It was as though the swift flood of his life had been diverted into

one narrow channel. Sometimes Scarlett thought that if Rhett had

given her one-half the attention and tenderness he lavished on

Bonnie, life would have been different. Sometimes it was hard to

smile when people said: "How Captain Butler idolizes that child!"

But, if she did not smile, people would think it strange and

Scarlett hated to acknowledge, even to herself, that she was

jealous of a little girl, especially when that little girl was her

favorite child. Scarlett always wanted to be first in the hearts

of those around her and it was obvious now that Rhett and Bonnie

would always be first with each other.

Rhett was out late many nights but he came home sober on these

nights. Often she heard him whistling softly to himself as he went

down the hall past her closed door. Sometimes men came home with

him in the late hours and sat talking in the dining room around the

brandy decanter. They were not the same men with whom he had drunk

the first year they were married. No rich Carpetbaggers, no

Scallawags, no Republicans came to the house now at his invitation.

Scarlett, creeping on tiptoe to the banister of the upstairs hall,

listened and, to her amazement, frequently heard the voices of Rene

Picard, Hugh Elsing, the Simmons boys and Andy Bonnell. And always

Grandpa Merriwether and Uncle Henry were there. Once, to her

astonishment, she heard the tones of Dr. Meade. And these men had

once thought hanging too good for Rhett!

This group was always linked in her mind with Frank's death, and

the late hours Rhett kept these days reminded her still more of the

times preceding the Klan foray when Frank lost his life. She

remembered with dread Rhett's remark that he would even join their

damned Klan to be respectable, though he hoped God would not lay so

heavy a penance on his shoulders. Suppose Rhett, like Frank--

One night when he was out later than usual she could stand the

strain no longer. When she heard the rasp of his key in the lock,

she threw on a wrapper and, going into the gas lit upper hall, met

him at the top of the stairs. His expression, absent, thoughtful,

changed to surprise when he saw her standing there.

"Rhett, I've got to know! I've got to know if you--if it's the

Klan--is that why you stay out so late? Do you belong--"

In the flaring gas light he looked at her incuriously and then he

smiled.

"You are way behind the times," he said. "There is no Klan in

Atlanta now. Probably not in Georgia. You've been listening to

the Klan outrage stories of your Scallawag and Carpetbagger

friends."

"No Klan? Are you lying to try to soothe me?"

"My dear, when did I ever try to soothe you? No, there is no Klan

now. We decided that it did more harm than good because it just

kept the Yankees stirred up and furnished more grist for the

slander mill of his excellency, Governor Bullock. He knows he can

stay in power just so long as he can convince the Federal

government and the Yankee newspapers that Georgia is seething with

rebellion and there's a Klansman hiding behind every bush. To keep