It ter me, Miss Scnrlett? Dat watch belong by rights ter lil Wade

Hampton."

"It belongs to you. What did Wade Hampton ever do for Pa? Did he

look after him when he was sick and feeble? Did he bathe him and

dress him and shave him? Did he stick by him when the Yankees

came? Did he steal for him? Don't be a fool, Pork. If ever

anyone deserved a watch, you do, and I know Pa would approve.

Here."

She picked up the black hand and laid the watch in the palm. Pork

gazed at it reverently and slowly delight spread over his face.

"Fer me, truly, Miss Scarlett?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Well'm--thankee, Ma'm."

"Would you like for me to take it to Atlanta and have it engraved?"

"Whut's dis engrabed mean?" Pork's voice was suspicious.

"It means to put writing on the back of it, like--like 'To Pork

from the O'Haras--Well done good and faithful servant.'"

"No'm--thankee. Ma'm. Never mind de engrabin'." Pork retreated a

step, clutching the watch firmly.

A little smile twitched her lips.

"What's the matter, Pork? Don't you trust me to bring it back?"

"Yas'm, Ah trus'es you--only, well'm, you mout change yo' mind."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Well'm, you mout sell it. Ah spec it's wuth a heap."

"Do you think I'd sell Pa's watch?"

"Yas'm--ef you needed de money."

"You ought to be beat for that, Pork. I've a mind to take the

watch back."

"No'm, you ain'!" The first faint smile of the day showed on

Pork's grief-worn face. "Ah knows you--An' Miss Scarlett--"

"Yes, Pork?"

"Ef you wuz jes' half as nice ter w'ite folks as you is ter

niggers, Ah spec de worl' would treat you better."

"It treats me well enough," she said. "Now, go find Mr. Ashley and

tell him I want to see him here, right away."

Ashley sat on Ellen's little writing chair, his long body dwarfing

the frail bit of furniture while Scarlett offered him a half-

Interest in the mill. Not once did his eyes meet hers and he spoke

no word of interruption. He sat looking down at his hands, turning

them over slowly, inspecting first palms and then backs, as though

he had never seen them before. Despite hard work, they were still

slender and sensitive looking and remarkably well tended for a

farmer's hands.

His bowed head and silence disturbed her a little and she redoubled

her efforts to make the mill sound attractive. She brought to

bear, too, all the charm of smile and glance she possessed but they

were wasted, for he did not raise his eyes. If he would only look

at her! She made no mention of the information Will had given her

of Ashley's determination to go North and spoke with the outward

assumption that no obstacle stood in the way of his agreement with

her plan. Still he did not speak and finally, her words trailed

Into silence. There was a determined squareness about his slender

shoulders that alarmed her. Surely he wouldn't refuse! What

earthly reason could he have for refusing?

"Ashley," she began again and paused. She had not intended using

her pregnancy as an argument, had shrunk from the thought of Ashley

even seeing her so bloated and ugly, but as her other persuasions

seemed to have made no impression, she decided to use it and her

helplessness as a last card.

"You must come to Atlanta. I do need your help so badly now,

because I can't look after the mills. It may be months before I

can because--you see--well, because . . ."

"Please!" he said roughly. "Good God, Scarlett!"

He rose and went abruptly to the window and stood with his back to

her, watching the solemn single file of ducks parade across the

barnyard.

"Is that--is that why you won't look at me?" she questioned

forlornly. "I know I look--"

He swung around in a flash and his gray eyes met hers with an

intensity that made her hands go to her throat.

"Damn your looks!" he said with a swift violence. "You know you

always look beautiful to me."

Happiness flooded her until her eyes were liquid with tears.

"How sweet of you to say that! For I was so ashamed to let you see

me--"

"You ashamed? Why should you be ashamed? I'm the one to feel

shame and I do. If it hadn't been for my stupidity you wouldn't be

in this fix. You'd never have married Frank. I should never have

let you leave Tara last winter. Oh, fool that I was! I should

have known you--known you were desperate, so desperate that you'd--

I should have--I should have--" His face went haggard.

