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"
So
there
is
somebody
ter
home
,
"
he
said
,
slipping
his
pistol
back
into
its
holster
and
moving
into
the
hall
until
he
stood
directly
below
her
.
"
All
alone
,
little
lady
?
"
Like
lightning
,
she
shoved
her
weapon
over
the
banisters
and
into
the
startled
bearded
face
.
Before
he
could
even
fumble
at
his
belt
,
she
pulled
the
trigger
.
The
back
kick
of
the
pistol
made
her
reel
,
as
the
roar
of
the
explosion
filled
her
ears
and
the
acrid
smoke
stung
her
nostrils
.
The
man
crashed
backwards
to
the
floor
,
sprawling
into
the
dining
room
with
a
violence
that
shook
the
furniture
.
The
box
clattered
from
his
hand
,
the
contents
spilling
about
him
.
Hardly
aware
that
she
was
moving
,
Scarlett
ran
down
the
stairs
and
stood
over
him
,
gazing
down
into
what
was
left
of
the
face
above
the
beard
,
a
bloody
pit
where
the
nose
had
been
,
glazing
eyes
burned
with
powder
.
As
she
looked
,
two
streams
of
blood
crept
across
the
shining
floor
,
one
from
his
face
and
one
from
the
back
of
his
head
.
Yes
,
he
was
dead
.
Undoubtedly
.
She
had
killed
a
man
.
The
smoke
curled
slowly
to
the
ceiling
and
the
red
streams
widened
about
her
feet
.
For
a
timeless
moment
she
stood
there
and
in
the
still
hot
hush
of
the
summer
morning
every
irrelevant
sound
and
scent
seemed
magnified
,
the
quick
thudding
of
her
heart
,
like
a
drumbeat
,
the
slight
rough
rustling
of
the
magnolia
leaves
,
the
far-off
plaintive
sound
of
a
swamp
bird
and
the
sweet
smell
of
the
flowers
outside
the
window
.
She
had
killed
a
man
,
she
who
took
care
never
to
be
in
at
the
kill
on
a
hunt
,
she
who
could
not
bear
the
squealing
of
a
hog
at
slaughter
or
the
squeak
of
a
rabbit
in
a
snare
.
Murder
!
she
thought
dully
.
I
've
done
murder
.
Oh
,
this
ca
n't
be
happening
to
me
!
Her
eyes
went
to
the
stubby
hairy
hand
on
the
floor
so
close
to
the
sewing
box
and
suddenly
she
was
vitally
alive
again
,
vitally
glad
with
a
cool
tigerish
joy
.
She
could
have
ground
her
heel
into
the
gaping
wound
which
had
been
his
nose
and
taken
sweet
pleasure
in
the
feel
of
his
warm
blood
on
her
bare
feet
.
She
had
struck
a
blow
of
revenge
for
Tara
--
and
for
Ellen
.
There
were
hurried
stumbling
steps
in
the
upper
hall
,
a
pause
and
then
more
steps
,
weak
dragging
steps
now
,
punctuated
by
metallic
clankings
.
A
sense
of
time
and
reality
coming
back
to
her
,
Scarlett
looked
up
and
saw
Melanie
at
the
top
of
the
stairs
,
clad
only
in
the
ragged
chemise
which
served
her
as
a
nightgown
,
her
weak
arm
weighed
down
with
Charles
'
saber
.
Melanie
's
eyes
took
in
the
scene
below
in
its
entirety
,
the
sprawling
blue-clad
body
in
the
red
pool
,
the
sewing
box
beside
him
,
Scarlett
,
barefooted
and
gray-faced
,
clutching
the
long
pistol
.
In
silence
her
eyes
met
Scarlett
's
.
There
was
a
glow
of
grim
pride
in
her
usually
gentle
face
,
approbation
and
a
fierce
joy
in
her
smile
that
equaled
the
fiery
tumult
in
Scarlett
's
own
bosom
.
"
Why
--
why
--
she
's
like
me
!
She
understands
how
I
feel
!
"
thought
Scarlett
in
that
long
moment
.
"
She
'd
have
done
the
same
thing
!
"
