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- Маргарет Митчелл
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She
loved
him
,
scamp
,
blackguard
,
without
scruple
or
honor
--
at
least
,
honor
as
Ashley
saw
it
.
"
Damn
Ashley
's
honor
!
"
she
thought
.
"
Ashley
's
honor
has
always
let
me
down
.
Yes
,
from
the
very
beginning
when
he
kept
on
coming
to
see
me
,
even
though
he
knew
his
family
expected
him
to
marry
Melanie
.
Rhett
has
never
let
me
down
,
even
that
dreadful
night
of
Melly
's
reception
when
he
ought
to
have
wrung
my
neck
.
Even
when
he
left
me
on
the
road
the
night
Atlanta
fell
,
he
knew
I
'd
be
safe
.
He
knew
I
'd
get
through
somehow
.
Even
when
he
acted
like
he
was
going
to
make
me
pay
to
get
that
money
from
him
at
the
Yankee
camp
.
He
would
n't
have
taken
me
.
He
was
just
testing
me
.
He
's
loved
me
all
along
and
I
've
been
so
mean
to
him
.
Time
and
again
,
I
've
hurt
him
and
he
was
too
proud
to
show
it
.
And
when
Bonnie
died
--
Oh
,
how
could
I
?
"
She
stood
up
straight
and
looked
at
the
house
on
the
hill
.
She
had
thought
,
half
an
hour
ago
,
that
she
had
lost
everything
in
the
world
,
except
money
,
everything
that
made
life
desirable
,
Ellen
,
Gerald
,
Bonnie
,
Mammy
,
Melanie
and
Ashley
.
She
had
to
lose
them
all
to
realize
that
she
loved
Rhett
--
loved
him
because
he
was
strong
and
unscrupulous
,
passionate
and
earthy
,
like
herself
.
"
I
'll
tell
him
everything
,
"
she
thought
.
"
He
'll
understand
.
He
's
always
understood
.
I
'll
tell
him
what
a
fool
I
've
been
and
how
much
I
love
him
and
I
'll
make
it
up
to
him
.
"
Suddenly
she
felt
strong
and
happy
.
She
was
not
afraid
of
the
darkness
or
the
fog
and
she
knew
with
a
singing
in
her
heart
that
she
would
never
fear
them
again
.
No
matter
what
mists
might
curl
around
her
in
the
future
,
she
knew
her
refuge
.
She
started
briskly
up
the
street
toward
home
and
the
blocks
seemed
very
long
.
Far
,
far
too
long
.
She
caught
up
her
skirts
to
her
knees
and
began
to
run
lightly
.
But
this
time
she
was
not
running
from
fear
She
was
running
because
Rhett
's
arms
were
at
the
end
of
the
street
.
The
front
door
was
slightly
ajar
and
she
trotted
,
breathless
,
into
the
hall
and
paused
for
a
moment
under
the
rainbow
prisms
of
the
chandelier
.
For
all
its
brightness
the
house
was
very
still
,
not
with
the
serene
stillness
of
sleep
but
with
a
watchful
,
tired
silence
that
was
faintly
ominous
.
She
saw
at
a
glance
that
Rhett
was
not
in
the
parlor
or
the
library
and
her
heart
sank
.
Suppose
he
should
be
out
--
out
with
Belle
or
wherever
it
was
he
spent
the
many
evenings
when
he
did
not
appear
at
the
supper
table
?
She
had
not
bargained
on
this
.
She
had
started
up
the
steps
in
search
of
him
when
she
saw
that
the
door
of
the
dining
room
was
closed
.
Her
heart
contracted
a
little
with
shame
at
the
sight
of
that
closed
door
,
remembering
the
many
nights
of
this
last
summer
when
Rhett
had
sat
there
alone
,
drinking
until
he
was
sodden
and
Pork
came
to
urge
him
to
bed
.
That
had
been
her
fault
but
she
'd
change
it
all
.
Everything
was
to
be
different
from
now
on
--
but
,
please
God
,
do
n't
let
him
be
too
drunk
tonight
.
If
he
's
too
drunk
he
wo
n't
believe
me
and
he
'll
laugh
at
me
and
that
will
break
my
heart
.
She
quietly
opened
the
dining-room
door
a
crack
and
peered
in
.
He
was
seated
before
the
table
,
slumped
in
his
chair
,
and
a
full
decanter
stood
before
him
with
the
stopper
in
place
,
the
glass
unused
.
Thank
God
,
he
was
sober
!
She
pulled
open
the
door
,
holding
herself
back
from
running
to
him
.
But
when
he
looked
up
at
her
,
something
in
his
gaze
stopped
her
dead
on
the
threshold
,
stilled
the
words
on
her
lips
.
He
looked
at
her
steadily
with
dark
eyes
that
were
heavy
with
fatigue
and
there
was
no
leaping
light
in
them
.
Though
her
hair
was
tumbling
about
her
shoulders
,
her
bosom
heaving
breathlessly
and
her
skirts
mud
splattered
to
the
knees
,
his
face
did
not
change
with
surprise
or
question
or
his
lips
twist
with
mockery
.
He
was
sunken
in
his
chair
,
his
suit
wrinkling
untidily
against
his
thickening
waist
,
every
line
of
him
proclaiming
the
ruin
of
a
fine
body
and
the
coarsening
of
a
strong
face
.
Drink
and
dissipation
had
done
their
work
on
the
coin-clean
profile
and
now
it
was
no
longer
the
head
of
a
young
pagan
prince
on
new-minted
gold
but
a
decadent
,
tired
Caesar
on
copper
debased
by
long
usage
.
He
looked
up
at
her
as
she
stood
there
,
hand
on
heart
,
looked
quietly
,
almost
in
a
kindly
way
,
that
frightened
her
.
