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- Стр. 409/927
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The
two
of
them
,
with
their
Yankee
stepmother
,
their
four
little
half-sisters
,
and
Hilton
,
the
Yankee
overseer
,
remained
in
the
silent
,
oddly
echoing
house
.
Scarlett
had
never
liked
Hilton
any
more
than
she
liked
their
own
overseer
Jonas
Wilkerson
,
and
she
liked
him
even
less
now
,
as
he
sauntered
forward
and
greeted
her
like
an
equal
.
Formerly
he
had
the
same
combination
of
servility
and
impertinence
which
Wilkerson
possessed
but
now
,
with
Mr.
Calvert
and
Raiford
dead
in
the
war
and
Cade
sick
,
he
had
dropped
all
servility
.
The
second
Mrs.
Calvert
had
never
known
how
to
compel
respect
from
negro
servants
and
it
was
not
to
be
expected
that
she
could
get
it
from
a
white
man
.
"
Mr.
Hilton
has
been
so
kind
about
staying
with
us
through
these
difficult
times
,
"
said
Mrs.
Calvert
nervously
,
casting
quick
glances
at
her
silent
stepdaughter
.
"
Very
kind
.
I
suppose
you
heard
how
he
saved
our
house
twice
when
Sherman
was
here
.
I
'm
sure
I
do
n't
know
how
we
would
have
managed
without
him
,
with
no
money
and
Cade
--
"
A
flush
went
over
Cade
's
white
face
and
Cathleen
's
long
lashes
veiled
her
eyes
as
her
mouth
hardened
.
Scarlett
knew
their
souls
were
writhing
in
helpless
rage
at
being
under
obligations
to
their
Yankee
overseer
.
Mrs.
Calvert
seemed
ready
to
weep
.
She
had
somehow
made
a
blunder
.
She
was
always
blundering
.
She
just
could
n't
understand
Southerners
,
for
all
that
she
had
lived
in
Georgia
twenty
years
.
She
never
knew
what
not
to
say
to
her
stepchildren
and
,
no
matter
what
she
said
or
did
,
they
were
always
so
exquisitely
polite
to
her
.
Silently
she
vowed
she
would
go
North
to
her
own
people
,
taking
her
children
with
her
,
and
leave
these
puzzling
stiff-necked
strangers
.
After
these
visits
,
Scarlett
had
no
desire
to
see
the
Tarletons
.
Now
that
the
four
boys
were
gone
,
the
house
burned
and
the
family
cramped
in
the
overseer
's
cottage
,
she
could
not
bring
herself
to
go
.
But
Suellen
and
Carreen
begged
and
Melanie
said
it
would
be
unneighborly
not
to
call
and
welcome
Mr.
Tarleton
back
from
the
war
,
so
one
Sunday
they
went
.
This
was
the
worst
of
all
.
As
they
drove
up
by
the
ruins
of
the
house
,
they
saw
Beatrice
Tarleton
dressed
in
a
worn
riding
habit
,
a
crop
under
her
arm
,
sitting
on
the
top
rail
of
the
fence
about
the
paddock
,
staring
moodily
at
nothing
.
Beside
her
perched
the
bow-legged
little
negro
who
had
trained
her
horses
and
he
looked
as
glum
as
his
mistress
.
The
paddock
,
once
full
of
frolicking
colts
and
placid
brood
mares
,
was
empty
now
except
for
one
mule
,
the
mule
Mr.
Tarleton
had
ridden
home
from
the
surrender
.
"
I
swear
I
do
n't
know
what
to
do
with
myself
now
that
my
darlings
are
gone
,
"
said
Mrs.
Tarleton
,
climbing
down
from
the
fence
.
A
stranger
might
have
thought
she
spoke
of
her
four
dead
sons
,
but
the
girls
from
Tara
knew
her
horses
were
in
her
mind
.
"
All
my
beautiful
horses
dead
.
And
oh
,
my
poor
Nellie
!
If
I
just
had
Nellie
!
And
nothing
but
a
damned
mule
on
the
place
.
A
damned
mule
,
"
she
repeated
,
looking
indignantly
at
the
scrawny
beast
.
"
It
's
an
insult
to
the
memory
of
my
blooded
darlings
to
have
a
mule
in
their
paddock
.
Mules
are
misbegotten
,
unnatural
critters
and
it
ought
to
be
illegal
to
breed
them
.
"
Jim
Tarleton
,
completely
disguised
by
a
bushy
beard
,
came
out
of
the
overseer
's
house
to
welcome
and
kiss
the
girls
and
his
four
red-haired
daughters
in
mended
dresses
streamed
out
behind
him
,
tripping
over
the
dozen
black
and
tan
hounds
which
ran
barking
to
the
door
at
the
sound
of
strange
voices
.
There
was
an
air
of
studied
and
determined
cheerfulness
about
the
whole
family
which
brought
a
colder
chill
to
Scarlett
's
bones
than
the
bitterness
of
Mimosa
or
the
deathly
brooding
of
Pine
Bloom
.
