It as if it were highly interesting. "Suellen ain't as bad as you

think, Scarlett. I think we'll get along right well. The only

trouble with Suellen is that she needs a husband and some children

and that's just what every woman needs."

The wagon jolted over the rutty road and for a few minutes while

the two sat silent Scarlett's mind was busy. There must be

something more to it than appeared on the surface, something

deeper, more important, to make the mild and soft-spoken Will want

to marry a complaining nagger like Suellen.

"You haven't told me the real reason, Will. If I'm head of the

family, I've got a right to know."

"That's right," said Will, "and I guess you'll understand. I can't

leave Tara. It's home to me, Scarlett, the only real home I ever

knew and I love every stone of it. I've worked on it like it was

mine. And when you put out work on somethin', you come to love it.

You know what I mean?"

She knew what he meant and her heart went out in a surge of warm

affection for him, hearing him say he, too, loved the thing she

loved best.

"And I figger it this way. With your pa gone and Carreen a nun,

there'll be just me and Suellen left here and, of course, I

couldn't live on at Tara without marryin' Suellen. You know how

folks talk."

"But--but Will, there's Melanie and Ashley--"

At Ashley's name he turned and looked at her, his pale eyes

unfathomable. She had the old feeling that Will knew all about her

and Ashley, understood all and did not either censure or approve.

"They'll be goin' soon."

"Going? Where? Tara is their home as well as yours."

"No, it ain't their home. That's just what's eatin' on Ashley. It

ain't his home and he don't feel like he's earnin' his keep. He's

a mighty pore farmer and he knows it. God knows he tries his best

but he warn't cut out for farmin' and you know it as well as I do.

If he splits kindlin', like as not he'll slice off his foot. He

can't no more keep a plow straight in a furrow than little Beau

can, and what he don't know about makin' things grow would fill a

book. It ain't his fault. He just warn't bred for it. And it

worries him that he's a man livin' at Tara on a woman's charity and

not givin' much in return."

"Charity? Has he ever said--"

"No, he's never said a word. You know Ashley. But I can tell.

Last night when we were sittin' up with your pa, I tole him I had

asked Suellen and she'd said Yes. And then Ashley said that

relieved him because he'd been feelin' like a dog, stayin' on at

Tara, and he knew he and Miss Melly would have to keep stayin' on,

now that Mr. O'Hara was dead, just to keep folks from talkin' about

me and Suellen. So then he told me he was aimin' to leave Tara and

get work."

"Work? What kind? Where?"

"I don't know exactly what he'll do but he said he was goin' up

North. He's got a Yankee friend in New York who wrote him about

workin' in a bank up there."

"Oh, no!" cried Scarlett from the bottom of her heart and, at the

cry, Will gave her the same look as before.

"Maybe 'twould be better all 'round if he did go North."

"No! No! I don't think so."

Her mind was working feverishly. Ashley couldn't go North! She

might never see him again. Even though she had not seen him in

months, had not spoken to him alone since that fateful scene in the

orchard, there had not been a day when she had not thought of him,

been glad he was sheltered under her roof. She had never sent a

dollar to Will that she had not been pleased that it would make

Ashley's life easier. Of course, he wasn't any good as a farmer.

Ashley was bred for better things, she thought proudly. He was

born to rule, to live in a large house, ride fine horses, read

books of poetry and tell negroes what to do. That there were no

more mansions and horses and negroes and few books did not alter

matters. Ashley wasn't bred to plow and split rails. No wonder he

wanted to leave Tara.

But she could not let him go away from Georgia. If necessary, she

would bully Frank into giving him a job in the store, make Frank

turn off the boy he now had behind the counter. But, no--Ashley's

place was no more behind a counter than it was behind a plow. A

Wilkes a shopkeeper! Oh, never that! There must be something--

why, her mill of course! Her relief at the thought was so great

that she smiled. But would he accept an offer from her? Would he

still think it was charity? She must manage it so he would think

he was doing her a favor. She would discharge Mr. Johnson and put

Ashley in charge of the old mill while Hugh operated the new one.

