minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

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afternoon, she had hoped for the warmth of his hands, the
tenderness of his eyes, a word that would show he cared. This was
the first time they had been utterly alone since the cold day in
the orchard at Tara, the first time their hands had met in any but
formal gestures, and through the long months she had hungered for
closer contact. But now--

How odd that the touch of his hands did not excite her! Once his
very nearness would have set her a-tremble. Now she felt a curious
warm friendliness and content. No fever leaped from his hands to
hers and in his hands her heart hushed to happy quietness. This
puzzled her, made her a little disconcerted. He was still her
Ashley, still her bright, shining darling and she loved him better
than life. Then why--

But she pushed the thought from her mind. It was enough that she
was with him and he was holding her hands and smiling, completely
friendly, without strain or fever. It seemed miraculous that this
could be when she thought of all the unsaid things that lay between
them. His eyes looked into hers, clear and shining, smiling in the
old way she loved, smiling as though there had never been anything
between them but happiness. There was no barrier between his eyes
and hers now, no baffling remoteness. She laughed.

"Oh, Ashley, I'm getting old and decrepit."

"Ah, that's very apparent! No, Scarlett, when you are sixty,
you'll look the same to me. I'll always remember you as you were
that day of our last barbecue, sitting under an oak with a dozen
boys around you. I can even tell you just how you were dressed, in
a white dress covered with tiny green flowers and a white lace
shawl about your shoulders. You had on little green slippers with
black lacings and an enormous leghorn hat with long green
streamers. I know that dress by heart because when I was in prison
and things got too bad, I'd take out my memories and thumb them
over like pictures, recalling every little detail--"

He stopped abruptly and the eager light faded from his face. He
dropped her hands gently and she sat waiting, waiting for his next
words.

"We've come a long way, both of us, since that day, haven't we,
Scarlett? We've traveled roads we never expected to travel.
You've come swiftly, directly, and I, slowly and reluctantly."

He sat down on the table again and looked at her and a small smile
crept back into his face. But it was not the smile that had made
her so happy so short a while before. It was a bleak smile.

"Yes, you came swiftly, dragging me at your chariot wheels.
Scarlett, sometimes I have an impersonal curiosity as to what would
have happened to me without you."

Scarlett went quickly to defend him from himself, more quickly
because treacherously there rose to her mind Rhett's words on this
same subject.

"But I've never done anything for you, Ashley. Without me, you'd
have been just the same. Some day, you'd have been a rich man, a
great man like you are going to be."

"No, Scarlett, the seeds of greatness were never in me. I think
that if it hadn't been for you, I'd have gone down into oblivion--
like poor Cathleen Calvert and so many other people who once had
great names, old names."

"Oh, Ashley, don't talk like that. You sound so sad."

"No, I'm not sad. Not any longer. Once--once I was sad. Now, I'm
only--"

He stopped and suddenly she knew what he was thinking. It was the
first time she had ever known what Ashley was thinking when his
eyes went past her, crystal clear, absent. When the fury of love
had beaten in her heart, his mind had been closed to her. Now, in
the quiet friendliness that lay between them, she could walk a
little way into his mind, understand a little. He was not sad any
longer. He had been sad after the surrender, sad when she begged
him to come to Atlanta. Now, he was only resigned.

"I hate to hear you talk like that, Ashley," she said vehemently.
"You sound just like Rhett. He's always harping on things like
that and something he calls the survival of the fitting till I'm so
bored I could scream."

Ashley smiled.

"Did you ever stop to think, Scarlett, that Rhett and I are
fundamentally alike?"

"Oh, no! You are so fine, so honorable and he--" She broke off,
confused.

