It in. Melanie could not die. It was impossible for her to die.

God wouldn't let her die when she, Scarlett, needed her so much.

Never before had it occurred to her that she needed Melanie. But

now, the truth surged in, down to the deepest recesses of her soul.

She had relied on Melanie, even as she had relied upon herself, and

she had never known it. Now, Melanie was dying and Scarlett knew

she could not get along without her. Now, as she tiptoed across

the room toward the quiet figure, panic clutching at her heart, she

knew that Melanie had been her sword and her shield, her comfort

and her strength.

"I must hold her! I can't let her get away!" she thought and sank

beside the bed with a rustle of skirts. Hastily she grasped the

limp hand lying on the coverlet and was frightened anew by its

chill.

"It's me, Melly," she said.

Melanie's eyes opened a slit and then, as if having satisfied

herself that it was really Scarlett, she closed them again. After

a pause she drew a breath and whispered:

"Promise me?"

"Oh, anything!"

"Beau--look after him."

Scarlett could only nod, a strangled feeling in her throat, and she

gently pressed the hand she held by way of assent.

"I give him to you." There was the faintest trace of a smile. "I

gave him to you, once before--'member?--before he was born."

Did she remember? Could she ever forget that time? Almost as

clearly as if that dreadful day had returned, she could feel the

stifling heat of the September noon, remembering her terror of the

Yankees, hear the tramp of the retreating troops, recall Melanie's

Voice begging her to take the baby should she die--remember, too,

how she had hated Melanie that day and hoped that she would die.

"I've killed her," she thought, in superstitious agony. "I wished

so often she would die and God heard me and is punishing me."

"Oh, Melly, don't talk like that! You know you'll pull through

this--"

"No. Promise."

Scarlett gulped.

"You know I promise. I'll treat him like he was my own boy."

"College?" asked Melanie's faint flat voice.

"Oh, yes! The university and Harvard and Europe and anything he

wants--and--and--a pony--and music lessons-- Oh, please, Melly, do

try! Do make an effort!"

The silence fell again and on Melanie's face there were signs of a

struggle to gather strength to speak.

"Ashley," she said. "Ashley and you--" Her voice faltered into

stillness.

At the mention of Ashley's name, Scarlett's heart stood still, cold

as granite within her. Melanie had known all the time. Scarlett

dropped her head on the coverlet and a sob that would not rise

caught her throat with a cruel hand. Melanie knew. Scarlett was

beyond shame now, beyond any feeling save a wild remorse that she

had hurt this gentle creature throughout the long years. Melanie

had known--and yet, she had remained her loyal friend. Oh, if she

could only live those years over again! She would never even let

her eyes meet those of Ashley.

"O God," she prayed rapidly, "do, please, let her live! I'll make

It up to her. I'll be so good to her. I'll never even speak to

Ashley again as long as I live, if You'll only let her get well!"

"Ashley," said Melanie feebly and her fingers reached out to touch

Scarlett's bowed head. Her thumb and forefinger tugged with no

more strength than that of a baby at Scarlett's hair. Scarlett

knew what that meant, knew Melanie wanted her to look up. But she

could not, could not meet Melanie's eyes and read that knowledge in

them.

"Ashley," Melanie whispered again and Scarlett gripped herself.

When she looked God in the face on the Day of Judgment and read her

sentence in His eyes, it would not be as bad as this. Her soul

cringed but she raised her head.

She saw only the same dark loving eyes, sunken and drowsy with

death, the same tender mouth tiredly fighting pain for breath. No

reproach was there, no accusation and no fear--only an anxiety that

she might not find strength for words.

For a moment Scarlett was too stunned to even feel relief. Then,

as she held Melanie's hand more closely, a flood of warm gratitude

to God swept over her and, for the first time since her childhood,

she said a humble, unselfish prayer.

"Thank You, God. I know I'm not worth it but thank You for not

letting her know."

"What about Ashley, Melly?"

"You'll--look after him?"

"Oh, yes."

"He catches cold--so easily."

There was a pause.

"Look after--his business--you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. I will."

She made a great effort.

"Ashley isn't--practical."

Only death could have forced that disloyalty from Melanie.

"Look after him, Scarlett--but--don't ever let him know."

"I'll look after him and the business too, and I'll never let him

know. I'll just kind of suggest things to him."

Melanie managed a small smile but it was a triumphant one as her

eyes met Scarlett's again. Their glance sealed the bargain that

the protection of Ashley Wilkes from a too harsh world was passing

from one woman to another and that Ashley's masculine pride should

never be humbled by this knowledge.

Now the struggle went out of the tired face as though with

Scarlett's promise, ease had come to her.

"You're so smart--so brave--always been so good to me--"

At these words, the sob came freely to Scarlett's throat and she

clapped her hand over her mouth. Now, she was going to bawl like a

child and cry out: "I've been a devil! I've wronged you so! I

never did anything for you! It was all for Ashley."

She rose to her feet abruptly, sinking her teeth into her thumb to

regain her control. Rhett's words came back to her again, "She

loves you. Let that be your cross." Well, the cross was heavier

now. It was bad enough that she had tried by every art to take

Ashley from her. But now it was worse that Melanie, who had

trusted her blindly through life, was laying the same love and

trust on her in death. No, she could not speak. She could not

even say again: "Make an effort to live." She must let her go

easily, without a struggle, without tears, without sorrow.

The door opened slightly and Dr. Meade stood on the threshold,

beckoning imperiously. Scarlett bent over the bed, choking back

her tears and taking Melanie's hand, laid it against her cheek.

"Good night," she said, and her voice was steadier than she thought