It was one of the few times she had ever seen him with his mask

off, his face hard with honest hatred for his father and distress

for his mother.

"Aunt 'Lalie! But, good Heavens, Rhett, she hasn't got anything

much above what I send her!"

"Ah, so that's where it comes from! How ill bred of you, my dear,

to brag of such a thing in the face of my humiliation. You must

let me reimburse you!"

"With pleasure," said Scarlett, her mouth suddenly twisting into a

grin, and he smiled back.

"Ah, Scarlett, how the thought of a dollar does make your eyes

sparkle! Are you sure you haven't some Scotch or perhaps Jewish

blood as well as Irish?"

"Don't be hateful! I didn't mean to throw it in your face about

Aunt 'Lalie. But honestly, she thinks I'm made of money. She's

always writing me for more and, God knows, I've got enough on my

hands without supporting all of Charleston. What did your father

die of?"

"Genteel starvation, I think--and hope. It served him right. He

was willing to let Mother and Rosemary starve with him. Now that

he's dead, I can help them. I've bought them a house on the

Battery and they've servants to look after them. But of course,

they couldn't let it be known that the money came from me."

"Why not?"

"My dear, surely you know Charleston! You've visited there. My

family may be poor but they have a position to uphold. And they

couldn't uphold it if it were known that gambling money and

speculator's money and Carpetbag money was behind it. No, they

gave it out that Father left an enormous life insurance--that he'd

beggared himself and starved himself to death to keep up the

payments, so that after he died, they'd be provided for. So he is

looked upon as an even greater gentleman of the old school than

before. . . . In fact, a martyr to his family. I hope he's

turning in his grave at the knowledge that Mother and Rosemary are

comfortable now, in spite of his efforts. . . . In a way, I'm

sorry he's dead because he wanted to die--was so glad to die."

"Why?"

"Oh, he really died when Lee surrendered. You know the type. He

never could adjust himself to the new times and spent his time

talking about the good old days."

"Rhett, are all old folks like that?" She was thinking of Gerald

and what Will had said about him.

"Heavens, no! Just look at your Uncle Henry and that old wild cat,

Mr. Merriwether, just to name two. They took a new lease on life

when they marched out with the Home Guard and it seems to me that

they've gotten younger and more peppery ever since. I met old man

Merriwether this morning driving Rene's pie wagon and cursing the

horse like an army mule skinner. He told me he felt ten years

younger since he escaped from the house and his daughter-in-law's

coddling and took to driving the wagon. And your Uncle Henry

enjoys fighting the Yankees in court and out and defending the

widow and the orphan--free of charge, I fear--against the

Carpetbaggers. If there hadn't been a war, he'd have retired long

ago and nursed his rheumatism. They're young again because they

are of use again and feel that they are needed. And they like this

new day that gives old men another chance. But there are plenty of

people, young people, who feel like my father and your father.

They can't and won't adjust and that brings me to the unpleasant

subject I want to discuss with you, Scarlett."

His sudden shift so disconcerted her that she stammered: "What--

what--" and inwardly groaned: "Oh, Lord! Now, it's coming. I

wonder if I can butter him down?"

"I shouldn't have expected either truth or honor or fair dealing

from you, knowing you as I do. But foolishly, I trusted you."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do. At any rate, you look very guilty. As I was

riding along Ivy Street a while ago, on my way to call on you, who

should hail me from behind a hedge but Mrs. Ashley Wilkes! Of

course, I stopped and chatted with her."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, we had an enjoyable talk. She told me she had always wanted

to let me know how brave she thought I was to have struck a blow

for the Confederacy, even at the eleventh hour."

"Oh, fiddle-dee-dee! Melly's a fool. She might have died that

night because you acted so heroic."

"I imagine she would have thought her life given in a good cause.

And when I asked her what she was doing in Atlanta she looked quite

surprised at my ignorance and told me that they were living here

now and that you had been kind enough to make Mr. Wilkes a partner