In the feel of his warm blood on her bare feet. She had struck a

blow of revenge for Tara--and for Ellen.

There were hurried stumbling steps in the upper hall, a pause and

then more steps, weak dragging steps now, punctuated by metallic

clankings. A sense of time and reality coming back to her,

Scarlett looked up and saw Melanie at the top of the stairs, clad

only in the ragged chemise which served her as a nightgown, her

weak arm weighed down with Charles' saber. Melanie's eyes took in

the scene below in its entirety, the sprawling blue-clad body in

the red pool, the sewing box beside him, Scarlett, barefooted and

gray-faced, clutching the long pistol.

In silence her eyes met Scarlett's. There was a glow of grim pride

in her usually gentle face, approbation and a fierce joy in her

smile that equaled the fiery tumult in Scarlett's own bosom.

"Why--why--she's like me! She understands how I feel!" thought

Scarlett in that long moment. "She'd have done the same thing!"

With a thrill she looked up at the frail swaying girl for whom she

had never had any feelings but of dislike and contempt. Now,

struggling against hatred for Ashley's wife, there surged a feeling

of admiration and comradeship. She saw in a flash of clarity

untouched by any petty emotion that beneath the gentle voice and

the dovelike eyes of Melanie there was a thin flashing blade of

unbreakable steel, felt too that there were banners and bugles of

courage in Melanie's quiet blood.

"Scarlett! Scarlett!" shrilled the weak frightened voices of

Suellen and Carreen, muffled by their closed door, and Wade's voice

screamed "Auntee! Auntee!" Swiftly Melanie put her finger to her

lips and, laying the sword on the top step, she painfully made her

way down the upstairs hall and opened the door of the sick room.

"Don't be scared, chickens!" came her voice with teasing gaiety.

"Your big sister was trying to clean the rust off Charles' pistol

and it went off and nearly scared her to death!" . . . "Now, Wade

Hampton, Mama just shot off your dear Papa's pistol! When you are

bigger, she will let you shoot it."

"What a cool liar!" thought Scarlett with admiration. "I couldn't

have thought that quickly. But why lie? They've got to know I've

done it."

She looked down at the body again and now revulsion came over her

as her rage and fright melted away, and her knees began to quiver

with the reaction. Melanie dragged herself to the top step again

and started down, holding onto the banisters, her pale lower lip

caught between her teeth.

"Go back to bed, silly, you'll kill yourself!" Scarlett cried, but

the half-naked Melanie made her painful way down into the lower

hall.

"Scarlett," she whispered, "we must get him out of here and bury

him. He may not be alone and if they find him here--" She

steadied herself on Scarlett's arm.

"He must be alone," said Scarlett. "I didn't see anyone else from

the upstairs window. He must be a deserter."

"Even if he is alone, no one must know about it. The negroes might

talk and then they'd come and get you. Scarlett, we must get him

hidden before the folks come back from the swamp."

Her mind prodded to action by the feverish urgency of Melanie's