Home > Books > Gone with the Wind(291)

Gone with the Wind(291)

Author:Margaret Mitchell

"I don't want your money," she began, trying to be coldly dignified.

"Oh, don't you! Your palm is itching to beat the band this minute. If I showed you a quarter, you'd leap on it."

If you have come here to insult me and laugh at my poverty, I will wish you good day,"

she retorted, trying to rid her lap of the heavy ledger so she might rise and make her words more impressive. Instantly, he was on his feet bending over her, laughing as he pushed her back into her chair.

"When will you ever get over losing your temper when you hear the truth? You never

mind speaking the truth about other people, so why should you mind hearing it about yourself?

I'm not insulting you. I think acquisitiveness is a very fine quality."

She was not sure what acquisitiveness meant but as he praised it she felt slightly

mollified.

"I didn't come to gloat over your poverty but to wish you long life and happiness in your marriage. By the way, what did sister Sue think of your larceny?"

"My what?"

"Your stealing Frank from under her nose."

"I did not--"

"Well, we won't quibble about the word. What did she say?"

"She said nothing," said Scarlett. His eyes danced as they gave her the lie.

"How unselfish of her. Now, let's hear about your poverty. Surely I have the right to know, after your little trip out to the jail not long ago. Hasn't Frank as much money as you hoped?"

There was no evading his impudence. Either she would have to put up with it or ask him

to leave. And now she did not want him to leave. His words were barbed but they were the barbs of truth. He knew what she had done and why she had done it and he did not seem to think the less of her for it. And though his questions were unpleasantly blunt, they seemed actuated by a friendly interest. He was one person to whom she could tell the truth. That would be, a relief, for it had been so long since she had told anyone the truth about herself and her motives. Whenever she spoke her mind everyone seemed to be shocked. Talking to Rhett was comparable only to one thing, the feeling of ease and comfort afforded by a pair of old slippers after dancing in a pair too tight.

"Didn't you get the money for the taxes? Don't tell me the wolf is still at the door of Tara."

There was a different tone in his voice.

She looked up to meet his dark eyes and caught an expression which startled and puzzled

her at first, and then made her suddenly smile, a sweet and charming smile which was seldom on her face these days. What a perverse wretch he was, but how nice he could be at times! She knew now that the real reason for his call was not to tease her but to make sure she had gotten the money for which she had been so desperate. She knew now that he had hurried to her as soon as he was released, without the slightest appearance of hurry, to tend her the money if she still needed it. And yet he would torment and insult her and deny that such was his intent, should she accuse him. He was quite beyond all comprehension. Did he really care about her, more than he

was willing to admit? Or did he have some other motive? Probably the latter, she thought. But who could tell? He did such strange things sometimes.

"No," she said, "the wolf isn't at the door any longer. I--I got the money."

"But not without a struggle, I'll warrant. Did you manage to restrain yourself until you got the wedding ring on your finger?"

She tried not to smile at his accurate summing up of her conduct but she could not help

dimpling. He seated himself again, sprawling his long legs comfortably.

"Well, tell me about your poverty. Did Frank, the brute, mislead you about his prospects?

He should be soundly thrashed for taking advantage of a helpless female. Come, Scarlett. tell me everything. You should have no secrets from me. Surely, I know the worst about you."

"Oh, Rhett. you're the worst--well, I don't know what! No, he didn't exactly fool me but--"Suddenly it became a pleasure to unburden herself. "Rhett, if Frank would just collect the money people owe him, I wouldn't be worried about anything. But, Rhett, fifty people owe him and he won't press them. He's so thin skinned. He says a gentleman can't do that to another gentleman. And it may be months and may be never before we get the money."

"Well, what of it? Haven't you enough to eat on until he does collect?"

"Yes, but--well, as a matter of fact, I could use a little money right now." Her eyes brightened as she thought of the mill. Perhaps--

"What for? More taxes?"

"Is that any of your business?"