to　him；　so　very　nice　to　him　to　make　up　for　it　all。　Oh；　if　only　God　did　not　seem　so　furious　and　vengeful！　Oh；　if　only　the　minutes　did　not　go　by　so　slowly　and　the　house　were　not　so　still！　If　only　she　were　not　so　alone！
　If　only　Melanie　were　with　her；　Melanie　could　calm　her　fears。　But　Melanie　was　at　home；　nursing　Ashley。　For　a　moment　Scarlett　thought　of　summoning　Pittypat　to　stand　between　her　and　her　conscience　but　she　hesitated。　Pitty　would　probably　make　matters　worse；　for　she　honestly　mourned　Frank。　He　had　been　more　her　contemporary　than　Scarlett’s　and　she　had　been　devoted　to　him。　He　had　filled　to　perfection　Pitty’s　need　for　“a　man　in　the　house；”　for　he　brought　her　little　presents　and　harmless　gossip；　jokes　and　stories；　read　the　paper　to　her　at　night　and　explained　topics　of　the　day　to　her　while