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ces looked pinched and the few soldiers Scarlett saw wore the exhausted look of racers forcing themselves on through the last lap of a race already lost。
The last day of August came and with it convincing rumors that the fiercest fighting since the battle of Atlanta was taking place。 Somewhere to the south。 Atlanta； waiting for news of the turn of battle； stopped even trying to laugh and joke。 Everyone knew now what the soldiers had known two weeks before—that Atlanta was in the last ditch； that if the Macon railroad fell； Atlanta would fall too。
On the morning of the first of September； Scarlett awoke with a suffocating sense of dread upon her； a dread she had taken to her pillow the night before。 She thought； dulled with sleep： “What was it I was worrying about when I went to bed last night？ Oh； yes； the fighting。 There was a battle； somewhere； yesterday！ Oh； who won？” She sat up hastily； rubbing her eyes； and her worried heart took up yesterday’s load again。
The air was oppressive even in the early morning hour； hot with the scorching promise of a noon of glaring blue sky and pitiless bronze sun。 The road outside lay silent No wagons creaked by。 No troops raised the red dust with their tramping feet。 There were no sounds of negroes’ lazy voices in neighboring kitchens； no pleasant sounds of breakfasts being prepared； for all the near neighbors except Mrs。 Meade and Mrs。 Merriwether had refugeed to Macon。 And she could hear nothing from their houses either。 Farther down the street the business section was quiet and many of the stores and offices were locked and boarded up； while their occupants were somewhere about the countryside with rifles in their hands。
The stillness that greeted her seemed even more sinister this morning than on any of the mornings of the queer quiet week preceding it。 She rose hastily； without her usual preliminary burrowings and stretchings； and went to the window； hoping to see some neighbor’s face； some heartening sight。 But the road was empty。 She noted how the leaves on the trees were still dark green but dry and heavily coated with red dust； and how withered and sad the untended flowers in the front yard looked。
As she stood； looking out of the window； there came to her ears a far…off sound； faint and sullen as the first distant thunder of an approaching storm。
“Rain；” she thought in the first moment； and her country…bred mind added； “we certainly need it。” But； in a split instant： “Rain？ No！ Not rain！ Cannon！”
Her heart racing； she leaned from the window； her ear cocked to the far…off roaring； trying to discover from which direction it came。 But the dim thundering was so distant that； for a moment； she could not tell。 “Make it from Marietta； Lord！” she prayed。 “Or Decatur。 Or Peachtree Creek。 But not from the south！ Not from the south！” She gripped the window still tighter and strained her ears and the far…away booming seemed louder。 And it was coming from the south。
Cannon to the south！ And to the south lay Jonesboro and Tara—and Ellen。
Yankees perhaps at Tara； now； this minute！ She listened again but the blood thudding in her ears all but blurred out the sound of far…off firing。 No； they couldn’t be at Jonesboro yet。 If they were that far away； the sound would be fainter； more indistinct。 But they must be at least ten miles down the road toward Jonesboro； probably near the little settlement of Rough and Ready。 But Jonesboro was scarcely more than ten miles below Rough and Ready。
Cannon to the south； and they might be tolling the knell of Atlanta’s fall。 But to Scarlett； sick for her mother’s safety； fighting to the south only meant fighting near Tara。 She walked the floor and wrung her hands and for the first time the thought in all its implications came to her that the gray army might be defeated。 It was the thought of Sherman’s thousands so close to Tara that brought it all home to her； brought the full horror of the war to her as no sound of siege guns shattering windowpanes； no privations of food and clothing and no endless rows of dying men had done。 Sherman’s army within a few miles of Tara！ And even if the Yankees should be defeated； they might fall back down the road to Tara。 And Gerald couldn’t possibly refugee out of their way with three sick women。
Oh； if she were only there now； Yankees or not She paced the floor in her bare feet； her nightgown clinging to her legs and the more she walked the stronger became her foreboding。 She wanted to be at home。 She wanted to be near Ellen。
From the kitchen below； she heard the rattle of china as Prissy prepared breakfast； but no sound of Mrs。 Meade’s Betsy。 The shrill； melancholy minor of Prissy was raised； “Jes’ a few mo’ days； ter tote de wee…ry load 。。。” The song grated on Scarlett； its sad implications frightening her； and slipping on a wrapper she pattered out into the hall and to the back stairs and shouted： “Shut up that singing； Prissy！”
A sullen “Yas’m” drifted up to her and she drew a deep breath； feeling suddenly ashamed of herself。
“Where’s Betsy？”
“Ah doan know。 She ain’ came。”
Scarlett walked to Melanie’s door and opened it a crack； peering into the sunny room。 Melanie lay in bed in her nightgown； her eyes closed and circled with black； her heart…shaped face bloated； her slender body hideous and distorted。 Scarlett wished viciously that Ashley could see her now。 She looked worse than any pregnant woman she had ever seen。 As she looked； Melanie’s eyes opened and a soft warm smile lit her face。
“Come in；” she invited； turning awkwardly on her side。 “I’ve been awake since sun…up thinking； and； Scarlett； there’s something I want to ask you。”
She entered the room and sat down on the bed that was glaring with harsh sunshine。
Melanie reached out and took Scarlett’s hand in a gentle confiding clasp。
“Dear；” she said； “I’m sorry about the cannon。 It’s toward Jonesboro； isn’t it？”
Scarlett said “Um；” her heart beginning to beat faster as the thought recurred。
“I know how worried you are。 I know you’d have gone home last week when you heard about your mother； if it hadn’t been for me。 Wouldn’t you？”
“Yes；” said Scarlett ungraciously。
“Scarlett； darling。 You’ve been so good to me。 No sister could have been sweeter or braver。 And I love you for it。 I’m so sorry I’m in the way。”
Scarlett stared。 Loved her； did she？ The fool！
“And Scarlett； I’ve been lying here thinking and I want to ask a very great favor of you。” Her clasp tightened。 “If I should die； will you take my baby？”
Melanie’s eyes were wide and bright with soft urgency。
“Will you？”
Scarlett jerked away her hand as fear swamped her。 Fear roughened her voice as she spoke。
“Oh； don’t be a goose； Melly。 You aren’t going to die。 Every woman thinks she’s going to die with her first baby。 I know I did。”
“No； you didn’t You’ve never been afraid of anything。 You are just saying that to try to cheer me up。 I’m not afraid to die but I’m so afraid to leave the baby； if Ashley is— Scarlett； promise me that you’ll take my baby if I should die。 Then I won’t be afraid。 Aunt Pittypat is too old to raise a child and Hone