Value it all the more. Put it on me, my dear. The boys will be

green with envy when they see me in the glory of my new coat and

sash."

She wrapped the bright lengths about his slender waist, above his

belt, and tied the ends in a lover's knot. Melanie might have

given him his new coat but this sash was her gift, her own secret

guerdon for him to wear into battle, something that would make him

remember her every time he looked at it. She stood back and viewed

him with pride, thinking that even Jeb Stuart with his flaunting

sash and plume could not look so dashing as her cavalier.

"It's beautiful," he repeated, fingering the fringe. "But I know

you've cut up a dress or a shawl to make it. You shouldn't have

done it, Scarlett. Pretty things are too hard to get these days."

"Oh, Ashley, I'd--"

She had started to say: "I'd cut up my heart for you to wear if

you wanted it," but she finished, "I'd do anything for you!"

"Would you?" he questioned and some of the somberness lifted from

his face. "Then, there's something you can do for me, Scarlett,

something that will make my mind easier when I'm away."

"What is it?" she asked joyfully, ready to promise prodigies.

"Scarlett, will you look after Melanie for me?"

"Look after Melly?"

Her heart sank with bitter disappointment. So this was something

beautiful, something spectacular! And then anger flared. This

moment was her moment with Ashley, hers alone. And yet, though

Melanie was absent, her pale shadow lay between them. How could he

bring up her name in their moment of farewell? How could he ask

such a thing of her?

He did not notice the disappointment on her face. As of old, his

eyes were looking through her and beyond her, at something else,

not seeing her at all.

"Yes, keep an eye on her, take care of her. She's so frail and she

doesn't realize it. She'll wear herself out nursing and sewing.

And she's so gentle and timid. Except for Aunt Pittypat and Uncle

Henry and you, she hasn't a close relative in the world, except the

Burrs in Macon and they're third cousins. And Aunt Pitty--

Scarlett, you know she's like a child. And Uncle Henry is an old

man. Melanie loves you so much, not just because you were

Charlie's wife, but because--well, because you're you and she loves

you like a sister. Scarlett, I have nightmares when I think what

might happen to her if I were killed and she had no one to turn to.

Will you promise?"

She did not even hear his last request, so terrified was she by

those ill-omened words, "if I were killed."

Every day she had read the casualty lists, read them with her heart

in her throat, knowing that the world would end if anything should

happen to him. But always, always, she had an inner feeling that

even if the Confederate Army were entirely wiped out, Ashley would

be spared. And now he had spoken the frightful words! Goose bumps

came out all over her and fear swamped her, a superstitious fear

she could not combat with reason. She was Irish enough to believe

in second sight, especially where death premonitions were

concerned, and in his wide gray eyes she saw some deep sadness

which she could only interpret as that of a man who has felt the

cold finger on his shoulder, has heard the wail of the Banshee.

"You mustn't say it! You mustn't even think it. It's bad luck to

speak of death! Oh, say a prayer, quickly!"

"You say it for me and light some candles, too," he said, smiling

at the frightened urgency in her voice.

But she could not answer, so stricken was she by the pictures her

mind was drawing, Ashley lying dead in the snows of Virginia, so

far away from her. He went on speaking and there was a quality in

his voice, a sadness, a resignation, that increased her fear until

every vestige of anger and disappointment was blotted out.

"I'm asking you for this reason, Scarlett. I cannot tell what will

happen to me or what will happen to any of us. But when the end

comes, I shall be far away from here, even if I am alive, too far

away to look out for Melanie."

"The--the end?"

"The end of the war--and the end of the world."

"But Ashley, surely you can't think the Yankees will beat us? All

this week you've talked about how strong General Lee--"

"All this week I've talked lies, like all men talk when they're on

furlough. Why should I frighten Melanie and Aunt Pitty before

there's any need for them to be frightened? Yes, Scarlett, I think

the Yankees have us. Gettysburg was the beginning of the end. The

people back home don't know it yet. They can't realize how things

stand with us, but--Scarlett, some of my men are barefooted now and

the snow is deep in Virginia. And when I see their poor frozen

feet, wrapped in rags and old sacks, and I see the blood prints

they leave in the snow, and know that I've got a whole pair of

boots--well, I feel like I should give mine away and be barefooted

too."

