“A sharp little wench，” she thought， and said aloud：“Thank
you， Dilcey， we’ll see about it when Mother comes
home。”“Thank’ee，Ma’m。I gives you good night，” said Dil-cey and，
turning， left the room with her child， Pork danang attendance。 The
supper things cleared away， Gerald resumed his oration， but with
little satisfaction to himself and none at all to his audience。 His
thunderous predictions ofimmedi-ate war and his rhetorical
questions as to whether the South would stand for further insults
from the Yankees only produced faintly bored， “Yes， Papas” and
“No，Pas。 ” Carreen， sitting on a hassock under the big lamp，was
deep in the romance of a girl who had taken the veil after her
lover’s death and， with silent tears of enjoyment oozing from her
eyes， was pleasuably picturing herself in a white coif。 Suellen，
embroidering on what she gigglingly called her “hope chest，” was
wondering if she could pos-sibly detach Stuart Tarleton from her
sister’s side at the barbecue tomorrow and fascinate him with the
sweet womanly qualities which she possessed and Scarlett did not。
And Scarlett was in a tumult about Ashley。 How could Pa talk on and
on about Fort Sumter and the Yankees when he knew her heart was
breaking？ As usualin the very young， she marveled that people could
be so selfishly oblivious to her pain and the world rock along just
the same， in spite of her heartbreak。 Her mind was as if a cydone
had gone through it， and it seemed strange that the dining room
where they sat should be so plaad， so unchanged from what it had
al-ways been。 The heavy mahogany table and sideboards，the massive
silver， the bright rag rugs on the shining floor were all in their
accustomed places， just as if nothing had happened。 It was a
friendly and comfortable room and，ordinarily， Scarlett loved the
quiet hours which the family spent there after supper； but tonight
she hated the sight of it and， if she had not feared her father’s
loudly bawled quesaons， she would have slipped away， down the dark
hall to Ellen’s litde office and cried out her sorrow on the old
sofa。 That was the room that Scarlett liked best in aU the house。
There， Ellen sat before her tall secretary each morning， keeping
the accounts of the plantation and lis-tening to the reports of
jonas Wilkerson， the overseer。There also the family idled while
Ellen’s quill scratched across her ledgers， Gerald in the old
rocker， the girls on the sagging cushions of the sofa that was too
battered and wom for the front of the house。 Scarlett longed to be
there now， alone with Ellen， so she could put her head in her
mother’s lap and cry in peace。 wouldn’t Mother ever come home？
Then， wheels ground sharply on the graveled drive-way， and the soft
murmur of Ellen’s voice dismissing the coachrnan floated into the
room。 The whole group looked up eagerly as she entered rapidly， her
hoops swaying， her face tired and sad。 There entered with her the
faint fra-grance oflemon verbena sachet， which seemed always to
creep from the folds of her dresses， a fragrance that was always
linked in Scarlett’s mind with her mother。 Mammy followed at a few
paces， the leather bag in her hand， her underlip pushed out and her
brow lowering。 Mammy muttered darkly to herself as she waddled，
taking care that her remarks were pitched too low to be understood
but loud enough to register her unqualified disapproval。 “I am
sorry I am so late，” said Ellen， slipping her plaid shawl from
drooping shoulders and handing it to Scarlett， whose cheek she
patted in passing。 Gerald’s face had brightened as if by magic at
her en-trance。 “Is the brat baptized？” he questioned。 “Yes， and
dead， poor thing，” said Ellen。 “I feared Emmie would die， too， but
I think she will live。” “The girls’ faces turned to her， startled
and questioning，and Gerald wagged his head philosophically。”Well，
tis better so that the brat is dead， no doubt，poor fatherle-”“It is
late。 We had better have prayers now，” inter-rupted Ellen so
smoothly that， if Scarlett had not known her mother well， the
interruption would have passed un-noticed。It would be interesting
to know who was the father of Emmie Slattery’s baby， but Scarlett
knew she would never learn the truth of the matter if she waited to
hear it from her mother。 Scarlett suspectedjonas Wilkerson， for she
had frequently seen him walking down the road with Emmie at
nightfall。 Jonas was a Yankee and a bachelor， and the fact that he
was an overseer forever barred him from any contact with the County
soaal life。 There was no family of any standing into which he could
marry， no people with whom he could assoaate except the Slatterys
and riffraff like them。 As he was several cuts above the Slatterys
in education， it was only natural that he should not want to marry
Emmie， no matter how often he might walk with her in the twilight。
Scarlett sighed， for her curiosity was sharp。 Things were always
happening under her mother’s eyes which she noticed no more than if
they had not happened at all。 Ellen ignored aU things contrary to
her ideas of propriety and tried to teach Scarlett to do the same，
but with poor success。
Ellen had stepped to the mantel to take her rosary beads from the
small inlaid casket in which they always reposed when Mammy spoke
up with Firmness。
……
購物車/收銀台(
0
) | 在線留言板
| 付款方式
| 聯絡我們
| 運費計算
| 幫助中心 |
加入書簽
HOME
新書上架
