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"
Fiddle-dee-dee
!
"
said
Scarlett
in
relief
.
She
cast
a
quick
glance
at
the
slight
figure
with
blushing
face
bent
over
the
sewing
.
Melanie
might
want
children
but
she
certainly
did
not
have
the
figure
for
bearing
them
.
She
was
hardly
taller
than
a
twelve-year-old
child
,
her
hips
were
as
narrow
as
a
child
's
and
her
breasts
were
very
flat
.
The
very
thought
of
Melanie
having
a
child
was
repellent
to
Scarlett
.
It
brought
up
too
many
thoughts
she
could
n't
bear
thinking
.
If
Melanie
should
have
a
child
of
Ashley
's
,
it
would
be
as
though
something
were
taken
from
Scarlett
that
was
her
own
.
"
Do
forgive
me
for
saying
that
about
Wade
.
You
know
I
love
him
so
.
You
are
n't
mad
at
me
,
are
you
?
"
"
Do
n't
be
silly
,
"
said
Scarlett
shortly
.
"
And
go
out
on
the
porch
and
do
something
for
Phil
.
He
's
crying
.
"
The
army
,
driven
back
into
Virginia
,
went
into
winter
quarters
on
the
Rapidan
--
a
tired
,
depleted
army
since
the
defeat
at
Gettysburg
--
and
as
the
Christmas
season
approached
,
Ashley
came
home
on
furlough
.
Scarlett
,
seeing
him
for
the
first
time
in
more
than
two
years
,
was
frightened
by
the
violence
of
her
feelings
.
When
she
had
stood
in
the
parlor
at
Twelve
Oaks
and
seen
him
married
to
Melanie
,
she
had
thought
she
could
never
love
him
with
a
more
heartbreaking
intensity
than
she
did
at
that
moment
.
But
now
she
knew
her
feelings
of
that
long-past
night
were
those
of
a
spoiled
child
thwarted
of
a
toy
.
Now
,
her
emotions
were
sharpened
by
her
long
dreams
of
him
,
heightened
by
the
repression
she
had
been
forced
to
put
on
her
tongue
.
This
Ashley
Wilkes
in
his
faded
,
patched
uniform
,
his
blond
hair
bleached
tow
by
summer
suns
,
was
a
different
man
from
the
easy-going
,
drowsy-eyed
boy
she
had
loved
to
desperation
before
the
war
.
And
he
was
a
thousand
times
more
thrilling
.
He
was
bronzed
and
lean
now
,
where
he
had
once
been
fair
and
slender
,
and
the
long
golden
mustache
drooping
about
his
mouth
,
cavalry
style
,
was
the
last
touch
needed
to
make
him
the
perfect
picture
of
a
soldier
.
He
stood
with
military
straightness
in
his
old
uniform
,
his
pistol
in
its
worn
holster
,
his
battered
scabbard
smartly
slapping
his
high
boots
,
his
tarnished
spurs
dully
gleaming
--
Major
Ashley
Wilkes
,
C.
S.
A
.
The
habit
of
command
sat
upon
him
now
,
a
quiet
air
of
self-reliance
and
authority
,
and
grim
lines
were
beginning
to
emerge
about
his
mouth
.
There
was
something
new
and
strange
about
the
square
set
of
his
shoulders
and
the
cool
bright
gleam
of
his
eyes
.
Where
he
had
once
been
lounging
and
indolent
,
he
was
now
as
alert
as
a
prowling
cat
,
with
the
tense
alertness
of
one
whose
nerves
are
perpetually
drawn
as
tight
as
the
strings
of
a
violin
.
In
his
eyes
,
there
was
a
fagged
,
haunted
look
,
and
the
sunburned
skin
was
tight
across
the
fine
bones
of
his
face
--
her
same
handsome
Ashley
,
yet
so
very
different
.
Scarlett
had
made
her
plans
to
spend
Christmas
at
Tara
,
but
after
Ashley
's
telegram
came
no
power
on
earth
,
not
even
a
direct
command
from
the
disappointed
Ellen
,
could
drag
her
away
from
Atlanta
.
Had
Ashley
intended
going
to
Twelve
Oaks
,
she
would
have
hastened
to
Tara
to
be
near
him
;
but
he
had
written
his
family
to
join
him
in
Atlanta
,
and
Mr.
Wilkes
and
Honey
and
India
were
already
in
town
.
Go
home
to
Tara
and
miss
seeing
him
,
after
two
long
years
?
Miss
the
heart-quickening
sound
of
his
voice
,
miss
reading
in
his
eyes
that
he
had
not
forgotten
her
?
Never
!
Not
for
all
the
mothers
in
the
world
.
Ashley
came
home
four
days
before
Christmas
,
with
a
group
of
the
County
boys
also
on
furlough
,
a
sadly
diminished
group
since
Gettysburg
.
Cade
Calvert
was
among
them
,
a
thin
,
gaunt
Cade
,
who
coughed
continually
,
two
of
the
Munroe
boys
,
bubbling
with
the
excitement
of
their
first
leave
since
1861
,
and
Alex
and
Tony
Fontaine
,
splendidly
drunk
,
boisterous
and
quarrelsome
.
The
group
had
two
hours
to
wait
between
trains
and
,
as
it
was
taxing
the
diplomacy
of
the
sober
members
of
the
party
to
keep
the
Fontaines
from
fighting
each
other
and
perfect
strangers
in
the
depot
,
Ashley
brought
them
all
home
to
Aunt
Pittypat
's
.
