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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 913/927
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"
Come
and
sit
down
,
"
he
said
.
"
She
is
dead
?
"
She
nodded
and
advanced
hesitantly
toward
him
,
uncertainty
taking
form
in
her
mind
at
this
new
expression
on
his
face
.
Without
rising
,
he
pushed
back
a
chair
with
his
foot
and
she
sank
into
it
.
She
wished
he
had
not
spoken
of
Melanie
so
soon
.
She
did
not
want
to
talk
of
her
now
,
to
re-live
the
agony
of
the
last
hour
.
There
was
all
the
rest
of
her
life
in
which
to
speak
of
Melanie
.
But
it
seemed
to
her
now
,
driven
by
a
fierce
desire
to
cry
:
"
I
love
you
,
"
that
there
was
only
this
night
,
this
hour
,
in
which
to
tell
Rhett
what
was
in
her
mind
.
But
there
was
something
in
his
face
that
stopped
her
and
she
was
suddenly
ashamed
to
speak
of
love
when
Melanie
was
hardly
cold
.
"
Well
,
God
rest
her
,
"
he
said
heavily
.
"
She
was
the
only
completely
kind
person
I
ever
knew
.
"
"
Oh
,
Rhett
!
"
she
cried
miserably
,
for
his
words
brought
up
too
vividly
all
the
kind
things
Melanie
had
ever
done
for
her
.
"
Why
did
n't
you
come
in
with
me
?
It
was
dreadful
--
and
I
needed
you
so
!
"
"
I
could
n't
have
borne
it
,
"
he
said
simply
and
for
a
moment
he
was
silent
.
Then
he
spoke
with
an
effort
and
said
,
softly
:
"
A
very
great
lady
.
"
His
somber
gaze
went
past
her
and
in
his
eyes
was
the
same
look
she
had
seen
in
the
light
of
the
flames
the
night
Atlanta
fell
,
when
he
told
her
he
was
going
off
with
the
retreating
army
--
the
surprise
of
a
man
who
knows
himself
utterly
,
yet
discovers
in
himself
unexpected
loyalties
and
emotions
and
feels
a
faint
self-ridicule
at
the
discovery
.
His
moody
eyes
went
over
her
shoulder
as
though
he
saw
Melanie
silently
passing
through
the
room
to
the
door
.
In
the
look
of
farewell
on
his
face
there
was
no
sorrow
,
no
pain
,
only
a
speculative
wonder
at
himself
,
only
a
poignant
stirring
of
emotions
dead
since
boyhood
,
as
he
said
again
:
"
A
very
great
lady
.
"
Scarlett
shivered
and
the
glow
went
from
her
heart
,
the
fine
warmth
,
the
splendor
which
had
sent
her
home
on
winged
feet
.
She
half-grasped
what
was
in
Rhett
's
mind
as
he
said
farewell
to
the
only
person
in
the
world
he
respected
and
she
was
desolate
again
with
a
terrible
sense
of
loss
that
was
no
longer
personal
.
She
could
not
wholly
understand
or
analyze
what
he
was
feeling
,
but
it
seemed
almost
as
if
she
too
had
been
brushed
by
whispering
skirts
,
touching
her
softly
in
a
last
caress
.
She
was
seeing
through
Rhett
's
eyes
the
passing
,
not
of
a
woman
but
of
a
legend
--
the
gentle
,
self-effacing
but
steel-spined
women
on
whom
the
South
had
builded
its
house
in
war
and
to
whose
proud
and
loving
arms
it
had
returned
in
defeat
.
