第187章

“Well, I,” began Frank and again clawed nervously at his beard. “The truth is— Well, Miss Scarlett, I was aiming to ask him for Miss Suellen.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” cried Scarlett in amused amazement, “that you haven’t yet asked Pa for Suellen? And you’ve been courting her for years!”

He flushed and grinned embarrassedly and in general looked like a shy and sheepish boy.

“Well, I—I didn’t know if she’d have me. I’m so much older than she is and—there were so many good-looking young bucks hanging around Tara—”

“Hump!” thought Scarlett, “they were hanging around me, not her!”

“And I don’t know yet if she’ll have me. I’ve never asked her but she must know how I feel. I—I thought I’d ask Mr. O’Hara’s permission and tell him the truth. Miss Scarlett, I haven’t got a cent now. I used to have a lot of money, if you’ll forgive me mentioning it, but right now all I own is my horse and the clothes I’ve got on. You see, when I enlisted I sold most of my land and I put all my money in Confederate bonds and you know what they’re worth now. Less than the paper they’re printed on. And anyway, I haven’t got them now, because they burned up when the Yankees burned my sister’s house. I know I’ve got gall asking for Miss Suellen now when I haven’t a cent but—well, it’s this way. I got to thinking that we don’t know how things are going to turn out about this war. It sure looks like the end of the world for me. There’s nothing we can be sure of and—and I thought it would be a heap of comfort to me and maybe to her if we were engaged. That would be something sure. I wouldn’t ask to marry her till I could take care of her, Miss Scarlett, and I don’t know when that will be. But if true love carries any weight with you, you can be certain Miss Suellen will be rich in that if nothing else.”

He spoke the last words with a simple dignity that touched Scarlett, even in her amusement. It was beyond her comprehension that anyone could love Suellen. Her sister seemed to her a monster of selfishness, of complaints and of what she could only describe as pure cussedness.

“Why, Mr. Kennedy,” she said kindly, “it’s quite all right. I’m sure I can speak for Pa. He always set a store by you and he always expected Suellen to marry you.”

“Did he now?” cried Frank, happiness in his face.

“Indeed yes,” answered Scarlett, concealing a grin as she remembered how frequently Gerald had rudely bellowed across the supper table to Suellen: “How now, Missy! Hasn’t your ardent beau popped the question yet? Shall I be asking him his intentions?”

“I shall ask her tonight,” he said, his face quivering, and he clutched her hand and shook it. “You’re so kind, Miss Scarlett.”

“I’ll send her to’ you,” smiled Scarlett, starting for the parlor. Melanie was beginning to play. The piano was sadly out of tune but some of the chords were musical and Melanie was raising her voice to lead the others in “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing!”

Scarlett paused. It did not seem possible that war had swept over them twice, that they were living in a ravaged country, close to the border of starvation, when this old sweet Christmas hymn was being sung. Abruptly she turned to Frank.

“What did you mean when you said it looked like the end of the world to you?”

“I’ll talk frankly,” he said slowly, “but I wouldn’t want you to be alarming the other ladies with what I say. The war can’t go on much longer. There arent any fresh men to fill the ranks and the desertions are running high—higher than the army likes to admit You see, the men can’t stand to be away from their families when they know they’re starving, so they go home to try to provide for them. I can’t blame them but it weakens the army. And the army can’t fight without food and there isn’t any food. I know because, you see, getting food is my business. I’ve been all up and down this section since we retook Atlanta and there isn’t enough to feed a jaybird. It’s the same way for three hundred miles south to Savannah. The folks are starving and the railroads are torn up and there aren’t any new rifles and the ammunition is giving out and there’s no leather at all for shoes. ... So, you see, the end is almost here.”

But the fading hopes of the Confederacy weighed less heavily on Scarlett than his remark about the scarcity of food. It had been her intention to send Pork out with the horse and wagon, the gold pieces and the United States money to scour the countryside for provisions and material for clothes. But if what Frank said was true—But Macon hadn’t fallen. There must be food in Macon. Just as soon as the commissary department was safely on its way, she’d start Pork for Macon and take the chance of having the precious horse picked up by the army. She’d have to risk it.

“Well, let’s don’t talk about unpleasant things tonight, Mr. Kennedy,” she said. “You go and sit in Mother’s little office and I’ll send Suellen to you so you can—well, so you’ll have a little privacy.”

Blushing, smiling, Frank slipped out of the room and Scarlett watched him go.

“What a pity he can’t marry her now,” she thought. “That would be one less mouth to feed.”

CHAPTER XXIX

THE FOLLOWING APRIL General Johnston, who had been given back the shattered remnants of his old command, surrendered them in North Carolina and the war was over. But not until two weeks later did the news reach Tara. There was too much to do at Tara for anyone to waste time traveling abroad and hearing gossip and, as the neighbors were just as busy as they, there was little visiting and news spread slowly.