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Chapter 27

           Allthehomely,well-lovedarticlesoffurnitureseemedtowhisper:"Good-by!Good-by!"Asobroseinherthroat.TherewastheopendooroftheofficewhereEllenhadlaboredsodiligentlyandshecouldglimpseacorneroftheoldsecretary.Therewasthediningroom,withchairspushedawryandfoodstillontheplates.ThereonthefloorweretheragrugsEllenhaddyedandwovenherself.AndtherewastheoldportraitofGrandmaRobillard,withbosomshalfbared,hairpiledhighandnostrilscutsodeeplyastogiveherfaceaperpetualwell-bredsneer.Everythingwhichhadbeenpartofherearliestmemories,everythingboundupwiththedeepestrootsinher:"Good-by!Good-by,ScarlettO’Hara!"

           TheYankeeswouldburnitallall!

           Thiswasherlastviewofhome,herlastviewexceptwhatshemightseefromthecoverofthewoodsortheswamp,thetallchimneyswrappedinsmoke,theroofcrashinginflame.

           "Ican’tleaveyou,"shethoughtandherteethchatteredwithfear."Ican’tleaveyou.Pawouldn’tleaveyou.Hetoldthemthey’dhavetoburnyouoverhishead.Then,they’llburnyouovermyheadforIcan’tleaveyoueither.You’reallI’vegotleft."

           Withthedecision,someofherfearfellawayandthereremainedonlyacongealedfeelinginherbreast,asifallhopeandfearhadfrozen.

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