she heard whispering voices outside, and going to the door she saw the frightened negroesstanding in the back hall, dilcey with her arms sagging under the heavy weight of the sleepingbeau, uncle peter crying, and cookie wiping her wide wet face on her apron. all three looked ather, dumbly asking what they were to do now. she looked up the hall toward the sitting room andsaw india and aunt pitty standing speechless, holding each other’s hands and, for once, india hadlost her stiff-necked look. like the negroes, they looked imploringly at her, expecting her to giveinstructions. she walked into the sitting room and the two women closed about her.
oh, scarlett, what—” began aunt pitty, her fat, child’s mouth shaking.
“don’t speak to me or i’ll scream,” said scarlett. overwrought nerves brought sharpness to hervoice and her hands clenched at her sides. the thought of speaking of melanie now, of making theinevitable arrangements that follow a death made her throat tighten. “i don’t want a word out ofeither of you.”
at the authoritative note in her voice, they fell back, helpless hurt looks on their faces. “imustn’t cry in front of them,” she thought. “i mustn’t break now or they’ll begin crying too, andthen the darkies will begin screaming and we’ll all go mad. i must pull myself together. there’s somuch i’ll have to do. see the undertaker and arrange the funeral and see that the house is clean andbe here to talk to people who’ll cry on my neck. ashley can’t do them. i’ve got to do them. oh,what a weary load! it’s always been a weary load and always some one else’s load!”
she looked at the dazed hurt faces of india and pitty and contrition swept her. melanie wouldnot like her to be so sharp with those who loved her.
“i’m sorry i was cross,” she said, speaking with difficulty. “it’s just that i—i’m sorry i was cross, auntie. i’m going out on the porch for a minute. i’ve got to be alone. then i’ll come backand well—”
she patted aunt pitty and went swiftly by her to the front door, knowing if she stayed in thisroom another minute her control would crack. she had to be alone. and she had to cry or her heartwould break.
she stepped onto the dark porch and closed the door behind her and the moist night air was coolupon her face. the rain had ceased and there was no sound except for the occasional drip of waterfrom the eaves. the world was wrapped in a thick mist, a faintly chill mist that bore on its breaththe smell of the dying year. all the houses across the street were dark except one, and the lightfrom a lamp in the window, falling into the street, struggled feebly with the fog, golden particlesfloating in its rays. it was as if the whole world were enveloped in an unmoving blanket of graysmoke. and the whole world was still.
she leaned her head against one of the uprights of the porch and prepared to cry but no tearscame. this was a calamity too deep for tears. her body shook. there still reverberated in her mindthe crashes of the two impregnable citadels of her life, thundering to dust about her ears. she stoodfor a while, trying to summon up her old charm: “i’ll think of all this tomorrow when i can stand itbetter.” but the charm had lost its potency. she had to think of two things, now—melanie and howmuch she loved and needed her; ashley and the obstinate blindness that had made her refuse to seehim as he really was. and she knew that thoughts of them would hurt just as much tomorrow andall the tomorrows of her life.
“i can’t go back in there and talk to them now,” she thought. “i can’t face ashley tonight andcomfort him. not tonight! tomorrow morning i’ll come early and do the things i must do, say thecomforting things i must say. but not tonight. i can’t. i’m going home.”
home was only five blocks away. she would not wait for the sobbing peter to harness thebuggy, would not wait for dr. meade to drive her home. she could not endure the tears of the one,the silent condemnation of the other. she went swiftly down the dark front steps without her coator bonnet and into the misty night. she rounded the corner and started up the long hill towardpeachtree street, walking in a still wet world, and even her footsteps were as noiseless as a dream.
as she went up the hill, her chest tight with tears that would not come, there crept over her anunreal feeling, a feeling that she had been in this same dim chill place before, under a like set ofcircumstances—not once but many times before. how silly, she thought uneasily, quickening hersteps. her nerves were playing her tricks. but the feeling persisted, stealthily pervading her mind.
she peered about her uncertainly and the feeling grew, eerie but familiar, and her head went upsharply like an animal scenting danger. it’s just that i’m worn out, she tried to soothe herself. andthe night’s so queer, so misty. i never saw such thick mist before except—except!
and then she knew and fear squeezed her heart. she knew now. in a hundred nightmares, shehad fled through fog like this, through a haunted country without landmarks, thick with coldcloaking mist, peopled with clutching ghosts and shadows. was she dreaming again or was this herdream come true?