"Oh, Ashley, promise me you won't give them away!"

"When I see things like that and then look at the Yankees--then I

see the end of everything. Why Scarlett, the Yankees are buying

soldiers from Europe by the thousands! Most of the prisoners we've

taken recently can't even speak English. They're Germans and Poles

and wild Irishmen who talk Gaelic. But when we lose a man, he

can't be replaced. When our shoes wear out, there are no more

shoes. We're bottled up, Scarlett. And we can't fight the whole

world."

She thought wildly: Let the whole Confederacy crumble in the dust.

Let the world end, but you must not die! I couldn't live if you

were dead!

"I hope you will not repeat what I have said, Scarlett. I do not

want to alarm the others. And, my dear, I would not have alarmed

you by saying these things, were it not that I had to explain why I

ask you to look after Melanie. She's so frail and weak and you're

so strong, Scarlett. It will be a comfort to me to know that you

are together if anything happens to me. You will promise, won't

you?"

"Oh, yes!" she cried, for at that moment, seeing death at his

elbow, she would have promised anything. "Ashley, Ashley! I can't

let you go away! I simply can't be brave about it!"

"You must be brave," he said, and his voice changed subtly. It was

resonant, deeper, and his words fell swiftly as though hurried with

some inner urgency. "You must be brave. For how else can I stand

it?"

Her eyes sought his face quickly and with joy, wondering if he

meant that leaving her was breaking his heart, even as it was

breaking hers. His face was as drawn as when he came down from

bidding Melanie good-by, but she could read nothing in his eyes.

He leaned down, took her face in his hands, and kissed her lightly

on the forehead.

"Scarlett! Scarlett! You are so fine and strong and good. So

beautiful, not just your sweet face, my dear, but all of you, your

body and your mind and your soul."

"Oh, Ashley," she whispered happily, thrilling at his words and his

touch on her face. "Nobody else but you ever--"

"I like to think that perhaps I know you better than most people

and that I can see beautiful things buried deep in you that others

are too careless and too hurried to notice."

He stopped speaking and his hands dropped from her face, but his

eyes still clung to her eyes. She waited a moment, breathless for

him to continue, a-tiptoe to hear him say the magic three words.

But they did not come. She searched his face frantically, her lips

quivering, for she saw he had finished speaking.

This second blighting of her hopes was more than heart could bear

and she cried "Oh!" in a childish whisper and sat down, tears

stinging her eyes. Then she heard an ominous sound in the

driveway, outside the window, a sound that brought home to her even

more sharply the imminence of Ashley's departure. A pagan hearing

the lapping of the waters around Charon's boat could not have felt

more desolate. Uncle Peter, muffled in a quilt, was bringing out

the carriage to take Ashley to the train.

Ashley said "Good-by," very softly, caught up from the table the

wide felt hat she had inveigled from Rhett and walked into the dark

front hall. His hand on the doorknob, he turned and looked at her,

a long, desperate look, as if he wanted to carry away with him

every detail of her face and figure. Through a blinding mist of

tears she saw his face and with a strangling pain in her throat she

knew that he was going away, away from her care, away from the safe

haven of this house, and out of her life, perhaps forever, without

having spoken the words she so yearned to hear. Time was going by

like a mill race, and now it was too late. She ran stumbling

across the parlor and into the hall and clutched the ends of his

sash.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "Kiss me good-by."

His arms went around her gently, and he bent his head to her face.

At the first touch of his lips on hers, her arms were about his

neck in a strangling grip. For a fleeting immeasurable instant, he

pressed her body close to his. Then she felt a sudden tensing of

all his muscles. Swiftly, he dropped the hat to the floor and,

reaching up, detached her arms from his neck.

"No, Scarlett, no," he said in a low voice, holding her crossed

wrists in a grip that hurt.

"I love you," she said choking. "I've always loved you. I've

never loved anybody else. I just married Charlie to--to try to

hurt you. Oh, Ashley, I love you so much I'd walk every step of

the way to Virginia just to be near you! And I'd cook for you and

polish your boots and groom your horse--Ashley, say you love me!