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Chapter 19

           Tara’sfivemilesfromtherailroadandit’stherailroadtheYankeeswant.You’vegotnomoresensethanaJunebug,Missy."Hebrokeoffabruptly."Ididn’twalkallthiswayheretonightjusttotellyouallgood-by.IcametobringMellysomebadnews,butwhenIgotuptoitIjustcouldn’ttellher.SoI’mgoingtoleaveittoyoutodo."

           "Ashleyisn’t—youhaven’theardanything—thathe’s—dead?"

           "Now,howwouldIbehearingaboutAshleywhenI’vebeenstandinginriflepitsuptotheseatofmypantsinmud?"theoldgentlemanaskedtestily."No.It’sabouthisfather.JohnWilkesisdead."

           Scarlettsatdownsuddenly,thehalf-wrappedlunchinherhand.

           "IcametotellMelly—butIcouldn’t.Youmustdoit.Andgiveherthese."

           Hehauledfromhispocketsaheavygoldwatchwithdanglingseals,asmallminiatureofthelongdeadMrs.Wilkesandapairofmassivecuffbuttons.AtthesightofthewatchwhichshehadseeninJohnWilkes’handsathousandtimes,thefullrealizationcameoverScarlettthatAshley’sfatherwasreallydead.Andshewastoostunnedtocryortospeak.UncleHenryfidgeted,coughedanddidnotlookather,lesthecatchsightofatearthatwouldupsethim.

           "Hewasabraveman,Scarlett.TellMellythat.Tellhertowriteittohisgirls.Andagoodsoldierforallhisyears.Ashellgothim.Camerightdownonhimandhishorse.Torethehorse’s—Ishotthehorsemyself,poorcreature.Afinelittlemareshewas.You’dbetterwriteMrs.Tarletonaboutthat,too.

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