“I suppose my memory is getting faulty. I should have recalled that you are just like me and that you never do anything without an ulterior motive. Now, let me see. What could you have had up your sleeve, Mrs. Hamilton? It isn’t possible that you were so misguided as to think I would propose matrimony?”
Her face went crimson and she did not answer.
“But you can’t have forgotten my oft-repeated remark that I am not a marrying man?”
When she did not speak, he said with sudden violence:
“You hadn’t forgotten? Answer me.”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” she said wretchedly.
“What a gambler you are, Scarlett,” he jeered. “You took a chance that my incarceration away from female companionship would put me in such a state I’d snap at you like a trout at a worm.”
And that’s what you did, thought Scarlett with inward rage, and if it hadn’t been for my hands —
“Now, we have most of the truth, everything except your reason. See if you can tell me the truth about why you wanted to lead me into wedlock.”
There was a suave, almost teasing note in his voice and she took heart. Perhaps everything wasn’t lost, after all. Of course, she had ruined any hope of marriage but, even in her despair, she was glad. There was something about this immobile man which frightened her, so that now the thought of marrying him was fearful. But perhaps if she was clever and played on his sympathies and his memories, she could secure a loan. She pulled her face into a placating and childlike expression.
“Oh, Rhett, you can help me so much — if you’ll just be sweet.”
“There’s nothing I like better than being — sweet.”
“Rhett, for old friendship’s sake, I want you to do me a favor.”
“So, at last the horny-handed lady comes to her real mission. I feared that ‘visiting the sick and the imprisoned’ was not your proper role. What do you want? Money?”
The bluntness of his question ruined all hopes of leading up to the matter in any circuitous and sentimental way.
“Don’t be mean, Rhett,” she coaxed. “I do want some money. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars.”
“The truth at last. Talking love and thinking money. How truly feminine! Do you need the money badly?”
“Oh, ye — Well, not so terribly but I could use it”
“Three “hundred dollars. That’s a vast amount of money. What do you want it for?”
“To pay taxes on Tara.”
“So you want to borrow some money. Well, since you’re so businesslike, I’ll be businesslike too. What collateral will you give me?”
“What what?”
“Collateral. Security on my investment. Of course, I don’t want to lose all that money.” His voice was deceptively smooth, almost silky, but she did not notice. Maybe everything would turn out nicely after all.
“My earrings.”
“I’m not interested in earrings.”
“I’ll give you a mortgage on Tara.”
“Now just what would I do with a farm?”
“Well, you could — you could — it’s a good plantation. And you wouldn’t lose. I’d pay you back out of next year’s cotton.”
“I’m not so sure.” He tilted back in his chair and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Cotton prices are dropping. Times are so hard and money’s so tight.”
“Oh, Rhett, you are teasing me! You know you have millions!”
There was a warm dancing malice in his eyes as he surveyed her.
“So everything is going nicely and you don’t need the money very badly. Well, I’m glad to hear that. I like to know that all is well with old friends.”
“Oh, Rhett, for God’s sake …” she began desperately, her courage and control breaking,
“Do lower your voice. You don’t want the Yankees to hear you, I hope. Did anyone ever tell you you had eyes like a cat — a cat in the dark?”
“Rhett, don’t! I’ll tell you everything. I do need the money so badly. I — I lied about everything being all right. Everything’s as wrong as it could be. Father is — is — he’s not himself. He’s been queer ever since Mother died and he can’t help me any. He’s just like a child. And we haven’t a single field hand to work the cotton and there’s so many to feed, thirteen of us. And the taxes — they are so high. Rhett, I’ll tell you everything. For over a year we’ve been just this side of starvation. Oh, you don’t know! You can’t know! We’ve never had enough to eat and it’s terrible to wake up hungry and go to sleep hungry. And we haven’t any warm clothes and the children are always cold and sick and —”
“Where did you get the pretty dress?”
“It’s made out of Mother’s curtains,” she answered, too desperate to lie about this shame. “I could stand being hungry and cold but now — now the Carpetbaggers have raised our taxes. And the money’s got to be paid right away. And I haven’t any money except one five-dollar gold piece. I’ve got to have money for the taxes! Don’t you see? If I don’t pay them, I’ll — we’ll lose Tara and we just can’t lose it! I can’t let it go!”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this at first instead of preying on my susceptible heart — always weak where pretty ladies are concerned? No, Scarlett, don’t cry. You’ve tried every trick except that one and I don’t think I could stand it. My feelings are already lacerated with disappointment at discovering it was my money and not my charming self you wanted.”
She remembered that he frequently told bald truths about himself when he spoke mockingly — mocking himself as well as others, and she hastily looked up at him. Were his feelings really hurt? Did he really care about her? Had he been on the verge of a proposal when he saw her palms? Or had he only been leading up to another such odious proposal as he had made twice before? If he really cared about her, perhaps she could smooth him down. But his black eyes raked her in no lover-like way and he was laughing softly.
