RHETT NEVER DEVIATED from his smooth, imperturbable manners, even in their most intimate moments. But Scarlett never lost the old feeling that he was watching her covertly, knew that if she turned her head suddenly she would surprise in his eyes that speculative, waiting look, that look of almost terrible patience that she did not understand.
Sometimes, he was a very comfortable person to live with, for all his unfortunate habit of not permitting anyone in his presence to act a lie, palm off a pretense or indulge in bombast. He listened to her talk of the store and the mills and the saloon, the convicts and the cost of feeding them, and gave shrewd hard-headed advice. He had untiring energy for the dancing and parties she loved and an unending supply of coarse stories with which he regaled her on their infrequent evenings alone when the table was cleared and brandy and coffee before them. She found that he would give her anything she desired, answer any question she asked as long as she was forthright, and refuse her anything she attempted to gain by indirection, hints and feminine angling. He had a disconcerting habit of seeing through her and laughing rudely.
Contemplating the suave indifference with which he generally treated her, Scarlett frequently wondered, but with no real curiosity, why he had married her. Men married for love or a home and children or money but she knew he had married her for none of these things. He certainly did not love her. He referred to her lovely house as an architectural horror and said he would rather live in a well-regulated hotel than a home. And he never once hinted about children as Charles and Frank had done. Once when trying to coquet with him she asked why he married her and was infuriated when he replied with an amused gleam in his eyes: “I married you to keep you for a pet, my dear.”
No, he hadn’t married her for any of the usual reasons men marry women. He had married her solely because he wanted her and couldn’t get her any other way. He had admitted as much the night he proposed to her. He had wanted her, just as he had wanted Belle Watling. This was not a pleasant thought In fact it was a barefaced insult. But she shrugged it off as she had learned to shrug off all unpleasant facts. They had made a bargain and she was quite pleased with her side of the bargain. She hoped he was equally pleased but she did not care very much whether he was or not.
But one afternoon when she was consulting Dr. Meade about a digestive upset, she learned an unpleasant fact which she could not shrug off. It was with real hate in her eyes that she stormed into her bedroom at twilight and told Rhett that she was going to have a baby.
He was lounging in a silk dressing gown in a cloud of smoke and his eyes went sharply to her face as she spoke. But he said nothing. He watched her in silence but there was a tenseness about his pose, as he waited for her next words, that was lost on her. Indignation and despair had claimed her to the exclusion of all other thoughts.
“You know I don’t want any more children! I never wanted any at all. Every time things are going right with me I have to have a baby. Oh, don’t sit there and laugh! You don’t want it either. Oh, Mother of God!”
If he was waiting for words from her, these were not the words he wanted. His face hardened slightly and his eyes became blank.
“Well, why not give it to Miss Melly? Didn’t you tell me she was so misguided as to want another baby?”
“Oh, I could kill you! I won’t have it, I tell you, I won’t!”
“No? Pray continue.”
“Oh, there are things to do. I’m not the stupid country fool I used to be. Now, I know that a woman doesn’t have to have children if she doesn’t want them! There are things —”
He was on his feet and had her by the wrist and there was a hard, driving fear in his face.
“Scarlett, you fool, tell me the truth! You haven’t done anything?”
“No, I haven’t, but I’m going to. Do you think I’m going to have my figure ruined all over again, just when I’ve gotten my waist line down and am having a good time.”
“Where did you get this idea? Who’s been telling you things?”
“Mamie Bart — she —”
The madam of a whore house would know such tricks. That woman never puts foot in this house again, do you understand? After all, it is my house and I’m the master of it. I do not even want you to speak to her again.”
“I’ll do as I please. Turn me loose. Why should you care?”
“I don’t care whether you have one child or twenty, but I do care if you die.”
“Die? Me?”
“Yes, die. I don’t suppose Mamie Bart told you the chances a woman takes when she does a thing like that?”
“No,” said Scarlett reluctantly. “She just said it would fix things up fine.”