for an instant, reality went out of her and she was lost. the old nightmare feeling was sweeping her, stronger than ever, and her heart began to race. she was standing again amid death andstillness, even as she had once stood at tara. all that mattered in the world had gone out of it, lifewas in ruins and panic howled through her heart like a cold wind. the horror that was in the mistand was the mist laid hands upon her. and she began to run. as she had run a hundred times indreams, she ran now, flying blindly she knew not where, driven by a nameless dread, seeking inthe gray mist for the safety that lay somewhere.
up the dim street she fled, her head down, her heart hammering, the night air wet on her lips, thetrees overhead menacing. somewhere, somewhere in this wild land of moist stillness, there was arefuge! she sped gasping up the long hill, her wet skirts wrapping coldly about her ankles, herlungs bursting, the tight-laced stays pressing her ribs into her heart.
then before her eyes there loomed a light, a row of lights, dim and flickering but none the lessreal. in her nightmare, there had never been any lights, only gray fog. her mind seized on thoselights. lights meant safety, people, reality. suddenly she stopped running, her hands clenching,struggling to pull herself out of her panic, staring intently at the row of gas lamps which hadsignaled to her brain that this was peachtree street, atlanta, and not the gray world of sleep andghosts.
she sank down panting on a carriage block, clutching at her nerves as though they were ropesslipping swiftly through her hands.
“i was running—running like a crazy person!” she thought, her body shaking with lesseningfear, her thudding heart making her sick. “but where was i running?”
her breath came more easily now and she sat with her hand pressed to her side and looked uppeachtree street. there, at the top of the hill, was her own house. it looked as though everywindow bore lights, lights defying the mist to dim their brilliance. home! it was real! she lookedat the dim far-off bulk of the house thankfully, longingly, and something like calm fell on herspirit.
home! that was where she wanted to go. that was where she was running. home to rhett!
at this realization it was as though chains fell away from her and with them the fear which hadhaunted her dreams since the night she stumbled to tara to find the world ended. at the end of theroad to tara she had found security gone, all strength, all wisdom, all loving tenderness, allunderstanding gone—all those things which, embodied in ellen, had been the bulwark of hergirlhood. and, though she had won material safety since that night, in her dreams she was still afrightened child, searching for the lost security of that lost world.
now she knew the haven she had sought in dreams, the place of warm safety which had alwaysbeen bidden from her in the mist. it was not ashley—oh, never ashley! there was no morewarmth in him than in a marsh light, no more security than in quicksand. it was rhett—rhett whohad strong arms to hold her, a broad chest to pillow her tired head, jeering laughter to pull heraffairs into proper perspective. and complete understanding, because he, like her, saw truth astruth, unobstructed by impractical notions of honor, sacrifice, or high belief in human nature. heloved her! why hadn’t she realized that he loved her, for all his taunting remarks to the contrary?
melanie had seen it and with her last breath had said, “be kind to him.”
“oh,” she thought, “ashley’s not the only stupidly blind person. i should have seen.”
for years she had had her back against the stone wall of rhett’s love and had taken it as muchfor granted as she had taken melanie’s love, flattering herself that she drew her strength fromherself alone. and even as she had realized earlier in the evening that melanie had been beside herin her bitter campaigns against life, now she knew that silent in the background, rhett had stood,loving her, understanding her, ready to help. rhett at the bazaar, reading her impatience in her eyesand leading her out in the reel, rhett helping her out of the bondage of mourning, rhett convoyingher through the fire and explosions the night atlanta fell, rhett lending her the money that gaveher her start, rhett who comforted her when she woke in the nights crying with fright from herdreams—why, no man did such things without loving a woman to distraction!
the trees dripped dampness upon her but she did not feel it the mist swirled about her and shepaid it no heed. for when she thought of rhett, with his swarthy face, flashing teeth and dark alerteyes, a trembling came over her.
“i love him,” she thought and, as always, she accepted the truth with little wonder, as a childaccepting a gift. “i don’t know how long i’ve loved him but it’s true. and if it hadn’t been forashley, i’d have realized it long ago. i’ve never been able to see the world at all, because ashleystood in the way.”
she loved him, scamp, blackguard, without scruple or honor—at least honor as ashley saw it“damn ashley’s honor!” she thought. “ashley’s honor has always let me down. yes, from the verybeginning when he kept on coming to see me, even though he knew his family expected him tomarry melanie. rhett has never let me down, even that dreadful night of melly’s reception whenhe ought to have wrung my neck. even when he left me on the road the night atlanta fell, he knewi’d be safe. he knew i’d get through somehow. even when he acted like he was going to make mepay to get that money from him at the yankee camp. he wouldn’t have taken me. he was justtesting me. he’s loved me all along and i’ve been so mean to him. time and again, i’ve hurt himand he was too proud to show it. and when bonnie died— oh, how could i?”
she stood up straight and looked at the house on the hill. she had thought, half an hour ago, thatshe had lost everything in the world, except money, everything that made life desirable, ellen,gerald, bonnie, mammy, melanie and ashley. she had to lose them all to realize that she lovedrhett—loved him because he was strong and unscrupulous, passionate and earthy, like herself.