Scarlett's heart beat wildly. He was regretting that he had not

run away with her!

"The least I could have done was go out and commit highway robbery

or murder to get the tax money for you when you had taken us in as

beggars. Oh, I messed it up all the way around!"

Her heart contracted with disappointment and some of the happiness

went from her, for these were not the words she hoped to hear.

"I would have gone anyway," she said tiredly. "I couldn't have let

you do anything like that. And anyway, it's done now."

"Yes, it's done now," he said with slow bitterness. "You wouldn't

have let me do anything dishonorable but you would sell yourself to

a man you didn't love--and bear his child, so that my family and I

wouldn't starve. It was kind of you to shelter my helplessness."

The edge in his voice spoke of a raw, unhealed wound that ached

within him and his words brought shame to her eyes. He was swift

to see it and his face changed to gentleness.

"You didn't think I was blaming you? Dear God, Scarlett! No. You

are the bravest woman I've ever known. It's myself I'm blaming."

He turned and looked out of the window again and the shoulders

presented to her gaze did not look quite so square. Scarlett

waited a long moment in silence, hoping that Ashley would return to

the mood in which he spoke of her beauty, hoping he would say more

words that she could treasure. It had been so long since she had

seen him and she had lived on memories until they were worn thin.

She knew he still loved her. That fact was evident, in every line

of him, in every bitter, self-condemnatory word, in his resentment

at her bearing Frank's child. She so longed to hear him say it in

words, longed to speak words herself that would provoke a

confession, but she dared not. She remembered her promise given

last winter in the orchard, that she would never again throw

herself at his head. Sadly she knew that promise must be kept if

Ashley were to remain near her. One cry from her of love and

longing, one look that pleaded for his arms, and the matter would

be settled forever. Ashley would surely go to New York. And he

must not go away.

"Oh, Ashley, don't blame yourself! How could it be your fault?

You will come to Atlanta and help me, won't you?"

"No."

"But, Ashley," her voice was beginning to break with anguish and

disappointment, "But I'd counted on you. I do need you so. Frank

can't help me. He's so busy with the store and if you don't come I

don't know where I can get a man! Everybody in Atlanta who is

smart is busy with his own affairs and the others are so

incompetent and--"

"It's no use, Scarlett."

"You mean you'd rather go to New York and live among Yankees than

come to Atlanta?"

"Who told you that?" He turned and faced her, faint annoyance

wrinkling his forehead.

"Will."

"Yes, I've decided to go North. An old friend who made the Grand

Tour with me before the war has offered me a position in his

father's bank. It's better so, Scarlett. I'd be no good to you.

I know nothing of the lumber business."

"But you know less about banking and it's much harder! And I know

I'd make far more allowances for your inexperience than Yankees

would!"

He winced and she knew she had said the wrong thing. He turned and

looked out of the window again.

"I don't want allowances made for me. I want to stand on my own

feet for what I'm worth. What have I done with my life, up till

now? It's time I made something of myself--or went down through my

own fault. I've been your pensioner too long already."

"But I'm offering you a half-interest in the mill, Ashley! You

would be standing on your own feet because--you see, it would be

your own business."

"It would amount to the same thing. I'd not be buying the half-

interest. I'd be taking it as a gift. And I've taken too many

gifts from you already, Scarlett--food and shelter and even clothes

for myself and Melanie and the baby. And I've given you nothing in

return."

"Oh, but you have! Will couldn't have--"

"I can split kindling very nicely now."

"Oh, Ashley!" she cried despairingly, tears in her eyes at the

jeering note in his voice. "What has happened to you since I've

been gone? You sound so hard and bitter! You didn't used to be

this way."

"What's happened? A very remarkable thing, Scarlett. I've been

thinking. I don't believe I really thought from the time of the

surrender until you went away from here. I was in a state of

suspended animation and it was enough that I had something to eat

and a bed to lie on. But when you went to Atlanta, shouldering a

man's burden, I saw myself as much less than a man--much less,