minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

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had exposed her to Ashley in so truthful and so unflattering a
light, she had made up her mind instantly. Ashley should have the
mills and at a price so low he could not help realizing how
generous she was.

"I will sell!" she cried furiously. "Now, what do you think of
that?"

There was the faintest gleam of triumph in Rhett's eyes as he bent
to tie Bonnie's shoe string.

"I think you'll regret it," he said.

Already she was regretting the hasty words. Had they been spoken
to anyone save Rhett she would have shamelessly retracted them.
Why had she burst out like that? She looked at Rhett with an angry
frown and saw that he was watching her with his old keen, cat-at-a-
mouse-hole look. When he saw her frown, he laughed suddenly, his
white teeth flashing. Scarlett had an uncertain feeling that he
had jockeyed her into this position.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" she snapped.

"I?" His brows went up in mock surprise. "You should know me
better. I never go about the world doing good deeds if I can avoid
it."



That night she sold the mills and all her interest in them to
Ashley. She did not lose thereby for Ashley refused to take
advantage of her first low offer and met the highest bid that she
had ever had for them. When she had signed the papers and the
mills were irrevocably gone and Melanie was passing small glasses
of wine to Ashley and Rhett to celebrate the transaction, Scarlett
felt bereft, as though she had sold one of her children.

The mills had been her darlings, her pride, the fruit of her small
grasping hands. She had started with one little mill in those
black days when Atlanta was barely struggling up from ruin and
ashes and want was staring her in the face. She had fought and
schemed and nursed them through the dark times when Yankee
confiscation loomed, when money was tight and smart men going to
the wall. And now when Atlanta was covering its scars and
buildings were going up everywhere and newcomers flocking to the
town every day, she had two fine mills, two lumber yards, a dozen
mule teams and convict labor to operate the business at low cost.
Bidding farewell to them was like closing a door forever on a part
of her life, a bitter, harsh part but one which she recalled with a
nostalgic satisfaction.

She had built up this business and now she had sold it and she was
oppressed with the certainty that, without her at the helm, Ashley
would lose it all--everything that she had worked to build. Ashley
trusted everyone and still hardly knew a two-by-four from a six-by-
eight. And now she would never be able to give him the benefit of
her advice--all because Rhett had told him that she liked to boss
everything.

"Oh, damn Rhett!" she thought and as she watched him the conviction
grew that he was at the bottom of all this. Just how and why she
did not know. He was talking to Ashley and his words brought her
up sharply.

"I suppose you'll turn the convicts back right away," he said.

Turn the convicts back? Why should there be any idea of turning
them back? Rhett knew perfectly well that the large profits from
the mills grew out of the cheap convict labor. And why did Rhett
speak with such certainty about what Ashley's future actions would
be? What did he know of him?

"Yes, they'll go back immediately," replied Ashley and he avoided
Scarlett's dumbfounded gaze.

"Have you lost your mind?" she cried. "You'll lose all the money
on the lease and what kind of labor can you get, anyway?"

"I'll use free darkies," said Ashley.

"Free darkies! Fiddle-dee-dee! You know what their wages will
cost and besides you'll have the Yankees on your neck every minute
to see if you're giving them chicken three times a day and tucking
them to sleep under eiderdown quilts. And if you give a lazy darky
a couple of licks to speed him up, you'll hear the Yankees scream
from here to Dalton and you'll end up in jail. Why, convicts are
the only--"

Melanie looked down into her lap at her twisted hands. Ashley
looked unhappy but obdurate. For a moment he was silent. Then his
gaze crossed Rhett's and it was as if he found understanding and
encouragement in Rhett's eyes--a glance that was not lost on
Scarlett.

"I won't work convicts, Scarlett," he said quietly.

"Well, sir!" her breath was taken away. "And why not? Are you
afraid people will talk about you like they do about me?"

Ashley raised his head.

had exposed her to Ashley in so truthful and so unflattering a

light, she had made up her mind instantly. Ashley should have the

mills and at a price so low he could not help realizing how

generous she was.

"I will sell!" she cried furiously. "Now, what do you think of

that?"

There was the faintest gleam of triumph in Rhett's eyes as he bent

to tie Bonnie's shoe string.

"I think you'll regret it," he said.

Already she was regretting the hasty words. Had they been spoken

to anyone save Rhett she would have shamelessly retracted them.

Why had she burst out like that? She looked at Rhett with an angry

frown and saw that he was watching her with his old keen, cat-at-a-

mouse-hole look. When he saw her frown, he laughed suddenly, his

white teeth flashing. Scarlett had an uncertain feeling that he

had jockeyed her into this position.

"Did you have anything to do with this?" she snapped.

"I?" His brows went up in mock surprise. "You should know me

better. I never go about the world doing good deeds if I can avoid

it."

That night she sold the mills and all her interest in them to

Ashley. She did not lose thereby for Ashley refused to take

advantage of her first low offer and met the highest bid that she

had ever had for them. When she had signed the papers and the

mills were irrevocably gone and Melanie was passing small glasses

of wine to Ashley and Rhett to celebrate the transaction, Scarlett

felt bereft, as though she had sold one of her children.

The mills had been her darlings, her pride, the fruit of her small

grasping hands. She had started with one little mill in those

black days when Atlanta was barely struggling up from ruin and

ashes and want was staring her in the face. She had fought and

schemed and nursed them through the dark times when Yankee

confiscation loomed, when money was tight and smart men going to

the wall. And now when Atlanta was covering its scars and

buildings were going up everywhere and newcomers flocking to the

town every day, she had two fine mills, two lumber yards, a dozen

mule teams and convict labor to operate the business at low cost.

Bidding farewell to them was like closing a door forever on a part

of her life, a bitter, harsh part but one which she recalled with a

nostalgic satisfaction.

She had built up this business and now she had sold it and she was

oppressed with the certainty that, without her at the helm, Ashley

would lose it all--everything that she had worked to build. Ashley

trusted everyone and still hardly knew a two-by-four from a six-by-

eight. And now she would never be able to give him the benefit of

her advice--all because Rhett had told him that she liked to boss

everything.

"Oh, damn Rhett!" she thought and as she watched him the conviction

grew that he was at the bottom of all this. Just how and why she

did not know. He was talking to Ashley and his words brought her

up sharply.

"I suppose you'll turn the convicts back right away," he said.

Turn the convicts back? Why should there be any idea of turning

them back? Rhett knew perfectly well that the large profits from

the mills grew out of the cheap convict labor. And why did Rhett

speak with such certainty about what Ashley's future actions would

be? What did he know of him?

"Yes, they'll go back immediately," replied Ashley and he avoided

Scarlett's dumbfounded gaze.

"Have you lost your mind?" she cried. "You'll lose all the money

on the lease and what kind of labor can you get, anyway?"

"I'll use free darkies," said Ashley.

"Free darkies! Fiddle-dee-dee! You know what their wages will

cost and besides you'll have the Yankees on your neck every minute

to see if you're giving them chicken three times a day and tucking

them to sleep under eiderdown quilts. And if you give a lazy darky

a couple of licks to speed him up, you'll hear the Yankees scream

from here to Dalton and you'll end up in jail. Why, convicts are

the only--"

Melanie looked down into her lap at her twisted hands. Ashley

looked unhappy but obdurate. For a moment he was silent. Then his

gaze crossed Rhett's and it was as if he found understanding and

encouragement in Rhett's eyes--a glance that was not lost on

Scarlett.

"I won't work convicts, Scarlett," he said quietly.

"Well, sir!" her breath was taken away. "And why not? Are you

afraid people will talk about you like they do about me?"

Ashley raised his head.