“i’ll tell him everything,” she thought. “he’ll understand. he’s always understood. i’ll tell himwhat a fool i’ve been and how much i love him and i’ll make it up to him.”
suddenly she felt strong and happy. she was not afraid of the darkness or the fog and she knewwith a singing in her heart that she would never fear them again. no matter what mists might curlaround her in the future, she knew her refuge. she started briskly up the street toward home andthe blocks seemed very long. far, far too long. she caught up her skirts to her knees and began torun lightly. but this time she was not running from fear. she was running because rhett’s armswere at the end of the street.
思嘉听见外面有低语声，便走到门口，只见几个吓怕了的黑人站在后面穿堂里，迪尔茜吃力地抱着沉甸甸的正在睡觉的小博，彼得大叔在痛哭，厨娘在用围裙擦她那张宽阔的泪淋淋的脸。三个人一起瞧着她，默默地询问他们现在该怎么办。她抬头向穿堂那边起居室望去，只见英迪亚和皮蒂姑妈一声不响地站在那里，两人手拉着手，而且英迪亚那倔强的神气总算不见了。她们也跟那些黑人一样好像在恳求她。等待她发布指示。她走进起居室，两个女人立即朝她走来。
“唔，思嘉，怎么----"皮蒂姑妈开口说，她那丰满的娃娃嘴颤抖着。
“先别跟我说，否则我会尖叫起来，"思嘉说。她，由于神经过度紧张，声音已变得尖利，同时把两只手狠狠地叉在腰上。现在她一想起要谈到媚兰，要安排她的后事，喉咙又发紧了。"我叫你们谁也不要吭声。"听了她话里的命令语气，她们不由得倒退了一步，脸上流露出无可奈何的尴尬神色。"我可决不能在她们面前哭呀，"她心里想。"我不能张口，否则她们也要哭了，那时黑人们也会尖叫，就乱成一团了。我必须尽力克制自己，要做的事情多着呢。殡仪馆得去联系，葬礼得安排，房子得打扫干净，还得留在这里跟人们周旋，他们会吊在我脖子上哭的。艾希礼不可能做这些事情，皮蒂和英迪亚也不行。我必须自己去做。
啊，多繁重的担子！怎么我老是碰到这种事，而且都是别人的事呀！"她看看英迪亚和皮蒂的尴尬脸色，内心感到非常痛悔。媚兰是不会喜欢她这样粗暴对待那些爱她的人的。
“我很抱歉刚才发火了，"她有点勉强地说。"这就是说，我----我刚才态度不好，很抱歉，姑妈。我要到外面走廊上去一会儿。我得一个人想想，等我回来后我们再----"她拍拍皮蒂姑妈便向前门走去，因为知道如果再留在这间屋里她就无法再克制自己。她必须单独待一会儿。她得哭一场，否则心都要炸开了。
她来到黑暗的走廊，并随手把门关上。清凉而潮湿的晚风吹拂着她的面孔。雨已停了，除了偶尔听到檐头滴水的声音，周围是一片寂静。世界被包围在满天浓雾中，雾气微觉清凉，带有岁暮年终的意味。街对面的房子全都黑了，只有一家还亮着，窗口的灯光投射到街心，与浓雾无力地相拼搏，金黄的微粒在光线中纷纷游动。整个世界好像都卷在一条笨重的烟灰色毛毯里。歪个世界都寂静无声。
她将头靠在一根廊柱上，真想痛哭一场，但是没有眼泪。
