Scarlett felt her courage and self-confidence ooze from her as she realized that the sword which had flashed between her and the world was sheathed forever.
“Melly is the only woman friend I ever had,” she thought forlornly, “the only woman except Mother who really loved me. She’s like Mother, too. Everyone who knew her has clung to her skirts.”
Suddenly it was as if Ellen were lying behind that closed door, leaving the world for a second time. Suddenly she was standing at Tara again with the world about her ears, desolate with the knowledge that she could not face life without the terrible strength of the weak, the gentle, the tender hearted.
She stood in the hall, irresolute, frightened, and the glaring light of the fire in the sitting room threw tall dim shadows on the walls about her. The house was utterly still and the stillness soaked into her like a fine chill rain. Ashley! Where was Ashley?
She went toward the sitting room seeking him like a cold animal seeking the fire but he was not there. She must find him. She had discovered Melanie’s strength and her dependence on it only to lose it in the moment of discovery but there was still Ashley left. There was Ashley who was strong and wise and comforting. In Ashley and his love lay strength upon which to lay her weakness, courage to bolster her fear, ease for her sorrow.
He must be in his room, she thought, and tiptoeing down the hall, she knocked softly. There was no answer, so she pushed the door open. Ashley was standing in front of the dresser, looking at a pair of Melanie’s mended gloves. First he picked up one and looked at it, as though he had never seen it before. Then he laid it down gently, as though it were made of glass, and picked up the other one.
She said: “ Ashley!” in a trembling voice and he turned slowly and looked at her. The drowsy aloofness had gone from his gray eyes and they were wide and unmasked. In them she saw fear that matched her own fear, helplessness weaker than her own, bewilderment more profound than she would ever know. The feeling of dread which had possessed her in the hall deepened as she saw his face. She went toward him.
“I’m frightened,” she said. “Oh, Ashley, hold me. I’m so frightened!”
He made no move to her but stared, gripping the glove tightly in both hands. She put a hand on his arm and whispered: “What is it?”
His eyes searched her intently, hunting, hunting desperately for something he did not find. Finally he spoke and his voice was not his own.
“I was wanting you,” he said. “I was going to run and find you—run like a child wanting comfort—and I find a child, more frightened, running to me.”
“Not you—you can’t be frightened,” she cried. “Nothing has ever frightened you. But I— You’ve always been so strong—”
“If I’ve ever been strong, it was because she was behind me,” he said, his voice breaking, and he looked down at the glove and smoothed the fingers. “And—and—all the strength I ever had is going with her.”
There was such a note of wild despair in his low voice that she dropped her hand from his arm and stepped back. And in the heavy silence that fell between them, she felt that she really understood him for the first time in her life.
“Why—” she said slowly, “why, Ashley, you love her, don’t you?”
He spoke as with an effort.
“She is the only dream I ever had that lived and breathed and did not die in the face of reality.”
“Dreams!” she thought, an old irritation stirring. “Always dreams with him! Never common sense!”
With a heart that was heavy and a little bitter, she said: “You’ve been such a fool, Ashley. Why couldn’t you see that she was worth a million of me?”
“Scarlett, please! If you only knew what I’ve gone through since the doctor—”
“What you’ve gone through! Don’t you think that I— Oh, Ashley, you should have known, years ago, that you loved her and not me! Why didn’t you! Everything would have been so different, so— Oh, you should have realized and not kept me dangling with all your talk about honor and sacrifice! If you’d told me, years ago, I’d have— It would have killed me but I could have stood it somehow. But you wait till now, till Melly’s dying, to find it out and now it’s too late to do anything. Oh, Ashley, men are supposed to know such things—not women! You should have seen so clearly that you loved her all the time and only wanted me like—like Rhett wants that Watling woman!”
He winced at her words but his eyes still met hers, imploring silence, comfort. Every line of his face admitted the truth of her words. The very droop of his shoulders showed that his own self-castigation was more cruel than any she could give. He stood silent before her, clutching the glove as though it were an understanding hand and, in the stillness that followed her words, her indignation fell away and pity, tinged with contempt, took its place. Her conscience smote her. She was kicking a beaten and defenseless man—and she had promised Melanie that she would look after him.
“And just as soon as I promised her, I said mean, hurting things to him and there’s no need for me to say them or for anyone to say them. He knows the truth and it’s killing him,” she thought desolately. “He’s not grown up. He’s a child, like me, and he’s sick with fear at losing her. Melly knew how it would be—Melly knew him far better than I do. That’s why she said look after him and Beau, in the same breath. How can Ashley ever stand this? I can stand it. I can stand anything. I’ve had to stand so much. But he can’t—he can’t stand anything without her.”
“Forgive me, darling,” she said gently, putting out her arms. “I know what you must be suffering. But remember, she doesn’t know anything—she never even suspected— God was that good to us.”
He came to her quickly and his arms went round her blindly. She tiptoed to bring her warm cheek comfortingly against his and with one hand she smoothed the back of his hair.
“Don’t cry, sweet. She’d want you to be brave. She’ll want to see you in a moment and you must be brave. She mustn’t see that you’ve been crying. It would worry her.”