It. Clutching the letter to her, she raced up the porch steps and

down the hall, past the parlor where all the inhabitants of Tara

were getting in one another's way as they worked over the

unconscious Melanie, and into Ellen's office. She shut the door

and locked it and flung herself down on the sagging old sofa

crying, laughing, kissing the letter.

"Beloved," she whispered, "I am coming home to you."

Common sense told them that unless Ashley developed wings, it would

be weeks or even months before he could travel from Illinois to

Georgia, but hearts nevertheless beat wildly whenever a soldier

turned into the avenue at Tara. Each bearded scarecrow might be

Ashley. And if it were not Ashley, perhaps the soldier would have

news of him or a letter from Aunt Pitty about him. Black and

white, they rushed to the front porch every time they heard

footsteps. The sight of a uniform was enough to bring everyone

flying from the woodpile, the pasture and the cotton patch. For a

month after the letter came, work was almost at a standstill. No

one wanted to be out of the house when he arrived. Scarlett least

of all. And she could not insist on the others attending to their

duties when she so neglected hers.

But when the weeks crawled by and Ashley did not come or any news

of him, Tara settled back into its old routine. Longing hearts

could only stand so much of longing. An uneasy fear crept into

Scarlett's mind that something had happened to him along the way.

Rock Island was so far away and he might have been weak or sick

when released from prison. And he had no money and was tramping

through a country where Confederates were hated. If only she knew

where he was, she would send money to him, send every penny she had

and let the family go hungry, so he could come home swiftly on the

train.

"Beloved, I am coming home to you."

In the first rush of joy when her eyes met those words, they had

meant only that Ashley was coming home to her. Now, in the light

of cooler reason, it was Melanie to whom he was returning, Melanie

who went about the house these days singing with joy. Occasionally,

Scarlett wondered bitterly why Melanie could not have died in

childbirth in Atlanta. That would have made things perfect. Then

she could have married Ashley after a decent interval and made

little Beau a good stepmother too. When such thoughts came she did

not pray hastily to God, telling Him she did not mean it. God did

not frighten her any more.

Soldiers came singly and in pairs and dozens and they were always

hungry. Scarlett thought despairingly that a plague of locusts

would be more welcome. She cursed again the old custom of

hospitality which had flowered in the era of plenty, the custom

which would not permit any traveler, great or humble, to go on his

journey without a night's lodging, food for himself and his horse

and the utmost courtesy the house could give. She knew that era

had passed forever, but the rest of the household did not, nor did

the soldiers, and each soldier was welcomed as if he were a long-

awaited guest.

As the never-ending line went by, her heart hardened. They were

eating the food meant for the mouths of Tara, vegetables over whose

long rows she had wearied her back, food she had driven endless

miles to buy. Food was so hard to get and the money in the

Yankee's wallet would not last forever. Only a few greenbacks and

the two gold pieces were left now. Why should she feed this horde

of hungry men? The war was over. They would never again stand

between her and danger. So, she gave orders to Pork that when

soldiers were in the house, the table should be set sparely. This

order prevailed until she noticed that Melanie, who had never been

strong since Beau was born, was inducing Pork to put only dabs of

food on her plate and giving her share to the soldiers.

"You'll have to stop it, Melanie," she scolded. "You're half sick

yourself and if you don't eat more, you'll be sick in bed and we'll

have to nurse you. Let these men go hungry. They can stand it.

They've stood it for four years and it won't hurt them to stand it

a little while longer."

Melanie turned to her and on her face was the first expression of

naked emotion Scarlett had ever seen in those serene eyes.

"Oh, Scarlett, don't scold me! Let me do it. You don't know how