ve to see it through； bear all the malice of the girls and her own humiliation and heartbreak。 To run away would only give them more ammunition。
She pounded her clenched fist against the tall white pillar beside her； and she wished that she were Samson； so that she could pull down all of Twelve Oaks and destroy every person in it。 She’d make them sorry。 She’d show them。 She didn’t quite see how she’d show them； but she’d do it all the same。 She’d hurt them worse than they hurt her。
For the moment； Ashley as Ashley was forgotten。 He was not the tall drowsy boy she loved but part and parcel of the Wilkeses； Twelve Oaks； the County—and she hated them all because they laughed。 Vanity was stronger than love at sixteen and there was no room in her hot heart now for anything but hate。
“I won’t go home；” she thought。 “I’ll stay here and I’ll make them sorry。 And I’ll never tell Mother。 No； I’ll never tell anybody。” She braced herself to go back into the house； to reclimb the stairs and go into another bedroom。
As she turned； she saw Charles coming into the house from the other end of the long hall。 When he saw her； he hurried toward her。 His hair was tousled and his face near geranium with excitement。
“Do you know what’s happened？” he cried； even before he reached her。 “Have you heard？ Paul Wilson just rode over from Jonesboro with the news！”
He paused； breathless； as he came up to her。 She said nothing and only stared at him。
“Mr。 Lincoln has called for men； soldiers—I mean volunteers—seventy…five thousand of them！”
Mr。 Lincoln again！ Didn’t men ever think about anything that really mattered？ Here was this fool expecting her to be excited about Mr。 Lincoln’s didoes when her heart was broken and her reputation as good as ruined。
Charles stared at her。 Her face was paper white and her narrow eyes blazing like emeralds。 He had never seen such fire in any girl’s face； such a glow in anyone’s eyes。
“I’m so clumsy；” he said。 “I should have told you more gently。 I forgot how delicate ladies are。 I’m sorry I’ve upset you so。 You don’t feel faint； do you？ Can I get you a glass of water？”
“No；” she said； and managed a crooked smile。
“Shall we go sit on the bench？” he asked； taking her arm。
She nodded and he carefully handed her down the front steps and led her across the grass to the iron bench beneath the largest oak in the front yard。 How fragile and tender women are； he thought； the mere mention of war and harshness makes them faint。 The idea made him feel very masculine and he was doubly gentle as he seated her。 She looked so strangely； and there was a wild beauty about her white face that set his heart leaping。 Could it be that she was distressed by the thought that he might go to the war？ No； that was too conceited for belief。 But why did she look at him so oddly？ And why did her hands shake as they fingered her lace handkerchief： And her thick sooty lashes—they were fluttering just like the eyes of girls in romances he had read； fluttering with timidity and love。
He cleared his throat three times to speak and failed each time。 He dropped his eyes because her own green ones met his so piercingly； almost as if she were not seeing him。
“He has a lot of money；” she was thinking swiftly； as a thought and a plan went through her brain。 “And he hasn’t any parents to bother me and he lives in Atlanta。 And if I married him right away； it would show Ashley that I didn’t care a rap—that I was only flirting with him。 And it would just kill Honey。 She’d never； never catch another beau and everybody’d laugh fit to die at her。 And it would hurt Melanie； because she loves Charles so much。 And it would hurt Stu and Brent—” She didn’t quite know why she wanted to hurt them； except that they had catty sisters。 “And they’d all be sorry when I came back here to visit in a fine carriage and with lots of pretty clothes and a house of my own。 And they would never； never laugh at me。”
“Of course； it will mean fighting；” said Charles； after several more embarrassed attempts。 “But don’t you fret； Miss Scarlett； it’ll be over in a month and we’ll have them howling。 Yes； sir！ Howling！ I wouldn’t miss it for anything。 I’m afraid there won’t be much of a ball tonight； because the Troop is going to meet at Jonesboro。 The Tarleton boys have gone to spread the news。 I know the ladies will be sorry。”
She said； “Oh；” for want of anything better； but it sufficed。
Coolness was beginning to come back to her and her mind was collecting itself。 A frost lay over all her emotions and she thought that she would never feel anything warmly again。 Why not take this pretty； flushed boy？ He was as good as anyone else and she didn’t care。 No； she could never care about anything again； not if she lived to be ninety。
“I can’t decide now whether to go with Mr。 Wade Hampton’s South Carolina Legion or with the Atlanta Gate City Guard。”
She said； “Oh；” again and their eyes met and the fluttering lashes were his undoing。
