minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 75
Scarlett was better, she was unprepared for what she found. There
was a half-empty bottle of whisky on the table by the bed and the
room reeked with the odor. He looked at her with bright glazed
eyes and his jaw muscles trembled despite his efforts to set his
teeth.

"She's dead?"

"Oh, no. She's much better."

He said: "Oh, my God," and put his head in his hands. She saw his
wide shoulders shake as with a nervous chill and, as she watched
him pityingly, her pity changed to horror for she saw that he was
crying. Melanie had never seen a man cry and of all men, Rhett, so
suave, so mocking, so eternally sure of himself.

It frightened her, the desperate choking sound he made. She had a
terrified thought that he was drunk and Melanie was afraid of
drunkenness. But when he raised his head and she caught one
glimpse of his eyes, she stepped swiftly into the room, closed the
door softly behind her and went to him. She had never seen a man
cry but she had comforted the tears of many children. When she put
a soft hand on his shoulder, his arms went suddenly around her
skirts. Before she knew how it happened she was sitting on the bed
and he was on the floor, his head in her lap and his arms and hands
clutching her in a frantic clasp that hurt her.

She stroked the black head gently and said: "There! There!"
soothingly. "There! She's going to get well."

At her words, his grip tightened and he began speaking rapidly,
hoarsely, babbling as though to a grave which would never give up
its secrets, babbling the truth for the first time in his life,
baring himself mercilessly to Melanie who was at first, utterly
uncomprehending, utterly maternal. He talked brokenly, burrowing
his head in her lap, tugging at the folds of her skirt. Sometimes
his words were blurred, muffled, sometimes they came far too
clearly to her ears, harsh, bitter words of confession and
abasement, speaking of things she had never heard even a woman
mention, secret things that brought the hot blood of modesty to her
cheeks and made her grateful for his bowed head.

She patted his head as she did little Beau's and said: "Hush!
Captain Butler! You must not tell me these things! You are not
yourself. Hush!" But his voice went on in a wild torrent of
outpouring and he held to her dress as though it were his hope of
life.

He accused himself of deeds she did not understand; he mumbled the
name of Belle Watling and then he shook her with his violence as he
cried: "I've killed Scarlett, I've killed her. You don't
understand. She didn't want this baby and--"

"You must hush! You are beside yourself! Not want a baby? Why
every woman wants--"

"No! No! You want babies. But she doesn't. Not my babies--"

"You must stop!"

"You don't understand. She didn't want a baby and I made her.
This--this baby--it's all my damned fault. We hadn't been sleeping
together--"

"Hush, Captain Butler! It is not fit--"

"And I was drunk and insane and I wanted to hurt her--because she
had hurt me. I wanted to--and I did--but she didn't want me.
She's never wanted me. She never has and I tried--I tried so hard
and--"

"Oh, please!"

"And I didn't know about this baby till the other day--when she
fell. She didn't know where I was to write to me and tell me--but
she wouldn't have written me if she had known. I tell you--I tell
you I'd have come straight home--if I'd only known--whether she
wanted me home or not. . . ."

"Oh, yes, I know you would!"

"God, I've been crazy these weeks, crazy and drunk! And when she
told me, there on the steps--what did I do? What did I say? I
laughed and said: 'Cheer up. Maybe you'll have a miscarriage.'
And she--"

Melanie suddenly went white and her eyes widened with horror as she
looked down at the black tormented head writhing in her lap. The
afternoon sun streamed in through the open window and suddenly she
saw, as for the first time, how large and brown and strong his
hands were and how thickly the black hairs grew along the backs of
them. Involuntarily, she recoiled from them. They seemed so
predatory, so ruthless and yet, twined in her skirt, so broken, so
helpless.

Could it be possible that he had heard and believed the preposterous
lie about Scarlett and Ashley and become jealous? True, he had left
town immediately after the scandal broke but-- No, it couldn't be
that. Captain Butler was always going off abruptly on journeys. He
couldn't have believed the gossip. He was too sensible. If that

Scarlett was better, she was unprepared for what she found. There

was a half-empty bottle of whisky on the table by the bed and the

room reeked with the odor. He looked at her with bright glazed

eyes and his jaw muscles trembled despite his efforts to set his

teeth.