“By God, I will kill her!” cried Rhett and his face was black with rage. He looked down into Scarlett’s tear-stained face and some of the wrath faded but it was still hard and set. Suddenly he picked her up in his arms and sat down in the chair, holding her close to him, tightly, as if he feared she would get away from him.
“Listen, my baby, I won’t have you take your life in your hands. Do you hear? Good God, I don’t want children any more than you do, but I can support them. I don’t want to hear any more foolishness out of you, and if you dare try to — Scarlett, I saw a girl die that way once. She was only a — well, but she was a pretty sort at that. It’s not an easy way to die. I —”
“Why, Rhett!” she cried, startled out of her misery at the emotion in his voice. She had never seen him so moved. “Where — who —”
“In New Orleans — oh, years ago. I was young and impressionable.” He bent his head suddenly and buried his lips in her hair. “You’ll have your baby, Scarlett, if I have to handcuff you to my wrist for the next nine months.”
She sat up in his lap and stared into his face with frank curiosity. Under her gaze it was suddenly smooth and bland as though wiped clear by magic. His eyebrows were up and the corner of his mouth was down.
“Do I mean so much to you?” she questioned, dropping her eyelids.
He gave her a level look as though estimating how much coquetry was behind the question. Reading the true meaning of her demeanor, he made casual answer.
“Well, yes. You see, I’ve invested a good deal of money in you, and I’d hate to lose it.”
¯
Melanie came out of Scarlett’s room, weary from the strain but happy to tears at the birth of Scarlett’s daughter. Rhett stood tensely in the hall, surrounded by cigar butts which had burned holes in the fine carpet
“You can go in now, Captain Butler,” she said shyly.
Rhett went swiftly past her into the room and Melanie had a brief glimpse of him bending over the small naked baby in Mammy’s lap before Dr. Meade shut the door. Melanie sank into a chair, her face pinkening with embarrassment that she had unintentionally witnessed so intimate a scene.
“Ah!” she thought “How sweet! How worried poor Captain Butler has been! And he did not take a single drink all this time! How nice of him. So many gentlemen are so intoxicated by the time their babies are born. I fear he needs a drink badly. Dare I suggest it? No, that would be very forward of me.”
She sank gratefully into a chair, her back, which always ached these days, feeling as though it would break in two at the waist line. Oh, how fortunate Scarlett was to have Captain Butler just outside her door while the baby was being born! If only she had had Ashley with her that dreadful day Beau came she would not have suffered half so much. If only that small girl behind those closed doors were hers and not Scarlett’s! Oh, how wicked I am, she thought guiltily. I am coveting her baby and Scarlett has been so good to me. Forgive me, Lord. I wouldn’t really want Scarlett’s baby but — but I would so like a baby of my own!
She pushed a small cushion behind her aching back and thought hungrily of a daughter of her own. But Dr. Meade had never changed his opinion on that subject. And though she was quite willing to risk her life for another child, Ashley would not hear of it. A daughter. How Ashley would love a daughter!
A daughter! Mercy! She sat up in alarm. I never told Captain Butler it was a girl! And of course he was expecting a boy. Oh, how dreadful!
Melanie knew that to a woman a child of either sex was equally welcome but to a man, and especially such a self-willed man as Captain Butler, a girl would be a blow, a reflection upon his manhood. Oh, how thankful she was that God had permitted her only child to be a boy! She knew that, had she been the wife of the fearsome Captain Butler, she would have thankfully died in childbirth rather than present him with a daughter as his first-born.
But Mammy, waddling grinning from the room, set her mind at ease — and at the same time made her wonder just what kind of man Captain Butler really was.
