minmarn/Gone_with_the_wind · Datasets at Hugging Face

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she had ever approached understanding any other human being. And
she could understand his shrewd caginess, so like her own, his
obstinate pride that kept him from admitting his love for fear of a
rebuff.

"Ah, darling," she said coming forward, hoping he would put out his
arms and draw her to his knees. "Darling, I'm so sorry but I'll
make it all up to you! We can be so happy, now that we know the
truth and--Rhett--look at me, Rhett! There--there can be other
babies--not like Bonnie but--"

"Thank you, no," said Rhett, as if he were refusing a piece of
bread. "I'll not risk my heart a third time."

"Rhett, don't say such things! Oh, what can I say to make you
understand? I've told you how sorry I am--"

"My darling, you're such a child. You think that by saying,
'I'm sorry,' all the errors and hurts of years past can be
remedied, obliterated from the mind, all the poison drawn from
old wounds. . . . Take my handkerchief, Scarlett. Never, at any
crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief."

She took the handkerchief, blew her nose and sat down. It was
obvious that he was not going to take her in his arms. It was
beginning to be obvious that all his talk about loving her meant
nothing. It was a tale of a time long past, and he was looking at
it as though it had never happened to him. And that was
frightening. He looked at her in an almost kindly way, speculation
in his eyes.

"How old are you, my dear? You never would tell me."

"Twenty-eight," she answered dully, muffled in the handkerchief.

"That's not a vast age. It's a young age to have gained the whole
world and lost your own soul, isn't it? Don't look frightened.
I'm not referring to hell fire to come for your affair with Ashley.
I'm merely speaking metaphorically. Ever since I've known you,
you've wanted two things. Ashley and to be rich enough to tell the
world to go to hell. Well, you are rich enough and you've spoken
sharply to the world and you've got Ashley, if you want him. But
all that doesn't seem to be enough now."

She was frightened but not at the thought of hell fire. She was
thinking: "But Rhett is my soul and I'm losing him. And if I lose
him, nothing else matters! No, not friends or money or--or
anything. If only I had him I wouldn't even mind being poor again.
No, I wouldn't mind being cold again or even hungry. But he can't
mean-- Oh, he can't!"

She wiped her eyes and said desperately:

"Rhett, if you once loved me so much, there must be something left
for me."

"Out of it all I find only two things that remain and they are the
two things you hate the most--pity and an odd feeling of kindness."

Pity! Kindness! "Oh, my God," she thought despairingly. Anything
but pity and kindness. Whenever she felt these two emotions for
anyone, they went hand in hand with contempt. Was he contemptuous
of her too? Anything would be preferable to that. Even the
cynical coolness of the war days, the drunken madness that drove
him the night he carried her up the stairs, his hard fingers
bruising her body, or the barbed drawling words that she now
realized had covered a bitter love. Anything except this
impersonal kindness that was written so plainly in his face.

"Then--then you mean I've ruined it all--that you don't love me any
more?"

"That's right."

"But," she said stubbornly, like a child who still feels that to
state a desire is to gain that desire, "but I love you!"

"That's your misfortune."

She looked up quickly to see if there was a jeer behind those words
but there was none. He was simply stating a fact. But it was a
fact she still would not believe--could not believe. She looked at
him with slanting eyes that burned with a desperate obstinacy and
the sudden hard line of jaw that sprang out through her soft cheek
was Gerald's jaw.

"Don't be a fool, Rhett! I can make--"

He flung up a hand in mock horror and his black brows went up in
the old sardonic crescents.

"Don't look so determined, Scarlett! You frighten me. I see you
are contemplating the transfer of your tempestuous affections from
Ashley to me and I fear for my liberty and my peace of mind. No,
Scarlett, I will not be pursued as the luckless Ashley was pursued.
Besides, I am going away."

