按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
“When you were in Macon did you see India and Honey Wilkes？ Did they—had they heard anything of Ashley？”
“Now； Miss Melly； you know if I’d had news of Ashley； I’d have ridden up here from Macon right away to tell you；” said Frank reproachfully。 “No； they didn’t have any news but—now； don’t you fret about Ashley； Miss Melly。 I know it’s been a long time since you heard from him； but you can’t expect to hear from a fellow when he’s in prison； can you？ And things aren’t as bad in Yankee prisons as they are in ours。 After all； the Yankees have plenty to eat and enough medicines and blankets。 They aren’t like we are—not having enough to feed ourselves； much less our prisoners。”
“Oh； the Yankees have got plenty；” cried Melanie； passionately bitter。 “But they don’t give things to the prisoners。 You know they don’t； Mr。 Kennedy。 You are just saying that to make me feel better。 You know that our boys freeze to death up there and starve too and die without doctors and medicine； simply because the Yankees hate us so much！ Oh； if we could just wipe every Yankee off the face of the earth！ Oh； I know that Ashley is—”
“Don’t say it！” cried Scarlett； her heart in her throat。 As long as no one said Ashley was dead； there persisted in her heart a faint hope that he lived； but she felt that if she heard the words pronounced； in that moment he would die。
“Now； Mrs。 Wilkes； don’t you bother about your husband；” said the one…eyed man soothingly。 “I was captured after first Manassas and exchanged later and when I was in prison； they fed me off the fat of the land； fried chicken and hot biscuits—”
“I think you are a liar；” said Melanie with a faint smile and the first sign of spirit Scarlett had ever seen her display with a man。 “What do you think？”
“I think so too；” said the one…eyed man and slapped his leg with a laugh。
“If you’ll all come into the parlor； I’ll sing you some Christmas carols；” said Melanie； glad to change the subject。 “The piano was one thing the Yankees couldn’t carry away。 Is it terribly out of tune； Suellen？”
“Dreadfully；” answered Suellen； happily beckoning with a smile to Frank。
But as they all passed from the room； Frank hung back； tugging at Scarlett’s sleeve。
“May I speak to you alone？”
For an awful moment she feared he was going to ask about her livestock and she braced herself for a good lie。
When the room was cleared and they stood by the fire； all the false cheerfulness which had colored Frank’s face in front of the others passed and she saw that he looked like an old man。 His face was as dried and brown as the leaves that were blowing about the lawn of Tara and his ginger…colored whiskers were thin and scraggly and streaked with gray。 He clawed at them absently and cleared his throat in an annoying way before he spoke。
“I’m mighty sorry about your ma； Miss Scarlett。”
“Please don’t talk about it。”
“And your pa— Has he been this way since—？”
“Yes—he’s—he’s not himself； as you can see。”
“He sure set a store by her。”
“Oh； Mr。 Kennedy； please don’t let’s talk—”
“I’m sorry； Miss Scarlett；” and he shuffled his feet nervously。 “The truth is I wanted to take up something with your pa and now I see it won’t do any good。”
“Perhaps I can help you； Mr。 Kennedy。 You see—I’m the head of the house now。”
“Well； I；” began Frank and again clawed nervously at his beard。 “The truth is— Well； Miss Scarlett； I was aiming to ask him for Miss Suellen。”
“Do you mean to tell me；” cried Scarlett in amused amazement； “that you haven’t yet asked Pa for Suellen？ And you’ve been courting her for years！”
He flushed and grinned embarrassedly and in general looked like a shy and sheepish boy。
“Well； I—I didn’t know if she’d have me。 I’m so much older than she is and—there were so many good…looking young bucks hanging around Tara—”
“Hump！” thought Scarlett； “they were hanging around me； not her！”
“And I don’t know yet if she’ll have me。 I’ve never asked her but she must know how I feel。 I—I thought I’d ask Mr。 O’Hara’s permission and tell him the truth。 Miss Scarlett； I haven’t got a cent now。 I used to have a lot of money； if you’ll forgive me mentioning it； but right now all I own is my horse and the clothes I’ve got on。 You see； when I enlisted I sold most of my land and I put all my money in Confederate bonds and you know what they’re worth now。 Less than the paper they’re printed on。 And anyway； I haven’t got them now； because they burned up when the Yankees burned my sister’s house。 I know I’ve got gall asking for Miss Suellen now when I haven’t a cent but—well； it’s this way。 I got to thinking that we don’t know how things are going to turn out about this war。 It sure looks like the end of the world for me。 There’s nothing we can be sure of and—and I thought it would be a heap of comfort to me and maybe to her if we were engaged。 That would be something sure。 I wouldn’t ask to marry her till I could take care of her； Miss Scarlett； and I don’t know when that will be。 But if true love carries any weight with you； you can be certain Miss Suellen will be rich in that if nothing else。”
He spoke the last words with a simple dignity that touched Scarlett； even in her amusement。 It was beyond her comprehension that anyone could love Suellen。 Her sister seemed to her a monster of selfishness； of complaints and of what she could only describe as pure cussedness。
“Why； Mr。 Kennedy；” she said kindly； “it’s quite all right。 I’m sure I can speak for Pa。 He always set a store by you and he always expected Suellen to marry you。”
“Did he now？” cried Frank； happiness in his face。
“Indeed yes；” answered Scarlett； concealing a grin as she remembered how frequently Gerald had rudely bellowed across the supper table to Suellen： “How now； Missy！ Hasn’t your ardent beau popped the question yet？ Shall I be asking him his intentions？”
“I shall ask her tonight；” he said； his face quivering； and he clutched her hand and shook it。 “You’re so kind； Miss Scarlett。”
“I’ll send her to’ you；” smiled Scarlett； starting for the parlor。 Melanie was beginning to play。 The piano was sadly out of tune but some of the chords were musical and Melanie was raising her voice to lead the others in “Hark； the Herald Angels Sing！”
Scarlett paused。 It did not seem possible that war had swept over them twice； that they were living in a ravaged country； close to the border of starvation； when this old sweet Christmas hymn was being sung。 Abruptly she turned to Frank。
“What did you mean when you said it looked like the end of the world to you？”
“I’ll talk frankly；” he said slowly； “but I wouldn’t want you to be alarming the other ladies with what I say。 The war can’t go on much longer。 There arent any fresh men to fill the ranks and the desertions are running high—higher than the army likes to admit You see； the men can’t stand to be away from their families when they know they’re starving； so they go home to try to provide for them。 I can’t blame them but it weakens the army。 And the army can’t fight without food and there isn