“Will you wait for me； Miss Scarlett？ It—it would be Heaven just knowing that you were waiting for me until after we licked them！” He hung breathless on her words； watching the way her lips curled up at the corners； noting for the first time the shadows about these corners and thinking what it would mean to kiss them。 Her hand； with palm clammy with perspiration； slid into his。
“I wouldn’t want to wait；” she said and her eyes were veiled。
He sat clutching her hand； his mouth wide open。 Watching him from under her lashes； Scarlett thought detachedly that he looked like a gigged frog。 He stuttered several times； closed his mouth and opened it again； and again became； geranium colored。
“Can you possibly love me？”
She said nothing but looked down into her lap； and Charles was thrown into new states of ecstasy and embarrassment。 Perhaps a man should not ask a girl such a question。 Perhaps it would be unmaidenly for her to answer it。 Having never possessed the courage to get himself into such a situation before； Charles was at a loss as to how to act。 He wanted to shout and to sing and to kiss her and to caper about the lawn and then run tell everyone； black and white； that she loved him。 But he only squeezed her hand until he drove her rings into the flesh。
“You will marry me soon； Miss Scarlett？”
“Um；” she said； fingering a fold of her dress。
“Shall we make it a double wedding with Mel—”
“No；” she said quickly； her eyes glinting up at him ominously。 Charles knew again that he had made an error。 Of course； a girl wanted her own wedding—not shared glory。 How kind she was to overlook his blunderings。 If it were only dark and he had the courage of shadows and could kiss her hand and say the things he longed to say。
“When may I speak to your father？”
“The sooner the better；” she said； hoping that perhaps he would release the crushing pressure on her rings before she had to ask him to do it。
He leaped up and for a moment she thought he was going to cut a caper； before dignity claimed him。 He looked down at her radiantly； his whole clean simple heart in his eyes。 She had never had anyone look at her thus before and would never have it from any other man； but in her queer detachment she only thought that he looked like a calf。
“I’ll go now and find your father；” he said； smiling all over his face。 “I can’t wait。 Will you excuse me—dear？” The endearment came hard but having said it once； he repeated it again with pleasure。
“Yes；” she said。 “I’ll wait here。 It’s so cool and nice here。”
He went off across the lawn and disappeared around the house； and she was alone under the rustling oak。 From the stables； men were streaming out on horseback； negro servants riding hard behind their masters。 The Munroe boys tore past waving their hats； and the Fontaines and Calverts went down the road yelling。 The four Tarletons charged across the lawn by her and Brent shouted： “Mother’s going to give us the horses！ Yee…aay…ee！” Turf flew and they were gone； leaving her alone again。
The white house reared its tall columns before her； seeming to withdraw with dignified aloofness from her。 It would never be her house now。 Ashley would never carry her over the threshold as his bride。 Oh； Ashley； Ashley！ What have I done？ Deep in her； under layers of hurt pride and cold practicality； something stirred hurtingly。 An adult emotion was being born； stronger than her vanity or her willful selfishness。 She loved Ashley and she knew she loved him and she had never cared so much as in that instant when she saw Charles disappearing around the curved graveled walk。
CHAPTER VII
WITHIN TWO WEEKS Scarlett had become a wife； and within two months more she was a widow。 She was soon released from the bonds she had assumed with so much haste and so little thought； but she was never again to know the careless freedom of her unmarried days。 Widowhood had crowded closely on the heels of marriage but； to her dismay； motherhood soon followed。
In after years when she thought of those last days of April； 1861； Scarlett could never quite remember details。 Time and events were telescoped； jumbled together like a nightmare that had no reality or reason。 Till the day she died there would be blank spots in her memories of those days。 Especially vague were her recollections of the time between her acceptance of Charles and her wedding。 Two weeks！ So short an engagement would have been impossible in times of peace。 Then there would have been a decorous interval of a year or at least six months。 But the South was aflame with war； events roared along as swiftly as if carried by a mighty wind and the slow tempo of the old days was gone。 Ellen had wrung her hands and counseled delay； in order that Scarlett might think the matter over at greater length。 But to her pleadings； Scarlett turned a sullen face and a deaf ear。 Marry she would！ and quickly too。 Within two weeks。
Learning that Ashley’s wedding had been moved up from the autumn to the first of May； so he could leave with the Troop as soon as it was called into service； Scarlett set the date of her wedding for the day before his。 Ellen protested but Charles pleaded with new