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.
"How sweet of you to say that! For I was so ashamed to let you see me--"
"You ashamed? Why should you be ashamed? I'm the one to feel shame and I do. If it
hadn't been for my stupidity you wouldn't be in this fix. You'd never have married Frank. I should never have let you leave Tara last winter. Oh, fool that I was! I should have known you--known you were desperate, so desperate that you'd--I should have--I should have--"His face went haggard.
Scarlett's heart beat wildly. He was regretting that he had not run away with her!
"The least I could have done was go out and commit highway robbery or murder to get
the tax money for you when you had taken us in as beggars. Oh, I messed it up all the way around!"
Her heart contracted with disappointment and some of the happiness went from her, for
these were not the words she hoped to hear.
"I would have gone anyway," she said tiredly. "I couldn't have let you do anything like that. And anyway, it's done now."
"Yes, it's done now," he said with slow bitterness. "You wouldn't have let me do anything dishonorable but you would sell yourself to a man you didn't love--and bear his child, so that my family and I wouldn't starve. It was kind of you to shelter my helplessness."
The edge in his voice spoke of a raw, unhealed wound that ached within him and his
words brought shame to her eyes. He was swift to see it and his face changed to gentleness.
"You didn't think I was blaming you? Dear God, Scarlett! No. You are the bravest woman I've ever known. It's myself I'm blaming."
He turned and looked out of the window again and the shoulders presented to her gaze did
not look quite so square. Scarlett waited a long moment in silence, hoping that Ashley would return to the mood in which he spoke of her beauty, hoping he would say more words that she could treasure. It had been so long since she had seen him and she had lived on memories until they were worn thin. She knew he still loved her. That fact was evident, in every line of him, in every bitter, self-condemnatory word, in his resentment at her bearing Frank's child. She so longed to hear him say it in words, longed to speak words herself that would provoke a
confession, but she dared not. She remembered her promise given last winter in the orchard, that she would never again throw herself at his head. Sadly she knew that promise must be kept if Ashley were to remain near her. One cry from her of love and longing, one look that pleaded for