Gone With the Wind

"Fer me, truly, Miss Scarlett?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Well'm -- thankee, Ma'm."

"Would you like for me to take it to Atlanta and have it engraved?"

"Whut's dis engrabed mean?" Pork's voice was suspicious.

"It means to put writing on the back of it, like -- like 'To Pork from the O'Haras -- Well done good and faithful servant.' "

"No'm -- thankee. Ma'm. Never mind de engrabin'." Pork retreated a step, clutching the watch firmly.

A little smile twitched her lips.

"What's the matter, Pork? Don't you trust me to bring it back?"

"Yas'm, Ah trus'es you -- only, well'm, you mout change yo' mind."

"I wouldn't do that."

"Well'm, you mout sell it. Ah spec it's wuth a heap."

"Do you think I'd sell Pa's watch?"

"Yas'm -- ef you needed de money."

"You ought to be beat for that, Pork. I've a mind to take the watch back."

"No'm, you ain'!" The first faint smile of the day showed on Pork's grief-worn face. "Ah knows you -- An' Miss Scarlett --"

"Yes, Pork?"

"Ef you wuz jes' half as nice ter w'ite folks as you is ter niggers, Ah spec de

worl' would treat you better."

"It treats me well enough," she said. "Now, go find Mr. Ashley and tell him I want to see him here, right away."

Ashley sat on Ellen's little writing chair, his long body dwarfing the frail bit of furniture while Scarlett offered him a half-interest in the mill. Not once did his eyes meet hers and he spoke no word of interruption. He sat looking down at his hands, turning them over slowly, inspecting first palms and then backs, as though he had never seen them before. Despite hard work, they were still slender and sensitive looking and remarkably well tended for a farmer's hands.

His bowed head and silence disturbed her a little and she redoubled her efforts to make the mill sound attractive. She brought to bear, too, all the charm of smile and glance she possessed but they were wasted, for he did not raise his eyes. If he would only look at her! She made no mention of the information Will had given her of Ashley's determination to go North and spoke with the outward assumption that no obstacle stood in the way of his agreement with her plan. Still he did not speak and finally, her words trailed into silence. There was a determined squareness about his slender shoulders that alarmed her. Surely he wouldn't refuse! What earthly reason could he have for refusing?

"Ashley," she began again and paused. She had not intended using her pregnancy as an argument, had shrunk from the thought of Ashley even seeing her so bloated and ugly, but as her other persuasions seemed to have made no impression, she decided to use it and her helplessness as a last card.

"You must come to Atlanta. I do need your help so badly now, because I can't look after the mills. It may be months before I can because -- you see -- well, because ..."

"Please!" he said roughly. "Good God, Scarlett!"

He rose and went abruptly to the window and stood with his back to her, watching the solemn single file of ducks parade across the barnyard.

"Is that -- is that why you won't look at me?" she questioned forlornly. "I know I look --"

He swung around in a flash and his gray eyes met hers with an intensity that made her hands go to her throat.

"Damn your looks!" he said with a swift violence. "You know you always look beautiful to me."

Happiness flooded her until her eyes were liquid with tears.