If he laughed at her she would die, right then. But he did not

laugh.

"You are pretty healthy--and maybe there isn't any hell after all."

"Oh, but there is, Rhett! You know there is!"

"I know there is but it's right here on earth. Not after we die.

There's nothing after we die, Scarlett. You are having your hell

now."

"Oh, Rhett, that's blasphemous!"

"But singularly comforting. Tell me, why are you going to hell?"

He was teasing now, she could see the glint in his eyes but she did

not mind. His hands felt so warm and strong, so comforting to

cling to.

"Rhett, I oughtn't to have married Frank. It was wrong. He was

Suellen's beau and he loved her, not me. But I lied to him and

told him she was going to marry Tony Fontaine. Oh, how could I

have done it?"

"Ah, so that was how it came about! I always wondered."

"And then I made him so miserable. I made him do all sorts of

things he didn't want to do, like making people pay their bills

when they really couldn't afford to pay them. And it hurt him so

when I ran the mills and built the saloon and leased convicts. He

could hardly hold up his head for shame. And Rhett, I killed him.

Yes, I did! I didn't know he was in the Klan. I never dreamed he

had that much gumption. But I ought to have known. And I killed

him."

"'Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my

hand?'"

"What?"

"No matter. Go on."

"Go on? That's all. Isn't it enough? I married him, I made him

unhappy and I killed him. Oh, my God! I don't see how I could

have done it! I lied to him and I married him. It all seemed so

right when I did it but now I see how wrong it was. Rhett, it

doesn't seem like it was me who did all these things. I was so

mean to him but I'm not really mean. I wasn't raised that way.

Mother--" She stopped and swallowed. She had avoided thinking of

Ellen all day but she could no longer blot out her image.

"I often wondered what she was like. You seemed to me so like your

father."

"Mother was-- Oh, Rhett, for the first time I'm glad she's dead,

so she can't see me. She didn't raise me to be mean. She was so

kind to everybody, so good. She'd rather I'd have starved than

done this. And I so wanted to be just like her in every way and

I'm not like her one bit. I hadn't thought of that--there's been

so much else to think about--but I wanted to be like her. I didn't

want to be like Pa. I loved him but he was--so--so thoughtless.

Rhett, sometimes I did try so hard to be nice to people and kind to

Frank, but then the nightmare would come back and scare me so bad

I'd want to rush out and just grab money away from people, whether

it was mine or not."

Tears were streaming unheeded down her face and she clutched his

hand so hard that her nails dug into his flesh.

"What nightmare?" His voice was calm and soothing.

"Oh--I forgot you didn't know. Well, just when I would try to be

nice to folks and tell myself that money wasn't everything, I'd go

to bed and dream that I was back at Tara right after Mother died,

right after the Yankees went through. Rhett, you can't imagine--I

get cold when I think about it. I can see how everything is burned

and so still and there's nothing to eat. Oh, Rhett, in my dream

I'm hungry again."

"Go on."

"I'm hungry and everybody, Pa and the girls and the darkies, are

starving and they keep saying over and over: 'We're hungry' and

I'm so empty it hurts, and so frightened. My mind keeps saying:

'If I ever get out of this, I'll never, never be hungry again' and

then the dream goes off into a gray mist and I'm running, running

in the mist, running so hard my heart's about to burst and

something is chasing me, and I can't breathe but I keep thinking

that if I can just get there, I'll be safe. But I don't know where

I'm trying to get to. And then I'd wake up and I'd be cold with

fright and so afraid that I'd be hungry again. When I wake up from

that dream, it seems like there's not enough money in the world to

keep me from being afraid of being hungry again. And then Frank

would be so mealy mouthed and slow poky that he would make me mad

and I'd lose my temper. He didn't understand, I guess, and I

couldn't make him understand. I kept thinking that I'd make it up

to him some day when we had money and I wasn't so afraid of being

hungry. And now he's dead and it's too late. Oh, it seemed so

right when I did it but it was all so wrong. If I had it to do

over again, I'd do it so differently."

"Hush," he said, disentangling her frantic grip and pulling a clean

handkerchief from his pocket. "Wipe your face. There is no sense

in your tearing yourself to pieces this way."

She took the handkerchief and wiped her damp cheeks, a little

relief stealing over her as if she had shifted some of her burden

to his broad shoulders. He looked so capable and calm and even the

slight twist of his mouth was comforting as though it proved her

agony and confusion unwarranted.

"Feel better now? Then let's get to the bottom of this. You say

if you had it to do over again, you'd do it differently. But would

you? Think, now. Would you?"

"Well--"

"No, you'd do the same things again. Did you have any other

choice?"

"No."

"Then what are you sorry about?"

"I was so mean and now he's dead."

"And if he wasn't dead, you'd still be mean. As I understand it,

you are not really sorry for marrying Frank and bullying him and

inadvertently causing his death. You are only sorry because you

are afraid of going to hell. Is that right?"

"Well--that sounds so mixed up."

"Your ethics are considerably mixed up too. You are in the exact

position of a thief who's been caught red handed and isn't sorry he

stole but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail."

"A thief--"

"Oh, don't be so literal! In other words if you didn't have this

silly idea that you were damned to hell fire eternal, you'd think

you were well rid of Frank."

"Oh, Rhett!"

"Oh, come! You are confessing and you might as well confess the

truth as a decorous lie. Did your--er--conscience bother you much

when you offered to--shall we say--part with that jewel which is

dearer than life for three hundred dollars?"

The brandy was spinning in her head now and she felt giddy and a

little reckless. What was the use in lying to him? He always

seemed to read her mind.

"I really didn't think about God much then--or hell. And when I

did think--well, I just reckoned God would understand."

"But you don't credit God with understanding why you married

Frank?"

"Rhett, how can you talk so about God when you know you don't

believe there is one?"

"But you believe in a God of Wrath and that's what's important at

present. Why shouldn't the Lord understand? Are you sorry you

still own Tara and there aren't Carpetbaggers living there? Are

you sorry you aren't hungry and ragged?"

"Oh, no!"

"Well, did you have any alternative except marrying Frank?"

"No."

"He didn't have to marry you, did he? Men are free agents. And he

didn't have to let you bully him into doing things he didn't want

to, did he?"

"Well--"

"Scarlett, why worry about it? If you had it to do over again you

would be driven to the lie and he to marrying you. You would still

have run yourself into danger and he would have had to avenge you.