这场灾难实在太深重了，已经不是眼泪所能表现的了。她的身子在颤抖。她生活中两个坚不可破的堡垒崩溃的声音仍在她心中回响，好像在她耳旁轰隆一声坍塌了。她站了一会，想试试她一贯使用的那个决窍：“所有这些，等到明天我比较能经受得住时再去想吧。"可是这个决窍失灵了。现在她有两件事是必须想的：一是媚兰，她多么爱她和需要她；二是艾希礼，以及她自己拒不从实质上去看他的那种盲目的顽固态度。
她知道，想到这两件事时，无论是明天或她一生中哪一个明天，都会一样是痛苦的。
“我现在无法回到屋里去同他们谈话，"她想。"今晚我也无法面对艾希礼安慰他了。今晚决不行！明天早晨我将一早就过来做那些必须做的事，说那些不得不说的安慰话。但是今天晚上不行。我没有办法。我得回家了。"她家离这里只有五个街区。她不想等哭泣的彼得来套马车，也不想等米德大夫来带她回去。她忍受不了前都的眼泪和后者对她的无声谴责。她迅速走下屋前黑暗的台阶，也没穿外衣，没戴帽子，就进入夜雾中去了。她绕过拐弯处，向通往桃树街的一片小丘走去。天湿地滑，到处一平静悄悄，连她的脚步也悄无声息，好像在梦中一般。
她爬上山坡时，眼泪已堵住胸口，可是流不出来，同时有一种虚幻的感觉涌上心头，那就是觉得她以前在同样的情况下，到过这黑暗凄凉的地方，----而且不止一次，而是许多次。"这是多么可笑的事啊，"她不安地想，一面加快脚步。
她的神经在跟她开玩笑呢。可是这种感觉继续存在，而且悄悄地扩展到她的整个意识之中。她疑惑莫解地窥视周围，结果这种感觉更强了，显得又古怪又熟悉，于是她机敬地抬起头来，像只嗅出了危险的野兽似的。"这不过是我太婆乏的原故吧，"她又试着宽慰自己，”夜是这么怪诞，这么雾气迷蒙。
我有前从没见过这样浓密的雾，除非----除非！"接着她明白了，顿时害怕起来。现在她明白了。在无数次的恶梦中，她曾经就在这样的雾里逃跑过，穿过一个经常有鬼魂出没的茫茫无边的地域，那里大雾弥漫，聚居着一群幽灵和鬼影。现在她是不是又在做那个梦了，或者是那个梦变成现实呢？
有一会儿，她离开了现实，完全迷失了。她好像坠入了那个老的恶梦中，比以前哪一次都深，她的心也开始奔腾起来。她又站在死亡与寂静当中，就像她有一次在塔拉那样。世界上一切要紧的东西全不见了，生活成了一片废墟，她心里顿觉惶恐，好比一股冷风扫过似的。迷雾中的恐怖和迷雾本身把她抓住了。于是她开始逃跑。犹如以前无数次在梦中跑过一样，她如今被一种无名的恐惧追赶着，盲目地向不知什么地方飞跑。在灰蒙蒙的雾中寻找那个位于某处的安全地方。
她沿着那条阴暗的大街一路跑去，低着头，心怦怦直跳，迎着湿冷的夜风，顶着狰狞的树影。在这又静又湿的荒地里，一定有个避难所！她气喘吁吁地跑上那一个土坡，这时裙子湿了，清冷地卷着她的小腿，肺好像要炸了似的，扎得紧紧的胸褡勒着两肋，快把她的心脏压扁了。
接着，她眼前出现了灯光，一长列灯光，它们虽然只隐隐约约地闪烁，但却无疑是真的。她的恶梦里可从来没有过灯光，只有灰蒙蒙的迷雾。于是她的心全扑在那些灯光上了。
灯光意味着安全、人们和现实。她突然站住脚，握紧拳头，奋力把自己从惊惶中拖出来，同时仔细凝望着那列闪烁的灯，它们分明告诉她这是亚特兰大的桃树街，而不是睡梦中那个鬼魂出没的阴暗世界。
她在一个停车台上坐下，牢牢地把握住自己的神经，仿佛它们是几根要从她手中留出去的绳索似的。
“我刚才好一阵跑呀，跑呀，就像发疯了！"她心里暗想，吓得发抖的身子略略了镇定了一些，但心脏还在怦怦地跳，很不好受，"可是我在向哪里跑呀？"现在她的呼吸渐渐缓和下来，她一手撑着腰坐在那里，顺着桃树街向前眺望。那边山顶上就是她自己的家了。那里好像每个窗口都点着灯似的，灯光在向浓雾挑战，不让它淹没它们的光辉呢。家啊！这是真的！她感激地、向往地望着远处那幢房子模糊而庞大的姿影，心情显得略略镇静了。
家啊！这就是她要去地方，就是她一路奔跑着要去的地方。就是回到瑞德身边去呀！