“I don’t like your collateral. I’m no planter. What else have you to offer?”
Well, she had come to it at last. Now for it! She drew a deep breath and met his eyes squarely, all coquetry and airs gone as her spirit rushed out to grapple that which she feared most.
“I — I have myself.”
“Yes?”
Her jaw line tightened to squareness and her eyes went emerald.
“You remember that night on Aunt Pitty’s porch, during the siege? You said — you said then that you wanted me.”
He leaned back carelessly in his chair and looked into her tense face and his own dark face was inscrutable. Something flickered behind his eyes but he said nothing.
“You said — you said you’d never wanted a woman as much as you wanted me. If you still want me, you can have me, Rhett, I’ll do anything you say but, for God’s sake, write me a draft for the money! My word’s good. I swear it. I won’t go back on it. I’ll put it in writing if you like.”
He looked at her oddly, still inscrutable and as she hurried on she could not tell if he were amused or repelled. If he would only say something, anything! She felt her cheeks getting hot.
“I have got to have the money soon, Rhett. They’ll turn us out in the road and that damned overseer of Father’s will own the place and —”
“Just a minute. What makes you think I still want you? What makes you think you are worth three hundred dollars? Most women don’t come that high.”
She blushed to her hair line and her humiliation was complete.
“Why are you doing this? Why not let the farm go and live at Miss Pittypat’s. You own half that house.”
“Name of God!” she cried. “Are you a fool? I can’t let Tara go. It’s home. I won’t let it go. Not while I’ve got breath left in me!”
“The Irish,” said he, lowering his chair back to level and removing his hands from his pockets, “are the damnedest race. They put so much emphasis on so many wrong things. Land, for instance. And every bit of earth is just like every other bit. Now, let me get this straight, Scarlett. You are coming to me with a business proposition. I’ll give you three hundred dollars and you’ll become my mistress.”
“Yes.”
Now that the repulsive word had been said, she felt somehow easier and hope awoke in her again. He had said “I’ll give you.” There was a diabolic gleam in his eyes as if something amused him greatly.
“And yet, when I had the effrontery to make you this same proposition, you turned me out of the house. And also you called me a number of very hard names and mentioned in passing that you didn’t want a ‘passel of brats.’ No, my dear, I’m not rubbing it in. I’m only wondering at the peculiarities of your mind. You wouldn’t do it for your own pleasure but you will to keep the wolf away from the door. It proves my point that all virtue is merely a matter of prices.”
“Oh, Rhett, how you run on! If you want to insult me, go on and do it but give me the money.”
She was breathing easier now. Being what he was, Rhett would naturally want to torment and insult her as much as possible to pay her back for past slights and for her recent attempted trickery. Well, she could stand it. She could stand anything. Tara was worth it all. For a brief moment it was mid-summer and the afternoon skies were blue and she lay drowsily in the thick clover of Tara’s lawn, looking up at the billowing cloud castles, the fragrance of white blossoms in her nose and the pleasant busy humming of bees in her ears. Afternoon and hush and the far-off sound of the wagons coming in from the spiraling red fields. Worth it all, worth more.
Her head went up.
“Are you going to give me the money?”
He looked as if he were enjoying himself and when he spoke there was suave brutality in his voice.
“No, I’m not,” he said.
For a moment her mind could not adjust itself to his words.
“I couldn’t give it to you, even if I wanted to. I haven’t a cent on me. Not a dollar in Atlanta. I have some money, yes, but not here. And I’m not saying where it is or how much. But if I tried to draw a draft on it, the Yankees would be on me like a duck on a June bug and then neither of us would get it. What do you think of that?”
Her face went an ugly green, freckles suddenly standing out across her nose and her contorted mouth was like Gerald’s in a killing rage. She sprang to her feet with an incoherent cry which made the hum of voices in the next room cease suddenly. Swift as a panther, Rhett was beside her, his heavy hand across her mouth, his arm tight about her waist. She struggled against him madly, trying to bite his hand, to kick his legs, to scream her rage, despair, hate, her agony of broken pride. She bent and twisted every way against the iron of his arm, her heart near bursting, her tight stays cutting off her breath. He held her so tightly, so roughly that it hurt and the hand over her mouth pinched into her jaws cruelly. His face was white under its tan, his eyes hard and anxious as he lifted her completely off her feet, swung her up against his chest and sat down in the chair, holding her writhing in his lap.
“Darling, for God’s sake! Stop! Hush! Don’t yell. They’ll be in here in a minute if you do. Do calm yourself. Do you want the Yankees to see you like this?”
