Through the wide bay window on the landing, she could see the men still lounging in their chairs under the trees and in the shade of the arbor. How she envied them!How wonderful to be a man and never have to undergo miseries such as she had just passed through.As she stood watching them, hot eyed and dizzy, she heard the rapid pounding of a horse's hooves on the front drive, the scattering of gravel and the sound of an excited voice calling a question to one of the negroes.The gravel flew again and across her vision a man on horseback galloped over the green lawn toward the lazy group under the trees.
Some late-come guest, but why did he ride his horse across the turf that was India's pride?She could not recognize him, but as he flung himself from the saddle and clutched John Wilkes'arm, she could see that there was excitement in every line of him. The crowd swarmed about him, tall glasses and palmetto fans abandoned on tables and on the ground.In spite of the distance, she could hear the hubbub of voices, questioning, calling, feel the fever-pitch tenseness of the men.Then above the confused sounds Stuart Tarleton's voice rose, in an exultant shout,“Yee-aay-ee!”as if he were on the hunting field.And she heard for the first time, without knowing it, the Rebel yell.
As she watched, the four Tarletons followed by the Fontaine boys broke from the group and began hurrying toward the stable, yelling as they ran,“Jeems!You, Jeems!Saddle the horses!”
“Somebody's house must have caught fire,”Scarlett thoug ht. But fire or no fire, her job was to get herself back into the bedroom before she was discovered.
Her heart was quieter now and she tiptoed up the steps into the silent hall. A heavy warm somnolence lay over the house, as if it slept at ease like the girls, until night when it would burst into irs full beauty with music and candle flames.Carefully, she eased open the door of the dressing room and slipped in.Her hand was behind her, still holding the knob, when Honey Wilkes'voice, low pitched, almost in a whisper, came to her through the crack of the opposite door leading into the bedroom.
“I think Scarlett acted as fast as a girl could act today.”
Scarlet felt her heart begin its mad racing again and she clutched her hand against it unconsciously, as if she would squeeze it into submission.“Eavesdroppers often hear highly instructive things,”jibed a memory. Should she slip out again?Or make herself known and embarrass Honey as she deserved?But the next voice made her pause.A team of mules could not have dragged her away when she heard Melanie's voice.
“Oh, Honey, no!Don't be unkind. She's just high spirited and vivacious.I thought her most charming.”
“Oh,”thought Scarlett, clawing her nails into her basque.“To have that mealymouthed little mess take up for me!”
It was harder to hear than Honey's out-and-out cattiness. Scarlett had never trusted any woman and had never credited any woman except her mother with motives other than selfish ones.Melanie knew she had Ashley securely, so she could well afford to show such a Christian spirit.Scarlett felt it was just Melanie's way of parading her conquest and getting credit for being sweet at the same time.Scarlett had frequently used the same trick herself when discussing other girls with men, and it had never failed to convince foolish males of her sweetness and unselfishness.
“Well, Miss,”said Honey tartly, her voice rising,“you must be blind.”
“Hush, Honey,”hissed the voice of Sally Munroe.“They'll hear you all over the house!”
Honey lowered her voice but went on.
“Well, you saw how she was carrying on with every man she could get hold of—even Mr. Kennedy and he's her own sister's beau.I never saw the like!And she certainly was going after Charles.”Honey giggled selfconsciously.“And you know, Charles and I—”
“Are you really?”whispered voices excitedly.
“Well, don't tell anybody, girls—not yet!”
There were more gigglings and the bed springs creaked as someone squeezed Honey. Melanie murmured something about how happy she was that Honey would be her sister.
“Well, I won't be happy to have Scarlett for my sister, because she's a fast piece if ever I saw one,”came the aggrieved voice of Hetty Tarleton.“But she's as good as engaged to Stuart. Brent says she doesn't give a rap about him, but, of course, Brent's crazy about her, too.”
“If you should ask me,”said Honey with mysterious importance,“there's only one person she does give a rap about. And that's Ashley!”
As the whisperings merged together violently, questioning, interrupting, Scarlett felt herself go cold with fear and humiliation. Honey was a fool, a simpleton about men, but she had a feminine instinct about other women that Scarlett had underestimated.The mortification and hurt pride that she had suffered in the library with Ashley and with Rhett Butler were pin pricks to this.Men could be trusted to keep their mouths shut, even men like Mr.Butler, but with Honey Wilkes giving tongue like a hound in the field, the entire County would know about it before six o'clock.And Gerald had said only last night that he wouldn't be having the County laughing at his daughter.And how they would all laugh now!Clammy perspiration, starting under her armpits, began to creep down her ribs.
Melanie's voice, measured and peaceful, a little reproving, rose above the others.
“Honey, you know that isn't so. And it's so unkind.”
“It is too, Melly, and if you weren't always so busy looking for the good in people that haven't got any good in them, you'd see it. And I'm glad it's so.It serves her right.All Scarlett O'Hara has ever done has been to stir up troubleand try to get other girls’beaux.You know mighty well she took Stuart from India and she didn't want him.And today she tried to take Mr.Kennedy and Ashley and Charles—”
“I must get home!”thought Scarlett.“I must get home!”