Virginia," she said, and she did not trouble to lower her voice.

Several of the proud mothers of members of the militia were

standing close by and overheard the remark. Mrs. Guinan turned

scarlet and then white, for her twenty-five-year-old Willie was in

the company.

Scarlett was aghast at such words coming from Melly of all people.

"Why, Melly!"

"You know it's true, Scarlet. I don't mean the little boys and

the old gentlemen. But a lot of the militia are perfectly able to

tote a rifle and that's what they ought to be doing this minute."

"But--but--" began Scarlett, who had never considered the matter

before. "Somebody's got to stay home to--" What was it Willie

Guinan had told her by way of excusing his presence in Atlanta?

"Somebody's got to stay home to protect the state from invasion."

"Nobody's invading us and nobody's going to," said Melly coolly,

looking toward a group of the militia. "And the best way to keep

out invaders is to go to Virginia and beat the Yankees there. And

as for all this talk about the militia staying here to keep the

darkies from rising--why, it's the silliest thing I ever heard of.

Why should our people rise? It's just a good excuse for cowards.

I'll bet we could lick the Yankees in a month if all the militia

of all the states went to Virginia. So there!"

"Why, Melly!" cried Scarlett again, staring.

Melly's soft dark eyes were flashing angrily. "My husband wasn't

afraid to go and neither was yours. And I'd rather they'd both be

dead than here at home-- Oh, darling, I'm sorry. How thoughtless

and cruel of me!"

She stroked Scarlett's arm appealingly and Scarlett stared at her.

But it was not of dead Charles she was thinking. It was of

Ashley. Suppose he too were to die? She turned quickly and

smiled automatically as Dr. Meade walked up to their booth.

"Well, girls," he greeted them, "it was nice of you to come. I

know what a sacrifice it must have been for you to come out

tonight. But it's all for the Cause. And I'm going to tell you a

secret. I've a surprise way for making some more money tonight

for the hospital, but I'm afraid some of the ladies are going to

be shocked about it."

He stopped and chuckled as he tugged at his gray goatee.

"Oh, what? Do tell!"

"On second thought I believe I'll keep you guessing, too. But you

girls must stand up for me if the church members want to run me

out of town for doing it. However, it's for the hospital. You'll

see. Nothing like this has ever been done before."

He went off pompously toward a group of chaperons in one corner,

and just as the two girls had turned to each other to discuss the

possibilities of the secret, two old gentlemen bore down on the

booth, declaring in loud voices that they wanted ten miles of

tatting. Well, after all, old gentlemen were better than no

gentlemen at all, thought Scarlett, measuring out the tatting and

submitting demurely to being chucked under the chin. The old

blades charged off toward the lemonade booth and others took their

places at the counter. Their booth did not have so many customers

as did the other booths where the tootling laugh of Maybelle

Merriwether sounded and Fanny Elsing's giggles and the Whiting

girls' repartee made merriment. Melly sold useless stuff to men

who could have no possible use for it as quietly and serenely as a

shopkeeper, and Scarlett patterned her conduct on Melly's.

There were crowds in front of every other counter but theirs,

girls chattering, men buying. The few who came to them talked

about how they went to the university with Ashley and what a fine

soldier he was or spoke in respectful tones of Charles and how

great a loss to Atlanta his death had been.

Then the music broke into the rollicking strains of "Johnny

Booker, he'p dis Nigger!" and Scarlett thought she would scream.

She wanted to dance. She wanted to dance. She looked across the

floor and tapped her foot to the music and her green eyes blazed

so eagerly that they fairly snapped. All the way across the

floor, a man, newly come and standing in the doorway, saw them,

started in recognition and watched closely the slanting eyes in

the sulky, rebellious face. Then he grinned to himself as he

recognized the invitation that any male could read.

He was dressed in black broadcloth, a tall man, towering over the

officers who stood near him, bulky in the shoulders but tapering

to a small waist and absurdly small feet in varnished boots. His

severe black suit, with fine ruffled shirt and trousers smartly

strapped beneath high insteps, was oddly at variance with his

physique and face, for he was foppishly groomed, the clothes of a

dandy on a body that was powerful and latently dangerous in its

lazy grace. His hair was jet black, and his black mustache was

small and closely clipped, almost foreign looking compared with

the dashing, swooping mustaches of the cavalrymen near by. He

looked, and was, a man of lusty and unashamed appetites. He had

an air of utter assurance, of displeasing insolence about him, and

there was a twinkle of malice in his bold eyes as he stared at

Scarlett, until finally, feeling his gaze, she looked toward him.

Somewhere in her mind, the bell of recognition rang, but for the

moment she could not recall who he was. But he was the first man

in months who had displayed an interest in her, and she threw him

a gay smile. She made a little curtsy as he bowed, and then, as

he straightened and started toward her with a peculiarly lithe

Indian-like gait, her hand went to her mouth in horror, for she

knew who he was.

Thunderstruck, she stood as if paralyzed while he made his way

through the crowd. Then she turned blindly, bent on flight into

the refreshment rooms, but her skirt caught on a nail of the

booth. She jerked furiously at it, tearing it and, in an instant,

he was beside her.

"Permit me," he said bending over and disentangling the flounce.

"I hardly hoped that you would recall me, Miss O'Hara."

His voice was oddly pleasant to the ear, the well-modulated voice

of a gentleman, resonant and overlaid with the flat slow drawl of

the Charlestonian.

She looked up at him imploringly, her face crimson with the shame

of their last meeting, and met two of the blackest eyes she had

ever seen, dancing in merciless merriment. Of all the people in

the world to turn up here, this terrible person who had witnessed

that scene with Ashley which still gave her nightmares; this

odious wretch who ruined girls and was not received by nice

people; this despicable man who had said, and with good cause,

that she was not a lady.

At the sound of his voice, Melanie turned and for the first time

in her life Scarlett thanked God for the existence of her sister-

in-law.

"Why--it's--it's Mr. Rhett Butler, isn't it?" said Melanie with a

little smile, putting out her hand. "I met you--"

"On the happy occasion of the announcement of your betrothal," he

finished, bending over her hand. "It is kind of you to recall

me."

"And what are you doing so far from Charleston, Mr. Butler?"

"A boring matter of business, Mrs. Wilkes. I will be in and out

of your town from now on. I find I must not only bring in goods

but see to the disposal of them."

"Bring in--" began Melly, her brow wrinkling, and then she broke

into a delighted smile. "Why, you--you must be the famous Captain

Butler we've been hearing so much about--the blockade runner.

Why, every girl here is wearing dresses you brought in. Scarlett,

aren't you thrilled--what's the matter, dear? Are you faint? Do

sit down."

Scarlett sank to the stool, her breath coming so rapidly she

feared the lacings of her stays would burst. Oh, what a terrible

thing to happen! She had never thought to meet this man again.

He picked up her black fan from the counter and began fanning her

solicitously, too solicitously, his face grave but his eyes still

dancing.

"It is quite warm in here," he said. "No wonder Miss O'Hara is

faint. May I lead you to a window?"

"No," said Scarlett, so rudely that Melly stared.

"She is not Miss O'Hara any longer," said Melly. "She is Mrs.

Hamilton. She is my sister now," and Melly bestowed one of her

fond little glances on her. Scarlett felt that she would strangle

at the expression on Captain Butler's swarthy piratical face.

"I am sure that is a great gain to two charming ladies," said he,

making a slight bow. That was the kind of remark all men made,

but when he said it it seemed to her that he meant just the

opposite.

"Your husbands are here tonight, I trust, on this happy occasion?