“Yes, I’m going. That’s what I came home to tell you. I’m going to Charleston and New Orleans and—oh, well, a very extended trip. I’m leaving today.”
“Oh!”
“And I’m taking Bonnie with me. Get that foolish Prissy to pack her little duds. I’ll take Prissy too.”
“You’ll never take my child out of this house.”
“My child too, Mrs. Butler. Surely you do not mind me taking her to Charleston to see her grandmother?”
“Her grandmother, my foot! Do you think I’ll let you take that baby out of here when you’ll be drunk every night and most likely taking her to houses like that Belle’s—”
He threw down the cigar violently and it smoked acridly on the carpet, the smell of scorching wool rising to their nostrils. In an instant he was across the floor and by her side, his face black with fury.
“If you were a man, I would break your neck for that. As it is, all I can say is for you to shut your God-damn mouth. Do you think I do not love Bonnie, that I would take her where—my daughter! Good God, you fool! And as for you, giving yourself pious airs about your motherhood, why, a cat’s a better mother than you! What have you ever done for the children? Wade and Ella are frightened to death of you and if it wasn’t for Melanie Wilkes, they’d never know what love and affection are. But Bonnie, my Bonnie! Do you think I can’t take better care of her than you? Do you think I’ll ever let you bully her and break her spirit, as you’ve broken Wade’s and Ella’s? Hell, no! Have her packed up and ready for me in an hour or I warn you what happened the other night will be mild beside what will happen. I’ve always thought a good lashing with a buggy whip would benefit you immensely.”
He turned on his heel before she could speak and went out of the room on swift feet. She heard him cross the floor of the hall to the children’s play room and open the door. There was a glad, quick treble of childish voices and she heard Bonnie’s tones rise over Ella’s.
“Daddy, where you been?”
“Hunting for a rabbit’s skin to wrap my little Bonnie in. Give your best sweetheart a kiss, Bonnie—and you too, Ella.”
CHAPTER LV
“DARLING, I don’t want any explanation from you and I won’t listen to one,” said Melanie firmly as she gently laid a small hand across Scarlett’s tortured lips and stilled her words. “You insult yourself and Ashley and me by even thinking there could be need of explanations between us. Why, we three have been—have been like soldiers fighting the world together for so many years that I’m ashamed of you for thinking idle gossip could come between us. Do you think I’d believe that you and my Ashley— Why, the idea! Don’t you realize I know you better than anyone in the world knows you? Do you think I’ve forgotten all the wonderful, unselfish things you’ve done for Ashley and Beau and me—everything from saving my life to keeping us from starving! Do you think I could remember you walking in a furrow behind that Yankee’s horse almost barefooted and with your hands blistered—just so the baby and I could have something to eat—and then believe such dreadful things about you? I don’t want to hear a word out of you, Scarlett O’Hara. Not a word.”
“But—” Scarlett fumbled and stopped.
Rhett had left town the hour before with Bonnie and Prissy, and desolation was added to Scarlett’s shame and anger. The additional burden of her guilt with Ashley and Melanie’s defense was more than she could bear. Had Melanie believed India and Archie, cut her at the reception or even greeted her frigidly, then she could have held her head high and fought back with every weapon in her armory. But now, with the memory of Melanie standing between her and social ruin, standing like a thin, shining blade, with trust and a fighting light in her eyes, there seemed nothing honest to do but confess. Yes, blurt out everything from that far-off beginning on the sunny porch at Tara.
She was driven by a conscience which, though long suppressed, could still rise up, an active Catholic conscience. “Confess your sins and do penance for them in sorrow and contrition,” Ellen had told her a hundred times and, in this crisis, Ellen’s religious training came back and gripped her. She would confess—yes, everything, every look and word, those few caresses—and then God would ease her pain and give her peace. And, for her penance, there would be the dreadful sight of Melanie’s face changing from fond love and trust to incredulous horror and repulsion. Oh, that was too hard a penance, she thought in anguish, to have to live out her life remembering Melanie’s face, knowing that Melanie knew all the pettiness, the meanness, the two-faced disloyalty and the hypocrisy that were in her.
Once, the thought of flinging the truth tauntingly in Melanie’s face and seeing the collapse of her fool’s paradise had been an intoxicating one, a gesture worth everything she might lose thereby. But now, all that had changed overnight and there was nothing she desired less. Why this should be she did not know. There was too great a tumult of conflicting ideas in her mind for her to sort them out. She only knew that as she had once desired to keep her mother thinking her modest, kind, pure of heart, so she now passionately desired to keep Melanie’s high opinion. She only knew that she did not care what the world thought of her or what Ashley or Rhett thought of her, but Melanie must not think her other than she had always thought her.
She dreaded to tell Melanie the truth but one of her rare honest instincts arose, an instinct that would not let her masquerade in false colors before the woman who had fought her battles for her. So she had hurried to Melanie that morning, as soon as Rhett and Bonnie had left the house.