“Wen Ah wuz bathin’ dat chile, jes’ now,” said Mammy, “Ah kinder ‘pologized ter Mist’ Rhett ‘bout it not bein’ a boy. But, Lawd, Miss Melly, you know whut he say? He say, Hesh yo mouf, Mammy! Who want a boy? Boys ain’ no fun. Dey’s jes’ a passel of trouble. Gals is whut is fun. Ah wouldn’ swap disyere gal fer a baker’s dozen of boys.’ Den he try ter snatch de chile frum me, buck nekked as she wuz an’ Ah slap his wrist an’ say ‘B’have yo’seff, Mist’ Rhett! Ah’ll jes’ bide mah time tell you gits a boy, an’ den Ah’ll laff out loud to hear you holler fer joy.’ He grin an’ shake his haid an’ say, ‘Mammy, you is a fool. Boys ain’ no use ter nobody. Ain’ Ah a proof of dat?’ Yas’m, Miss Melly, he ack lak a gempmum ‘bout it,” finished Mammy graciously. It was not lost on Melanie that Rhett’s conduct had gone far toward redeeming him in Mammy’s eyes. “Maybe Ah done been a mite wrong ‘bout Mist’ Rhett. Dis sho is a happy day ter me, Miss Melly. Ah done diapered three ginrations of Robillard gals, an’ it sho is a happy day.”
“Oh, yes, it is a happy day, Mammy. The happiest days are the days when babies come!”
To one person in the house it was not a happy day. Scolded and for the most part ignored, Wade Hampton idled miserably about the dining room. Early that morning, Mammy had waked him abruptly, dressed him hurriedly and sent him with Ella to Aunt Pitty’s house for breakfast. The only explanation he received was that his mother was sick and the noise of his playing might upset her. Aunt Pitty’s house was in an uproar, for the news of Scarlett’s sickness had sent the old lady to bed in a state with Cookie in attendance, and breakfast was a scant meal that Peter concocted for the children. As the morning wore on fear began to possess Wade’s soul. Suppose Mother died? Other boys’ mothers had died. He had seen the hearses move away from the house and heard his small friends sobbing. Suppose Mother should die? Wade loved his mother very much, almost as much as he feared her, and the thought of her being carried away in a black hearse behind black horses with plumes on their bridles made his small chest ache so that he could hardly breathe.
When noon came and Peter was busy in the kitchen, Wade slipped out the front door and hurried home as fast as his short legs could carry him, fear speeding him. Uncle Rhett or Aunt Melly or Mammy surely would tell him the truth. But Uncle Rhett and Aunt Melly were not to be seen and Mammy and Dilcey sped up and down the back stairs with towels and basins of hot water and did not once notice him in the front hall. From upstairs he could hear occasionally the curt tones of Dr. Meade whenever a door opened. Once he heard his mother groan and he burst into sobbing hiccoughs. He knew she was going to die. For comfort, he made overtures to the honey-colored cat which lay on the sunny window sill in the front hall. But Tom, full of years and irritable at disturbances, switched his tail and spat softly.
Finally, Mammy, coming down the front stairs, her apron rumpled and spotted, her head rag awry, saw him and scowled. Mammy had always been Wade’s mainstay and her frown made him tremble.
“You is de wustes’ boy Ah ever seed,” she said. “Ain’ Ah done sont you ter Miss Pitty’s? Gwan back dar!”
“Is Mother going to — will she die?”
“You is de troublesomes’ chile Ah ever seed! Die? Gawdlmighty, no! Lawd, boys is a tawment. Ah doan see why de Lawd sen’s boys ter folks. Now, gwan way from here.”
But Wade did not go. He retreated behind the portieres in the hall, only half convinced by her words. The remark about the troublesomeness of boys stung, for he had always tried his best to be good. Aunt Melly hurried down the stairs half an hour later, pale and tired but smiling to herself. She looked thunderstruck when she saw his woebegone face in the shadows of the drapery. Usually Aunt Melly had all the time in the world to give him. She never said, as Mother so often did: “Don’t bother me now. I’m in a hurry” or “Run away, Wade. I am busy.”
But this morning she said: “Wade, you’ve been very naughty. Why didn’t you stay at Aunt Pitty’s?”
“Is Mother going to die?”