minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

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They were home again, without warning. The first intimation of
their return was the sound of luggage being thumped on the front-
hall floor and Bonnie's voice crying, "Mother!"

Scarlett hurried from her room to the top of the stairs and saw her
daughter stretching her short plump legs in an effort to climb the
steps. A resigned striped kitten was clutched to her breast.

"Gran'ma gave him to me," she cried excitedly, holding the kitten
out by the scruff.

Scarlett swept her up into her arms and kissed her, thankful that
the child's presence spared her her first meeting alone with Rhett.
Looking over Bonnie's head, she saw him in the hall below, paying
the cab driver. He looked up, saw her and swept off his hat in a
wide gesture, bowing as he did. When she met his dark eyes, her
heart leaped. No matter what he was, no matter what he had done,
he was home and she was glad.

"Where's Mammy?" asked Bonnie, wriggling in Scarlett's grasp and
she reluctantly set the child on her feet.

It was going to be more difficult than she anticipated, greeting
Rhett with just the proper degree of casualness and, as for telling
him about the new baby! She looked at his face as he came up the
steps, that dark nonchalant face, so impervious, so blank. No,
she'd wait to tell him. She couldn't tell him right away. And
yet, such tidings as these belonged first to a husband, for a
husband was always happy to hear them. But she did not think he
would be happy about it.

She stood on the landing, leaning against the banisters and
wondered if he would kiss her. But he did not. He said only:
"You are looking pale, Mrs. Butler. Is there a rouge shortage?"

No word of missing her, even if he didn't mean it. And he might
have at least kissed her in front of Mammy who, after bobbing a
curtsy, was leading Bonnie away down the hall to the nursery. He
stood beside her on the landing, his eyes appraising her carelessly.

"Can this wanness mean that you've been missing me?" he questioned
and though his lips smiled, his eyes did not.

So that was going to be his attitude. He was going to be as
hateful as ever. Suddenly the child she was carrying became a
nauseating burden instead of something she had gladly carried, and
this man before her, standing carelessly with his wide Panama hat
upon his hip, her bitterest foe, the cause of all her troubles.
There was venom in her eyes as she answered, venom that was too
unmistakable to be missed, and the smile went from his face.

"If I'm pale it's your fault and not because I've missed you, you
conceited thing. It's because--" Oh, she hadn't intended to tell
him like this but the hot words rushed to her lips and she flung
them at him, careless of the servants who might hear. "It's
because I'm going to have a baby!"

He sucked in his breath suddenly and his eyes went rapidly over
her. He took a quick step toward her as though to put a hand on
her arm but she twisted away from him, and before the hate in her
eyes his face hardened.

"Indeed!" he said coolly. "Well, who's the happy father? Ashley?"

She clutched the newel post until the ears of the carved lion dug
with sudden pain into her palm. Even she who knew him so well had
not anticipated this insult. Of course, he was joking but there
were some jokes too monstrous to be borne. She wanted to rake her
sharp nails across his eyes and blot out that queer light in them.

"Damn you!" she began, her voice shaking with sick rage. "You--you
know it's yours. And I don't want it any more than you do. No--no
woman would want the children of a cad like you. I wish-- Oh,
God, I wish it was anybody's baby but yours!"

She saw his swarthy face change suddenly, anger and something she
could not analyze making it twitch as though stung.

"There!" she thought in a hot rage of pleasure. "There! I've hurt
him now!"

But the old impassive mask was back across his face and he stroked
one side of his mustache.

"Cheer up," he said, turning from her and starting up the stairs,
"maybe you'll have a miscarriage."

For a dizzy moment she thought what childbearing meant, the nausea
that tore her, the tedious waiting, the thickening of her figure,
the hours of pain. Things no man could ever realize. And he dared
to joke. She would claw him. Nothing but the sight of blood upon
his dark face would ease this pain in her heart. She lunged for
him, swift as a cat, but with a light startled movement, he
sidestepped, throwing up his arm to ward her off. She was standing
on the edge of the freshly waxed top step, and as her arm with the
whole weight of her body behind it, struck his out-thrust arm, she
lost her balance. She made a wild clutch for the newel post and
missed it. She went down the stairs backwards, feeling a sickening
dart of pain in her ribs as she landed. And, too dazed to catch

They were home again, without warning. The first intimation of

their return was the sound of luggage being thumped on the front-

hall floor and Bonnie's voice crying, "Mother!"

