In every word he uttered were balm upon the wound left by Suellen's

supposed defection. His heart was sore and bewildered at Suellen's

conduct and his vanity, the shy, touchy vanity of a middle-aged

bachelor who knows himself to be unattractive to women, was deeply

wounded. He could not write Suellen, upbraiding her for her

faithlessness; he shrank from the very idea. But he could ease his

heart by talking about her to Scarlett. Without saying a disloyal

word about Suellen, she could tell him she understood how badly her

sister had treated him and what good treatment he merited from a

woman who really appreciated him.

Little Mrs. Hamilton was such a pretty pink-cheeked person,

alternating between melancholy sighs when she thought of her sad

plight, and laughter as gay and sweet as the tinkling of tiny

silver bells when he made small jokes to cheer her. Her green

gown, now neatly cleaned by Mammy, showed off her slender figure

with its tiny waist to perfection, and how bewitching was the faint

fragrance which always clung about her handkerchief and her hair!

It was a shame that such a fine little woman should be alone and

helpless in a world so rough that she didn't even understand its

harshness. No husband nor brother nor even a father now to protect

her. Frank thought the world too rude a place for a lone woman

and, in that idea, Scarlett silently and heartily concurred.

He came to call every night, for the atmosphere of Pitty's house

was pleasant and soothing. Mammy's smile at the front door was the

smile reserved for quality folks, Pitty served him coffee laced

with brandy and fluttered about him and Scarlett hung on his every

utterance. Sometimes in the afternoons he took Scarlett riding

with him in his buggy when he went out on business. These rides

were merry affairs because she asked so many foolish questions--

"just like a woman," he told himself approvingly. He couldn't help

laughing at her ignorance about business matters and she laughed

too, saying: "Well, of course, you can't expect a silly little

woman like me to understand men's affairs."

She made him feel, for the first time in his old-maidish life, that

he was a strong upstanding man fashioned by God in a nobler mold

than other men, fashioned to protect silly helpless women.

When, at last, they stood together to be married, her confiding

little hand in his and her downcast lashes throwing thick black

crescents on her pink cheeks, he still did not know how it all came

about. He only knew he had done something romantic and exciting

for the first time in his life. He, Frank Kennedy, had swept this

lovely creature off her feet and into his strong arms. That was a

heady feeling.

No friend or relative stood up with them at their marriage. The

witnesses were strangers called in from the street. Scarlett had

insisted on that and he had given in, though reluctantly, for he

would have liked his sister and his brother-in-law from Jonesboro

to be with him. And a reception with toasts drunk to the bride in

Miss Pitty's parlor amid happy friends would have been a joy to

him. But Scarlett would not hear of even Miss Pitty being present.

"Just us two, Frank," she begged, squeezing his arm. "Like an

elopement. I always did want to run away and be married! Please,

sweetheart, just for me!"

It was that endearing term, still so new to his ears, and the

bright teardrops which edged her pale green eyes as she looked up

pleadingly at him that won him over. After all, a man had to make

some concessions to his bride, especially about the wedding, for

women set such a store by sentimental things.

And before he knew it, he was married.

Frank gave her the three hundred dollars, bewildered by her sweet

urgency, reluctant at first, because it meant the end of his hope

of buying the sawmill immediately. But he could not see her family

evicted, and his disappointment soon faded at the sight of her

radiant happiness, disappeared entirely at the loving way she "took

on" over his generosity. Frank had never before had a woman "take

on" over him and he came to feel that the money had been well

spent, after all.

Scarlett dispatched Mammy to Tara immediately for the triple

purpose of giving Will the money, announcing her marriage and

bringing Wade to Atlanta. In two days she had a brief note from

Will which she carried about with her and read and reread with

mounting joy. Will wrote that the taxes had been paid and Jonas

Wilkerson "acted up pretty bad" at the news but had made no other

threats so far. Will closed by wishing her happiness, a laconic

formal statement which he qualified in no way. She knew Will

understood what she had done and why she had done it and neither

blamed nor praised. But what must Ashley think? she wondered

feverishly. What must he think of me now, after what I said to him

so short a while ago in the orchard at Tara?

She also had a letter from Suellen, poorly spelled, violent,

abusive, tear splotched, a letter so full of venom and truthful

observations upon her character that she was never to forget it nor

forgive the writer. But even Suellen's words could not dim her

happiness that Tara was safe, at least from immediate danger.