She was beyond caring who saw her, beyond anything except a fiery desire to kill him, but dizziness was sweeping her. She could not breathe; he was choking her; her stays were like a swiftly compressing band of iron; his arms about her made her shake with helpless hate and fury. Then his voice became thin and dim and his face above her swirled in a sickening mist which became heavier and heavier until she no longer saw him — or anything else.
When she made feeble swimming motions to come back to consciousness, she was tired to her bones, weak, bewildered. She was lying back in the chair, her bonnet off, Rhett was slapping her wrist, his black eyes searching her face anxiously. The nice young captain was trying to pour a glass of brandy into her mouth and had spilled it down her neck. The other officers hovered helplessly about, whispering and waving their hands.
“I — guess I must have fainted,” she said, and her voice sounded so far away it frightened her.
“Drink this,” said Rhett, taking the glass and pushing it against her lips. Now she remembered and glared feebly at him but she was too tired for anger.
“Please, for my sake.”
She gulped and choked and began coughing but he pushed it to her mouth again. She swallowed deeply and the hot liquid burned suddenly in her throat.
“I think she’s better now, gentlemen,” said Rhett, “and I thank you very much. The realization that I’m to be executed was too much for her.”
The group in blue shuffled their feet and looked embarrassed and after several clearings of throats, they tramped out. The young captain paused in the doorway.
“If there’s anything more I can do —”
“No, thank you.”
He went out, closing the door behind him.
“Drink some more,” said Rhett
“No.”
“Drink it.”
She swallowed another mouthful and the warmth began spreading through her body and strength flowed slowly back into her shaking legs. She pushed away the glass and tried to rise but he pressed her back.
“Take your hands off me. I’m going.”
“Not yet. Wait a minute. You might faint again.”
“I’d rather faint in the road than be here with you.”
“Just the same, I won’t have you fainting in the road.”
“Let me go. I hate you.”
A faint smile came back to his face at her words.
“That sounds more like you. You must be feeling better.”
She lay relaxed for a moment, trying to summon anger to her aid, trying to draw on her strength. But she was too tired. She was too tired to hate or to care very much about anything. Defeat lay on her spirit like lead. She had gambled everything and lost everything. Not even pride was left. This was the dead end of her last hope. This was the end of Tara, the end of them all. For a long time she lay back with her eyes closed, hearing his heavy breathing near her, and the glow of the brandy crept gradually over her, giving a false strength and warmth. When finally she opened her eyes and looked him in the face, anger had roused again. As her slanting eyebrows rushed down together in a frown Rhett’s old smile came back.
“Now you are better. I can tell it by your scowl.”
“Of course, I’m all right. Rhett Butler, you are hateful, a skunk, if ever I saw one! You knew very well what I was going to say as soon as I started talking and you knew you weren’t going to give me the money. And yet you let me go right on. You could have spared me —”
“Spared you and missed hearing all that? Not much. I have so few diversions here. I don’t know when I’ve ever heard anything so gratifying.” He laughed his sudden mocking laugh. At the sound she leaped to her feet, snatching up her bonnet.
He suddenly had her by the shoulders.
“Not quite yet. Do you feel well enough to talk sense?”
“Let me go!”
“You are well enough, I see. Then, tell me this. Was I the only iron you had in the fire?” His eyes were keen and alert, watching every change in her face.
“What do you mean?”
“Was I the only man you were going to try this on?”
“Is that any of your business?”
“More than you realize. Are there any other men on your string? Tell me!”
“No.”
“Incredible. I can’t imagine you without five or six in reserve. Surely someone will turn up to accept your interesting proposition. I feel so sure of it that I want to give you a little advice.”
“I don’t want your advice.”
“Nevertheless I will give it. Advice seems to be the only thing I can give you at present. Listen to it, for it’s good advice. When you are trying to get something out of a man, don’t blurt it out as you did to me. Do try to be more subtle, more seductive. It gets better results. You used to know how, to perfection. But just now when you offered me your — er — collateral for my money you looked as hard as nails. I’ve seen eyes like yours above a dueling pistol twenty paces from me and they aren’t a pleasant sight. They evoke no ardor in the male breast. That’s no way to handle men, my dear. You are forgetting your early training.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to behave,” she said and wearily put on her bonnet. She wondered how he could jest so blithely with a rope about his neck and her pitiful circumstances before him. She did not even notice that his hands were jammed in his pockets in hard fists as if he were straining at his own impotence.
“Cheer up,” he said, as she tied the bonnet strings. “You can come to my hanging and it will make you feel lots better. It’ll even up all your old scores with me — even this one. And I’ll mention you in my will.”
“Thank you, but they may not hang you till it’s too late to pay the taxes,” she said with a sudden malice that matched his own, and she meant it.