"She's dead?"

"Oh, no. She's much better."

He said: "Oh, my God," and put his head in his hands. She saw his

wide shoulders shake as with a nervous chill and, as she watched

him pityingly, her pity changed to horror for she saw that he was

crying. Melanie had never seen a man cry and of all men, Rhett, so

suave, so mocking, so eternally sure of himself.

It frightened her, the desperate choking sound he made. She had a

terrified thought that he was drunk and Melanie was afraid of

drunkenness. But when he raised his head and she caught one

glimpse of his eyes, she stepped swiftly into the room, closed the

door softly behind her and went to him. She had never seen a man

cry but she had comforted the tears of many children. When she put

a soft hand on his shoulder, his arms went suddenly around her

skirts. Before she knew how it happened she was sitting on the bed

and he was on the floor, his head in her lap and his arms and hands

clutching her in a frantic clasp that hurt her.

She stroked the black head gently and said: "There! There!"

soothingly. "There! She's going to get well."

At her words, his grip tightened and he began speaking rapidly,

hoarsely, babbling as though to a grave which would never give up

its secrets, babbling the truth for the first time in his life,

baring himself mercilessly to Melanie who was at first, utterly

uncomprehending, utterly maternal. He talked brokenly, burrowing

his head in her lap, tugging at the folds of her skirt. Sometimes

his words were blurred, muffled, sometimes they came far too

clearly to her ears, harsh, bitter words of confession and

abasement, speaking of things she had never heard even a woman

mention, secret things that brought the hot blood of modesty to her

cheeks and made her grateful for his bowed head.

She patted his head as she did little Beau's and said: "Hush!

Captain Butler! You must not tell me these things! You are not

yourself. Hush!" But his voice went on in a wild torrent of

outpouring and he held to her dress as though it were his hope of

life.

He accused himself of deeds she did not understand; he mumbled the

name of Belle Watling and then he shook her with his violence as he

cried: "I've killed Scarlett, I've killed her. You don't

understand. She didn't want this baby and--"

"You must hush! You are beside yourself! Not want a baby? Why

every woman wants--"

"No! No! You want babies. But she doesn't. Not my babies--"

"You must stop!"

"You don't understand. She didn't want a baby and I made her.

This--this baby--it's all my damned fault. We hadn't been sleeping

together--"

"Hush, Captain Butler! It is not fit--"

"And I was drunk and insane and I wanted to hurt her--because she

had hurt me. I wanted to--and I did--but she didn't want me.

She's never wanted me. She never has and I tried--I tried so hard

and--"

"Oh, please!"

"And I didn't know about this baby till the other day--when she

fell. She didn't know where I was to write to me and tell me--but

she wouldn't have written me if she had known. I tell you--I tell

you I'd have come straight home--if I'd only known--whether she

wanted me home or not. . . ."

"Oh, yes, I know you would!"

"God, I've been crazy these weeks, crazy and drunk! And when she

told me, there on the steps--what did I do? What did I say? I

laughed and said: 'Cheer up. Maybe you'll have a miscarriage.'

And she--"

Melanie suddenly went white and her eyes widened with horror as she

looked down at the black tormented head writhing in her lap. The

afternoon sun streamed in through the open window and suddenly she

saw, as for the first time, how large and brown and strong his

hands were and how thickly the black hairs grew along the backs of

them. Involuntarily, she recoiled from them. They seemed so

predatory, so ruthless and yet, twined in her skirt, so broken, so

helpless.

Could it be possible that he had heard and believed the preposterous

lie about Scarlett and Ashley and become jealous? True, he had left

town immediately after the scandal broke but-- No, it couldn't be

that. Captain Butler was always going off abruptly on journeys. He

couldn't have believed the gossip. He was too sensible. If that