she couldn’t stop thinking about the dreadful news she had heard about Ashley and Melanie. She wanted her mother to return from the Slatterys’, for, without her, she felt lost and alone.
Of course, she did not intend to tell her mother what was so heavy on her heart, for Ellen would be shocked to know that her daughter wanted a man who was engaged to another girl.
She rose suddenly from her chair at the sound of creaking wheels. Then there were excited negro voices and laughter in the darkness of the yard. There was some whispering, and Pork entered, his eyes rolling and his teeth showing.
“Mist’ Gerald,” he announced, the pride of a bridegroom all over his shining face, “you’ new ’oman done come.”
“New woman? I didn’t buy any new woman,” declared Gerald, pretending to glare.
“Yassah, you did, Mist’ Gerald!” answered Pork, giggling in excitement.
“Well, bring in the bride,” said Gerald, and Pork, turning, beckoned into the hall to his wife, newly arrived from the Wilkes plantation to become part of the household of Tara. She entered, and behind her, almost hidden by her skirts, came her twelveyear-old daughter.
Dilcey was tall and held herself straight. She might have been any age from thirty to sixty, so unlined was her immobile bronze face. Indian blood was seen in her features which showed the mixture of two races. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully.
“Good evenin’, young Misses. Mist’ Gerald, I is sorry to ’sturb you, but I wanted to come here and thank you agin fo’ buyin’ me and my chile.”
Dilcey turned to Scarlett and smiled. “Miss Scarlett, and I’m gwine give you my Prissy fo’ yo’ own maid.”
She pushed the little girl forward. She was a brown little creature, with skinny legs and a myriad of pigtails sticking out from her head. She had sharp eyes that missed nothing and a stupid look on her face.
“Thank you, Dilcey,” Scarlett replied, “but I’m afraid Mammy will have something to say about that. She’s been my maid ever since I was born.”
“Mammy getting ole,” said Dilcey. “She a good mammy, but you a young lady now and needs a good maid.”
“A little wench,” she thought, and said aloud: “Thank you, Dilcey, we’ll see about it when Mother comes home.”
The supper things cleared away, Gerald started his speech again predicting war with the Yankees. And Scarlett was in her thoughts about Ashley.
How could Pa talk on and on about Fort Sumter and the Yankees when he knew her heart was breaking? Wouldn’t Mother ever come home?
Then, wheels went sharply on the graveled driveway, and Ellen’s voice floated into the room. The whole group looked up eagerly as she entered, her face tired and sad.
“I am sorry I am so late,” said Ellen, slipping her shawl from the shoulders and handing it to Scarlett, whose cheek she patted in passing.
Gerald’s face had brightened as if by magic at her entrance.
“Is the brat baptized?” he questioned.
“Yes, and dead, poor thing,” said Ellen. “I feared Emmie would die too, but I think she will live.”
“Well, ’tis better so that the brat is dead, no doubt, poor fatherle ”
“It is late. We had better have prayers now,” interrupted Ellen.
It would be interesting to know who was the father of Emmie Slattery’s baby, but Scarlett knew she would never learn the truth of the matter if she waited to hear it from her mother. Scarlett suspected Jonas Wilkerson, for she had often seen him walking down the road with Emmie at nightfall. Jonas was a Yankee and a bachelor, and the fact that he was an overseer excluded any contact with the County social life. There was no family into which he could marry, no people with whom he could associate except the Slatterys and riff raff like them.
Scarlett sighed, for her curiosity was sharp.
Pork entered the room, bearing a plate, silver and a napkin. Ellen sat down in the chair which Gerald pulled out for her and four voices attacked her.
“Mother, the lace is loose on my new ball dress and I want to wear it tomorrow night at Twelve Oaks. Won’t you please fix it?”
“Mother, Scarlett’s new dress is prettier than mine and I look like a fright in pink. Why can’t she wear my pink and let me wear her green? She looks all right in pink.”
“Mother, can I stay up for the ball tomorrow night? I’m thirteen now —”
“Mrs. O’Hara, would you believe it! Cade Calvert was in Atlanta this morning and he says the news from Charleston is that they won’t tolerate any more Yankee insults.”
Ellen’s tired mouth smiled and she addressed herself first to her husband, as a wife should.
“If the nice people of Charleston feel that way, I’m sure we will all feel the same way soon,” she said. “No, Carreen, next year, dear. Then you can stay up for balls and wear grown-up dresses. Don’t pout, dear. You can go to the barbecue, remember that, and stay up through supper, but no balls until you are fourteen.”
“Give me your gown, Scarlett, I will fix the lace for you after prayers.
“Suellen, I do not like your tone, dear. Your pink gown is lovely and suitable to your complexion, Scarlett’s is to hers. But you may wear my garnet necklace tomorrow night.”
Suellen, behind her mother’s back, wrinkled her nose triumphantly at Scarlett, who had been planning to beg the necklace for herself. Scarlett put out her tongue at her.
“Now, Mr. O’Hara, tell me more about what Mr. Calvert said about Charleston,” said Ellen.
Scarlett knew her mother cared nothing at all about war and politics, but it gave Gerald pleasure to air his views.
While Gerald was talking, Mammy set the plates before her mistress. Ellen ate properly, but Scarlett could see that she was too tired to know what she was eating.
When the dish was empty, Ellen rose.
“We’ll be having prayers?” Gerald questioned, reluctantly.
“Yes. The lamp, please, Pork, and my prayer book, Mammy.”
Ellen closed her eyes and began praying, her voice rising and falling, lulling and soothing. Heads bowed as Ellen thanked God for the health and happiness of her home, her family and her negroes.
When she had finished her prayers, she began the Rosary: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death.”
Despite her heartache, a deep sense of quiet and peace fell upon Scarlett as it always did at this hour. Some of the disappointment of the day and the dread of the morrow went away from her, leaving a feeling of hope.
She dropped her head upon her folded hands so that her mother could not see her face, and her thoughts went sadly back to Ashley. How could he be planning to marry Melanie when he really loved her, Scarlett? And when he knew how much she loved him? How could he break her heart?
Then,
