In and lay herself on one of the beds beside the sleeping girls.

She tried to quiet her heart and fix her face into more composed

lines, for she knew she must look like a crazy woman. If any of

the girls were awake, they'd know something was wrong. And no one

must ever, ever know that anything had happened.

Through the wide bay window on the lawn 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 thought. 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

its 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."

Scarlett 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 bear 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 self-consciously. "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

Hefty 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,