Унесенные ветром

           HowprettyandfreshCathleenhadbeenthatdayinaswirlofblueorgandiewithfragrantrosesathersashandlittleblackvelvetslipperslacedabouthersmallankles.Andnowtherewasnotatraceofthatgirlinthestifffiguresittingonthemule.

           "Iwon’tgetdown,thankyou,"shesaid."IjustcametotellyouthatI’mgoingtobemarried."

           "What!"

           "Whoto?"

           "Cathy,howgrand!"

           "When?"

           "Tomorrow,"saidCathleenquietlyandtherewassomethinginhervoicewhichtooktheeagersmilesfromtheirfaces."IcametotellyouthatI’mgoingtobemarriedtomorrow,inJonesboro—andI’mnotinvitingyoualltocome."

           Theydigestedthisinsilence,lookingupather,puzzled.ThenMelaniespoke.

           "Isitsomeoneweknow,dear?"

           "Yes,"saidCathleen,shortly."It’sMr.Hilton."

           "Mr.Hilton?"

           "Yes,Mr.Hilton,ouroverseer."

           Scarlettcouldnotevenfindvoicetosay"Oh!"butCathleen,peeringdownsuddenlyatMelanie,saidinalowsavagevoice:"Ifyoucry,Melly,Ican’tstandit.Ishalldie!"

           Melaniesaidnothingbutpattedthefootinitsawkwardhome-madeshoewhichhungfromthestirrup.Herheadwaslow.

           "Anddon’tpatme!Ican’tstandthateither."

           Melaniedroppedherhandbutstilldidnotlookup.

           "Well,Imustgo.Ionlycametotellyou."Thewhitebrittlemaskwasbackagainandshepickedupthereins.

           "HowisCade?"askedScarlett,utterlyatalossbutfumblingforsomewordstobreaktheawkwardsilence.

           "Heisdying,"saidCathleenshortly.