She would explain to Ashley how Frank's ill health and the pressure

of work at the store kept him from helping her, and she would plead

her condition as another reason why she needed his help.

She would make him realize somehow that she couldn't do without his

aid at this time. And she would give him a half-interest in the

mill, if he would only take it over--anything just to have him near

her, anything to see that bright smile light up his face, anything

for the chance of catching an unguarded look in his eyes that

showed he still cared. But, she promised herself, never, never

would she again try to prod him into words of love, never again

would she try to make him throw away that foolish honor he valued

more than love. Somehow, she must delicately convey to him this

new resolution of hers. Otherwise he might refuse, fearing another

scene such as that last terrible one had been.

"I can get him something to do in Atlanta," she said.

"Well, that's yours and Ashley's business," said Will and put the

straw back in his mouth. "Giddap, Sherman. Now, Scarlett.

there's somethin' else I've got to ask you before I tell you about

your pa. I won't have you lightin' into Suellen. What she's done,

she's done, and you snatchin' her baldheaded won't bring Mr. O'Hara

back. Besides she honestly thought she was actin' for the best!"

"I wanted to ask you about that. What is all this about Suellen?

Alex talked riddles and said she ought to be whipped. What has she

done?"

"Yes, folks are pretty riled up about her. Everybody I run into

this afternoon in Jonesboro was promisin' to cut her dead the next

time they seen her, but maybe they'll get over it. Now, promise me

you won't light into her. I won't be havin' no quarrelin' tonight

with Mr. O'Hara layin' dead in the parlor."

HE won't be having any quarreling! thought Scarlett, indignantly.

He talks like Tara was his already!

And then she thought of Gerald, dead in the parlor, and suddenly

she began to cry, cry in bitter, gulping sobs. Will put his arm

around her, drew her comfortably close and said nothing.

As they jolted slowly down the darkening road, her head on his

shoulder, her bonnet askew, she had forgotten the Gerald of the

last two years, the vague old gentleman who stared at doors waiting

for a woman who would never enter. She was remembering the vital,

virile old man with his mane of crisp white hair, his bellowing

cheerfulness, his stamping boots, his clumsy jokes, his generosity.

She remembered how, as a child, he had seemed the most wonderful

man in the world, this blustering father who carried her before him

on his saddle when he jumped fences, turned her up and paddled her

when she was naughty, and then cried when she cried and gave her

quarters to get her to hush. She remembered him coming home from

Charleston and Atlanta laden with gifts that were never appropriate,

remembered too, with a faint smile through tears, how he came home

in the wee hours from Court Day at Jonesboro, drunk as seven earls,

jumping fences, his rollicking voice raised in "The Wearin' o' the

Green." And how abashed he was, facing Ellen on the morning after.

Well, he was with Ellen now.

"Why didn't you write me that he was ill? I'd have come so fast--"

"He warn't ill, not a minute. Here, honey, take my handkerchief

and I'll tell you all about it."

She blew her nose on his bandanna, for she had come from Atlanta

without even a handkerchief, and settled back into the crook of

Will's arm. How nice Will was. Nothing ever upset him.

"Well, it was this way, Scarlett. You been sendin' us money right

along and Ashley and me, well, we've paid taxes and bought the mule

and seeds and what-all and a few hogs and chickens. Miss Melly's

done mighty well with the hens, yes sir, she has. She's a fine

woman, Miss Melly is. Well, anyway, after we bought things for

Tara, there warn't so much left over for folderols, but none of us

warn't complainin'. Except Suellen.

"Miss Melanie and Miss Carreen stay at home and wear their old

clothes like they're proud of them but you know Suellen, Scarlett.

She hasn't never got used to doin' without. It used to stick in

her craw that she had to wear old dresses every time I took her