Scarlett hurried from her room to the top of the stairs and saw her

daughter stretching her short plump legs in an effort to climb the

steps. A resigned striped kitten was clutched to her breast.

"Gran'ma gave him to me," she cried excitedly, holding the kitten

out by the scruff.

Scarlett swept her up into her arms and kissed her, thankful that

the child's presence spared her her first meeting alone with Rhett.

Looking over Bonnie's head, she saw him in the hall below, paying

the cab driver. He looked up, saw her and swept off his hat in a

wide gesture, bowing as he did. When she met his dark eyes, her

heart leaped. No matter what he was, no matter what he had done,

he was home and she was glad.

"Where's Mammy?" asked Bonnie, wriggling in Scarlett's grasp and

she reluctantly set the child on her feet.

It was going to be more difficult than she anticipated, greeting

Rhett with just the proper degree of casualness and, as for telling

him about the new baby! She looked at his face as he came up the

steps, that dark nonchalant face, so impervious, so blank. No,

she'd wait to tell him. She couldn't tell him right away. And

yet, such tidings as these belonged first to a husband, for a

husband was always happy to hear them. But she did not think he

would be happy about it.

She stood on the landing, leaning against the banisters and

wondered if he would kiss her. But he did not. He said only:

"You are looking pale, Mrs. Butler. Is there a rouge shortage?"

No word of missing her, even if he didn't mean it. And he might

have at least kissed her in front of Mammy who, after bobbing a

curtsy, was leading Bonnie away down the hall to the nursery. He

stood beside her on the landing, his eyes appraising her carelessly.

"Can this wanness mean that you've been missing me?" he questioned

and though his lips smiled, his eyes did not.

So that was going to be his attitude. He was going to be as

hateful as ever. Suddenly the child she was carrying became a

nauseating burden instead of something she had gladly carried, and

this man before her, standing carelessly with his wide Panama hat

upon his hip, her bitterest foe, the cause of all her troubles.

There was venom in her eyes as she answered, venom that was too

unmistakable to be missed, and the smile went from his face.

"If I'm pale it's your fault and not because I've missed you, you

conceited thing. It's because--" Oh, she hadn't intended to tell

him like this but the hot words rushed to her lips and she flung

them at him, careless of the servants who might hear. "It's

because I'm going to have a baby!"

He sucked in his breath suddenly and his eyes went rapidly over

her. He took a quick step toward her as though to put a hand on

her arm but she twisted away from him, and before the hate in her

eyes his face hardened.

"Indeed!" he said coolly. "Well, who's the happy father? Ashley?"

She clutched the newel post until the ears of the carved lion dug

with sudden pain into her palm. Even she who knew him so well had

not anticipated this insult. Of course, he was joking but there

were some jokes too monstrous to be borne. She wanted to rake her

sharp nails across his eyes and blot out that queer light in them.

"Damn you!" she began, her voice shaking with sick rage. "You--you

know it's yours. And I don't want it any more than you do. No--no

woman would want the children of a cad like you. I wish-- Oh,

God, I wish it was anybody's baby but yours!"

She saw his swarthy face change suddenly, anger and something she

could not analyze making it twitch as though stung.

"There!" she thought in a hot rage of pleasure. "There! I've hurt

him now!"

But the old impassive mask was back across his face and he stroked

one side of his mustache.

"Cheer up," he said, turning from her and starting up the stairs,

"maybe you'll have a miscarriage."

For a dizzy moment she thought what childbearing meant, the nausea

that tore her, the tedious waiting, the thickening of her figure,

the hours of pain. Things no man could ever realize. And he dared

to joke. She would claw him. Nothing but the sight of blood upon

his dark face would ease this pain in her heart. She lunged for

him, swift as a cat, but with a light startled movement, he

sidestepped, throwing up his arm to ward her off. She was standing

on the edge of the freshly waxed top step, and as her arm with the

whole weight of her body behind it, struck his out-thrust arm, she

lost her balance. She made a wild clutch for the newel post and

missed it. She went down the stairs backwards, feeling a sickening

dart of pain in her ribs as she landed. And, too dazed to catch