minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 75
"Oh, how can you say such things," she cried, stung, the quick
tears coming to her eyes. "You know how I loved her!"

"No, I can't say I did. Most unexpected and it's to your credit,
considering your passion for white trash, that you could appreciate
her at last."

"How can you talk so? Of course I appreciated her! You didn't.
You didn't know her like I did! It isn't in you to understand her--
how good she was--"

"Indeed? Perhaps not."

"She thought of everybody except herself--why, her last words were
about you."

There was a flash of genuine feeling in his eyes as he turned to
her.

"What did she say?"

"Oh, not now, Rhett."

"Tell me."

His voice was cool but the hand he put on her wrist hurt. She did
not want to tell, this was not the way she had intended to lead up
to the subject of her love but his hand was urgent.

"She said--she said-- 'Be kind to Captain Butler. He loves you so
much.'"

He stared at her and dropped her wrist. His eyelids went down,
leaving his face dark and blank. Suddenly he rose and going to the
window, he drew the curtains and looked out intently as if there
were something to see outside except blinding mist.

"Did she say anything else?" he questioned, not turning his head.

"She asked me to take care of little Beau and I said I would, like
he was my own boy."

"What else?"

"She said--Ashley--she asked me to look after Ashley, too."

He was silent for a moment and then he laughed softly. "It's
convenient to have the first wife's permission, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

He turned and even in her confusion she was surprised that there
was no mockery in his face. Nor was there any more interest in it
than in the face of a man watching the last act of a none-too-
amusing comedy.

"I think my meaning's plain enough. Miss Melly is dead. You
certainly have all the evidence you want to divorce me and you
haven't enough reputation left for a divorce to hurt you. And you
haven't any religion left, so the Church won't matter. Then--
Ashley and dreams come true with the blessings of Miss Melly."

"Divorce?" she cried. "No! No!" Incoherent for a moment she
leaped to her feet and running to him caught his arm. "Oh, you're
all wrong! Terribly wrong. I don't want a divorce--I--" She
stopped for she could find no other words.

He put his hand under her chin, quietly turned her face up to the
light and looked for an intent moment into her eyes. She looked up
at him, her heart in her eyes, her lips quivering as she tried to
speak. But she could marshal no words because she was trying to
find in his face some answering emotions, some leaping light of
hope, of joy. Surely he must know, now! But the smooth dark
blankness which had baffled her so often was all that her frantic,
searching eyes could find. He dropped her chin and, turning,
walked back to his chair and sprawled tiredly again, his chin on
his breast, his eyes looking up at her from under black brows in an
impersonal speculative way.

She followed him back to his chair, her hands twisting, and stood
before him.

"You are wrong," she began again, finding words. "Rhett, tonight,
when I knew, I ran every step of the way home to tell you. Oh,
darling, I--"

"You are tired," he said, still watching her. "You'd better go to
bed."

"But I must tell you!"

"Scarlett," he said heavily, "I don't want to hear--anything."

"But you don't know what I'm going to say!"

"My pet, it's written plainly on your face. Something, someone has
made you realize that the unfortunate Mr. Wilkes is too large a
mouthful of Dead Sea fruit for even you to chew. And that same
something has suddenly set my charms before you in a new and
attractive light," he sighed slightly. "And it's no use to talk

"Oh, how can you say such things," she cried, stung, the quick

tears coming to her eyes. "You know how I loved her!"

"No, I can't say I did. Most unexpected and it's to your credit,

considering your passion for white trash, that you could appreciate

her at last."

"How can you talk so? Of course I appreciated her! You didn't.

You didn't know her like I did! It isn't in you to understand her--

how good she was--"

"Indeed? Perhaps not."

"She thought of everybody except herself--why, her last words were

about you."

There was a flash of genuine feeling in his eyes as he turned to

her.

"What did she say?"

"Oh, not now, Rhett."

"Tell me."

His voice was cool but the hand he put on her wrist hurt. She did

not want to tell, this was not the way she had intended to lead up

to the subject of her love but his hand was urgent.

"She said--she said-- 'Be kind to Captain Butler. He loves you so

much.'"

He stared at her and dropped her wrist. His eyelids went down,

leaving his face dark and blank. Suddenly he rose and going to the

window, he drew the curtains and looked out intently as if there

were something to see outside except blinding mist.

"Did she say anything else?" he questioned, not turning his head.

"She asked me to take care of little Beau and I said I would, like

he was my own boy."

"What else?"

"She said--Ashley--she asked me to look after Ashley, too."

He was silent for a moment and then he laughed softly. "It's

convenient to have the first wife's permission, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

He turned and even in her confusion she was surprised that there

was no mockery in his face. Nor was there any more interest in it

than in the face of a man watching the last act of a none-too-

amusing comedy.

"I think my meaning's plain enough. Miss Melly is dead. You

certainly have all the evidence you want to divorce me and you

haven't enough reputation left for a divorce to hurt you. And you

haven't any religion left, so the Church won't matter. Then--

Ashley and dreams come true with the blessings of Miss Melly."

"Divorce?" she cried. "No! No!" Incoherent for a moment she

leaped to her feet and running to him caught his arm. "Oh, you're

all wrong! Terribly wrong. I don't want a divorce--I--" She

stopped for she could find no other words.

He put his hand under her chin, quietly turned her face up to the

light and looked for an intent moment into her eyes. She looked up

at him, her heart in her eyes, her lips quivering as she tried to

speak. But she could marshal no words because she was trying to

find in his face some answering emotions, some leaping light of

hope, of joy. Surely he must know, now! But the smooth dark

blankness which had baffled her so often was all that her frantic,

searching eyes could find. He dropped her chin and, turning,

walked back to his chair and sprawled tiredly again, his chin on

his breast, his eyes looking up at her from under black brows in an

impersonal speculative way.

She followed him back to his chair, her hands twisting, and stood

before him.

"You are wrong," she began again, finding words. "Rhett, tonight,

when I knew, I ran every step of the way home to tell you. Oh,

darling, I--"

"You are tired," he said, still watching her. "You'd better go to

bed."

"But I must tell you!"

"Scarlett," he said heavily, "I don't want to hear--anything."

"But you don't know what I'm going to say!"

"My pet, it's written plainly on your face. Something, someone has

made you realize that the unfortunate Mr. Wilkes is too large a

mouthful of Dead Sea fruit for even you to chew. And that same

something has suddenly set my charms before you in a new and

attractive light," he sighed slightly. "And it's no use to talk