Chapter 11

           Onanafternoonofthefollowingweek,Scarlettcamehomefromthehospitalwearyandindignant.ShewastiredfromstandingonherfeetallmorningandirritablebecauseMrs.Merriwetherhadscoldedhersharplyforsittingonasoldier’sbedwhileshedressedhiswoundedarm.AuntPittyandMelanie,bonnetedintheirbest,wereontheporchwithWadeandPrissy,readyfortheirweeklyroundofcalls.Scarlettaskedtobeexcusedfromaccompanyingthemandwentupstairstoherroom.

           Whenthelastsoundofcarriagewheelshaddiedawayandsheknewthefamilywassafelyoutofsight,sheslippedquietlyintoMelanie’sroomandturnedthekeyinthelock.Itwasaprim,virginallittleroomanditlaystillandwarmintheslantingraysofthefour-o’clocksun.Thefloorswereglisteningandbareexceptforafewbrightragrugs,andthewhitewallsunornamentedsaveforonecornerwhichMelaniehadfittedupasashrine.

           Here,underadrapedConfederateflag,hungthegold-hiltedsaberthatMelanie’sfatherhadcarriedintheMexicanWar,thesamesaberCharleshadwornawaytowar.Charles’sashandpistolbelthungtheretoo,withhisrevolverintheholster.BetweenthesaberandthepistolwasadaguerreotypeofCharleshimself,verystiffandproudinhisgrayuniform,hisgreatbrowneyesshiningoutoftheframeandashysmileonhislips.

           Scarlettdidnotevenglanceatthepicturebutwentunhesitatinglyacrosstheroomtothesquarerosewoodwritingboxthatstoodonthetablebesidethenarrowbed.