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During
these
months
Scarlett
had
learned
the
use
of
brandy
.
When
she
came
home
in
the
late
afternoons
,
damp
from
the
rain
,
cramped
and
aching
from
long
hours
in
the
buggy
,
nothing
sustained
her
except
the
thought
of
the
bottle
hidden
in
her
top
bureau
drawer
,
locked
against
Mammy
's
prying
eyes
.
Dr.
Meade
had
not
thought
to
warn
her
that
a
woman
in
her
condition
should
not
drink
,
for
it
never
occurred
to
him
that
a
decent
woman
would
drink
anything
stronger
than
scuppernong
wine
.
Except
,
of
course
,
a
glass
of
champagne
at
a
wedding
or
a
hot
toddy
when
confined
to
bed
with
a
hard
cold
.
Of
course
,
there
were
unfortunate
women
who
drank
,
to
the
eternal
disgrace
of
their
families
,
just
as
there
were
women
who
were
insane
or
divorced
or
who
believed
,
with
Miss
Susan
B.
Anthony
,
that
women
should
have
the
vote
.
But
as
much
as
the
doctor
disapproved
of
Scarlett
,
he
never
suspected
her
of
drinking
.
Scarlett
had
found
that
a
drink
of
neat
brandy
before
supper
helped
immeasurably
and
she
would
always
chew
coffee
or
gargle
cologne
to
disguise
the
smell
.
Why
were
people
so
silly
about
women
drinking
,
when
men
could
and
did
get
reeling
drunk
whenever
they
wanted
to
?
Sometimes
when
Frank
lay
snoring
beside
her
and
sleep
would
not
come
,
when
she
lay
tossing
,
torn
with
fears
of
poverty
,
dreading
the
Yankees
,
homesick
for
Tara
and
yearning
for
Ashley
,
she
thought
she
would
go
crazy
were
it
not
for
the
brandy
bottle
.
And
when
the
pleasant
familiar
warmth
stole
through
her
veins
,
her
troubles
began
to
fade
.
After
three
drinks
,
she
could
always
say
to
herself
:
"
I
'll
think
of
these
things
tomorrow
when
I
can
stand
them
better
.
"
But
there
were
some
nights
when
even
brandy
would
not
still
the
ache
in
her
heart
,
the
ache
that
was
even
stronger
than
fear
of
losing
the
mills
,
the
ache
to
see
Tara
again
.
Atlanta
,
with
its
noises
,
its
new
buildings
,
its
strange
faces
,
its
narrow
streets
crowded
with
horses
and
wagons
and
bustling
crowds
sometimes
seemed
to
stifle
her
.
She
loved
Atlanta
but
--
oh
,
for
the
sweet
peace
and
country
quiet
of
Tara
,
the
red
fields
and
the
dark
pines
about
it
!
Oh
,
to
be
back
at
Tara
,
no
matter
how
hard
the
life
might
be
!
And
to
be
near
Ashley
,
just
to
see
him
,
to
hear
him
speak
,
to
be
sustained
by
the
knowledge
of
his
love
!
Each
letter
from
Melanie
,
saying
that
they
were
well
,
each
brief
note
from
Will
reporting
about
the
plowing
,
the
planting
,
the
growing
of
the
cotton
made
her
long
anew
to
be
home
again
.
I
'll
go
home
in
June
I
ca
n't
do
anything
here
after
that
.
I
'll
go
home
for
a
couple
of
months
,
she
thought
,
and
her
heart
would
rise
.
She
did
go
home
in
June
but
not
as
she
longed
to
go
,
for
early
in
that
month
came
a
brief
message
from
Will
that
Gerald
was
dead
.
The
train
was
very
late
and
the
long
,
deeply
blue
twilight
of
June
was
settling
over
the
countryside
when
Scarlett
alighted
in
Jonesboro
.
Yellow
gleams
of
lamplight
showed
in
the
stores
and
houses
which
remained
in
the
village
,
but
they
were
few
.
Here
and
there
were
wide
gaps
between
the
buildings
on
the
main
street
where
dwellings
had
been
shelled
or
burned
.
Ruined
houses
with
shell
holes
in
their
roofs
and
half
the
walls
torn
away
stared
at
her
,
silent
and
dark
.
A
few
saddle
horses
and
mule
teams
were
hitched
outside
the
wooden
awning
of
Bullard
's
store
.
The
dusty
red
road
was
empty
and
lifeless
,
and
the
only
sounds
in
the
village
were
a
few
whoops
and
drunken
laughs
that
floated
on
the
still
twilight
air
from
a
saloon
far
down
the
street
.
The
depot
had
not
been
rebuilt
since
it
was
burned
in
the
battle
and
in
its
place
was
only
a
wooden
shelter
,
with
no
sides
to
keep
out
the
weather
.
Scarlett
walked
under
it
and
sat
down
on
one
of
the
empty
kegs
that
were
evidently
put
there
for
seats
.
She
peered
up
and
down
the
street
for
Will
Benteen
.
Will
should
have
been
here
to
meet
her
.
He
should
have
known
she
would
take
the
first
train
possible
after
receiving
his
laconic
message
that
Gerald
was
dead
.
She
had
come
so
hurriedly
that
she
had
in
her
small
carpetbag
only
a
nightgown
and
a
tooth
brush
,
not
even
a
change
of
underwear
.
She
was
uncomfortable
in
the
tight
black
dress
she
had
borrowed
from
Mrs.
Meade
,
for
she
had
had
no
time
to
get
mourning
clothes
for
herself
.
Mrs.
Meade
was
thin
now
,
and
Scarlett
's
pregnancy
being
advanced
,
the
dress
was
doubly
uncomfortable
.
Even
in
her
sorrow
at
Gerald
's
death
,
she
did
not
forget
the
appearance
she
was
making
and
she
looked
down
at
her
body
with
distaste
.
Her
figure
was
completely
gone
and
her
face
and
ankles
were
puffy
.
Heretofore
she
had
not
cared
very
much
how
she
looked
but
now
that
she
would
see
Ashley
within
the
hour
she
cared
greatly
.
Even
in
her
heartbreak
,
she
shrank
from
the
thought
of
facing
him
when
she
was
carrying
another
man
's
child
.
She
loved
him
and
he
loved
her
,
and
this
unwanted
child
now
seemed
to
her
a
proof
of
infidelity
to
that
love
.
But
much
as
she
disliked
having
him
see
her
with
the
slenderness
gone
from
her
waist
and
the
lightness
from
her
step
,
it
was
something
she
could
not
escape
now
.
She
patted
her
foot
impatiently
.
Will
should
have
met
her
.
Of
course
,
she
could
go
over
to
Bullard
's
and
inquire
after
him
or
ask
someone
there
to
drive
her
over
to
Tara
,
should
she
find
he
had
been
unable
to
come
.
But
she
did
not
want
to
go
to
Bullard
's
.
It
was
Saturday
night
and
probably
half
the
men
of
the
County
would
be
there
.
She
did
not
want
to
display
her
condition
in
this
poorly
fitting
black
dress
which
accentuated
rather
than
hid
her
figure
.
And
she
did
not
want
to
hear
the
kindly
sympathy
that
would
be
poured
out
about
Gerald
.
She
did
not
want
sympathy
.
She
was
afraid
she
would
cry
if
anyone
even
mentioned
his
name
to
her
.
And
she
would
n't
cry
.
