Impressed with the fact that every one of them wanted her, and

that look of sadness and despair would be in his eyes. Then she

would make him happy again by letting him discover that, popular

though she was, she preferred him above any other man in all the

world. And when she admitted it, modestly and sweetly, she would

look a thousand things more. Of course, she would do it all in a

ladylike way. She wouldn't even dream of saying to him boldly

that she loved him--that would never do. But the manner of

telling him was a detail that troubled her not at all. She had

managed such situations before and she could do it again.

Lying in the bed with the moonlight streaming dimly over her,

she pictured the whole scene in her mind. She saw the look of

surprise and happiness that would come over his face when he

realized that she really loved him, and she heard the words he

would say asking her to be his wife.

Naturally, she would have to say then that she simply couldn't

think of marrying a man when he was engaged to another girl, but

he would insist and finally she would let herself be persuaded.

Then they would decide to run off to Jonesboro that very afternoon

and--

Why, by this time tomorrow night, she might be Mrs. Ashley Wilkes!

She sat up in bed, hugging her knees, and for a long happy moment

she WAS Mrs. Ashley Wilkes--Ashley's bride! Then a slight chill

entered her heart. Suppose it didn't work out this way? Suppose

Ashley didn't beg her to run away with him? Resolutely she pushed

the thought from her mind.

"I won't think of that now," she said firmly. "If I think of it

now, it will upset me. There's no reason why things won't come

out the way I want them--if he loves me. And I know he does!"

She raised her chin and her pale, black-fringed eyes sparkled in

the moonlight. Ellen had never told her that desire and

attainment were two different matters; life had not taught her

that the race was not to the swift. She lay in the silvery

shadows with courage rising and made the plans that a sixteen-

year-old makes when life has been so pleasant that defeat is an

impossibility and a pretty dress and a clear complexion are

weapons to vanquish fate.

CHAPTER V

It was ten o'clock in the morning. The day was warm for April and

the golden sunlight streamed brilliantly into Scarlett's room

through the blue curtains of the wide windows. The cream-colored

walls glowed with light and the depths of the mahogany furniture

gleamed deep red like wine, while the floor glistened as if it

were glass, except where the rag rugs covered it and they were

spots of gay color.

Already summer was in the air, the first hint of Georgia summer

when the high tide of spring gives way reluctantly before a

fiercer heat. A balmy, soft warmth poured into the room, heavy

with velvety smells, redolent of many blossoms, of newly fledged

trees and of the moist, freshly turned red earth. Through the

window Scarlett could see the bright riot of the twin lanes of

daffodils bordering the graveled driveway and the golden masses of

yellow jessamine spreading flowery sprangles modestly to the earth

like crinolines. The mockingbirds and the jays, engaged in their

old feud for possession of the magnolia tree beneath her window,

were bickering, the jays strident, acrimonious, the mockers sweet