Her jaw trembled before she clenched her teeth to steady it. Go
away? No, anything but that! How could life go on without him?
Everyone had gone from her, everyone who mattered except Rhett. He

she had ever approached understanding any other human being. And

she could understand his shrewd caginess, so like her own, his

obstinate pride that kept him from admitting his love for fear of a

rebuff.

"Ah, darling," she said coming forward, hoping he would put out his

arms and draw her to his knees. "Darling, I'm so sorry but I'll

make it all up to you! We can be so happy, now that we know the

truth and--Rhett--look at me, Rhett! There--there can be other

babies--not like Bonnie but--"

"Thank you, no," said Rhett, as if he were refusing a piece of

bread. "I'll not risk my heart a third time."

"Rhett, don't say such things! Oh, what can I say to make you

understand? I've told you how sorry I am--"

"My darling, you're such a child. You think that by saying,

'I'm sorry,' all the errors and hurts of years past can be

remedied, obliterated from the mind, all the poison drawn from

old wounds. . . . Take my handkerchief, Scarlett. Never, at any

crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief."

She took the handkerchief, blew her nose and sat down. It was

obvious that he was not going to take her in his arms. It was

beginning to be obvious that all his talk about loving her meant

nothing. It was a tale of a time long past, and he was looking at

it as though it had never happened to him. And that was

frightening. He looked at her in an almost kindly way, speculation

in his eyes.

"How old are you, my dear? You never would tell me."

"Twenty-eight," she answered dully, muffled in the handkerchief.

"That's not a vast age. It's a young age to have gained the whole

world and lost your own soul, isn't it? Don't look frightened.

I'm not referring to hell fire to come for your affair with Ashley.

I'm merely speaking metaphorically. Ever since I've known you,

you've wanted two things. Ashley and to be rich enough to tell the

world to go to hell. Well, you are rich enough and you've spoken

sharply to the world and you've got Ashley, if you want him. But

all that doesn't seem to be enough now."

She was frightened but not at the thought of hell fire. She was

thinking: "But Rhett is my soul and I'm losing him. And if I lose

him, nothing else matters! No, not friends or money or--or

anything. If only I had him I wouldn't even mind being poor again.

No, I wouldn't mind being cold again or even hungry. But he can't

mean-- Oh, he can't!"

She wiped her eyes and said desperately:

"Rhett, if you once loved me so much, there must be something left

for me."

"Out of it all I find only two things that remain and they are the

two things you hate the most--pity and an odd feeling of kindness."

Pity! Kindness! "Oh, my God," she thought despairingly. Anything

but pity and kindness. Whenever she felt these two emotions for

anyone, they went hand in hand with contempt. Was he contemptuous

of her too? Anything would be preferable to that. Even the

cynical coolness of the war days, the drunken madness that drove

him the night he carried her up the stairs, his hard fingers

bruising her body, or the barbed drawling words that she now

realized had covered a bitter love. Anything except this

impersonal kindness that was written so plainly in his face.

"Then--then you mean I've ruined it all--that you don't love me any

more?"

"That's right."

"But," she said stubbornly, like a child who still feels that to

state a desire is to gain that desire, "but I love you!"

"That's your misfortune."

She looked up quickly to see if there was a jeer behind those words

but there was none. He was simply stating a fact. But it was a

fact she still would not believe--could not believe. She looked at

him with slanting eyes that burned with a desperate obstinacy and

the sudden hard line of jaw that sprang out through her soft cheek

was Gerald's jaw.

"Don't be a fool, Rhett! I can make--"

He flung up a hand in mock horror and his black brows went up in

the old sardonic crescents.

"Don't look so determined, Scarlett! You frighten me. I see you

are contemplating the transfer of your tempestuous affections from

Ashley to me and I fear for my liberty and my peace of mind. No,

Scarlett, I will not be pursued as the luckless Ashley was pursued.

Besides, I am going away."

Her jaw trembled before she clenched her teeth to steady it. Go

away? No, anything but that! How could life go on without him?

Everyone had gone from her, everyone who mattered except Rhett. He