"But we are. We came of the same kind of people, we were raised in
the same pattern, brought up to think the same things. And
somewhere along the road we took different turnings. We still
think alike but we react differently. As, for instance, neither of
us believed in the war but I enlisted and fought and he stayed out
till nearly the end. We both knew the war was all wrong. We both
knew it was a losing fight. I was willing to fight a losing fight.

afternoon, she had hoped for the warmth of his hands, the

tenderness of his eyes, a word that would show he cared. This was

the first time they had been utterly alone since the cold day in

the orchard at Tara, the first time their hands had met in any but

formal gestures, and through the long months she had hungered for

closer contact. But now--

How odd that the touch of his hands did not excite her! Once his

very nearness would have set her a-tremble. Now she felt a curious

warm friendliness and content. No fever leaped from his hands to

hers and in his hands her heart hushed to happy quietness. This

puzzled her, made her a little disconcerted. He was still her

Ashley, still her bright, shining darling and she loved him better

than life. Then why--

But she pushed the thought from her mind. It was enough that she

was with him and he was holding her hands and smiling, completely

friendly, without strain or fever. It seemed miraculous that this

could be when she thought of all the unsaid things that lay between

them. His eyes looked into hers, clear and shining, smiling in the

old way she loved, smiling as though there had never been anything

between them but happiness. There was no barrier between his eyes

and hers now, no baffling remoteness. She laughed.

"Oh, Ashley, I'm getting old and decrepit."

"Ah, that's very apparent! No, Scarlett, when you are sixty,

you'll look the same to me. I'll always remember you as you were

that day of our last barbecue, sitting under an oak with a dozen

boys around you. I can even tell you just how you were dressed, in

a white dress covered with tiny green flowers and a white lace

shawl about your shoulders. You had on little green slippers with

black lacings and an enormous leghorn hat with long green

streamers. I know that dress by heart because when I was in prison

and things got too bad, I'd take out my memories and thumb them

over like pictures, recalling every little detail--"

He stopped abruptly and the eager light faded from his face. He

dropped her hands gently and she sat waiting, waiting for his next

words.

"We've come a long way, both of us, since that day, haven't we,

Scarlett? We've traveled roads we never expected to travel.

You've come swiftly, directly, and I, slowly and reluctantly."

He sat down on the table again and looked at her and a small smile

crept back into his face. But it was not the smile that had made

her so happy so short a while before. It was a bleak smile.

"Yes, you came swiftly, dragging me at your chariot wheels.

Scarlett, sometimes I have an impersonal curiosity as to what would

have happened to me without you."

Scarlett went quickly to defend him from himself, more quickly

because treacherously there rose to her mind Rhett's words on this

same subject.

"But I've never done anything for you, Ashley. Without me, you'd

have been just the same. Some day, you'd have been a rich man, a

great man like you are going to be."

"No, Scarlett, the seeds of greatness were never in me. I think

that if it hadn't been for you, I'd have gone down into oblivion--

like poor Cathleen Calvert and so many other people who once had

great names, old names."

"Oh, Ashley, don't talk like that. You sound so sad."

"No, I'm not sad. Not any longer. Once--once I was sad. Now, I'm

only--"

He stopped and suddenly she knew what he was thinking. It was the

first time she had ever known what Ashley was thinking when his

eyes went past her, crystal clear, absent. When the fury of love

had beaten in her heart, his mind had been closed to her. Now, in

the quiet friendliness that lay between them, she could walk a

little way into his mind, understand a little. He was not sad any

longer. He had been sad after the surrender, sad when she begged

him to come to Atlanta. Now, he was only resigned.

"I hate to hear you talk like that, Ashley," she said vehemently.

"You sound just like Rhett. He's always harping on things like

that and something he calls the survival of the fitting till I'm so

bored I could scream."

Ashley smiled.

"Did you ever stop to think, Scarlett, that Rhett and I are

fundamentally alike?"

"Oh, no! You are so fine, so honorable and he--" She broke off,

confused.

"But we are. We came of the same kind of people, we were raised in

the same pattern, brought up to think the same things. And

somewhere along the road we took different turnings. We still

think alike but we react differently. As, for instance, neither of

us believed in the war but I enlisted and fought and he stayed out

till nearly the end. We both knew the war was all wrong. We both

knew it was a losing fight. I was willing to fight a losing fight.