明白了这一点，她就好比摆脱掉了身上所有的锁链，以及自从那天晚上狼狈地回到塔拉并发现整个世界都完了以来，她经常在梦中碰到的那种恐惧。那天晚上，当她抵达塔拉时，她发现完全没有了，所有的力量，所有的智慧，所有的亲爱温柔之情，所有的理解----所有体现在爱伦身上、曾经是她童年时代的堡垒的东西，都通通没有一点了。从那天晚上以后，她尽管赢得了物质上的生活保障，但她仍是梦中一个受惊的孩子，仍经常寻找那个失去了世界中的失去的安全。
如今她认识了她在梦中所寻找的那个避难所，那个经常在雾中躲避着她的湿暖安全的地方。那不是艾希礼----唔，从来不是艾希礼！他身上的温暖比沼泽地里的灯光强不了多少，他那里的安全跟在流沙中不相上下。那只有瑞德----瑞德有强壮的臂膀可以拥抱她，有宽阔的胸膛给她疲倦的脑袋当枕头，有嘲讽的笑声使她用正确的眼光来看事物。而且还有全面的理解力，因为他跟她一样，凡事讲求实际，不会被不切实际的观念如荣耀、牺牲或对人性的过分信任所蒙蔽。而且他爱她呢！她怎么没有了解到，尽管他常常从反而嘲骂她，但却是爱她的呀？媚兰看到了这一点，临死时还说过：“要好好待瑞德。"“唔，"她想，"艾希礼不是唯一又蠢又糊涂的人，我自己也是同样呢，否则我应当早就看出来了。"许多年来，她一直倚靠在瑞德的爱这堵石壁上，并且把这看做是理所当然的，就像对媚兰的爱那样，同时还洋洋得意地认为完全是凭她自己的力量呢。而且，就像当天下午她明白了在她与生活进行的几次搏斗中媚兰始终站在她身边，此刻她懂得瑞德也悄悄地站在背后，爱着她，理解着她，随时准备帮助她。在那次义卖会上，瑞德看出了她不甘心寂寞的心情，便把她领出来跳苏格兰舞；瑞德帮助她摆脱了服丧的束缚，瑞德在亚特兰大陷落那天晚上护送她逃出了炮火连天的困境，瑞德借给她钱让她回家，瑞德听见她从那个恶梦中吓得哭醒时给她以安慰----怎么，一个男人要不是对一个女人爱得发疯，他能够做出这样的事来吗？
这时树上的雨水落在她身上，但她一点也没有觉得。雾气在她周围缭绕，她也毫不注意，因为她在想瑞德，想像他那张黝黑的脸，他那雪白的牙齿和机警的眼睛，她正兴奋得浑身哆嗦呢。
“我爱他，"她思忖着，并且照例毫不迟疑地承认这个事实，就像小孩接受一件礼品似的：“我不知道我爱他有多久了，但这确实是真的。而且要不是为了艾希礼，我早就会明白这一点了。由于艾希礼遮住了视线，我一直没看清这个世界呢。“她爱他，爱这个流氓，爱这个无赖，没有犹豫，也不顾名声----至少是艾希礼所讲的那种名声。"让艾希礼的名声见鬼去吧！"她心里想。"艾希礼的名声常常使我坍台。是的，从一开始，当他不断跑来看我的时候，尽管那时她已经知道他家里准备让她娶媚兰了。瑞德却从没坍过我的台，即使在媚兰举行招待会的那个可怕的晚上，那时他本该把我掐死的。即使在亚特兰大陷落那天晚上他中途丢下我的时候，那时因为他知道我已经安全了。他知道我总会闯出去的。即使在北方佬营地里当我向他借钱时，他好像要我用身子做担保似的。其实他并不想要我这个担保。他只是逗着我玩罢了。他一直在爱着我，可是我却一直待他那么坏。我屡次伤害的他的感情，而他却那样爱面子，从不表现出来，后来邦妮死了----唔，我怎么能那样呀？"她挺身站起来，望着山冈上的那幢房子。半个钟头以前她还想过，除了金钱以外，她已经丧失了世界上的一切，那些使她希望活下去的一切，包括爱伦、杰拉尔德、邦妮、嬷嬷、媚兰和艾希礼。她终于在失掉了他们大家之后，才明白过来她是爱瑞德的----爱他，因为她坚强，无所顾忌，热情而粗俗，跟她自己一样。
“我要把一切都告诉他，"她心里想。"他会理解的。他总是理解的。我要告诉他我以前多么愚蠢，现在又多么爱他，而且要报答他的一切。"她忽然感到又坚强又快乐了。她并不惧怕周围的黑暗和浓雾，而且她在心里歌唱着，相信自己从今以后再也不会惧怕它们了。今后，不论有什么样的浓雾在她周围缭绕，她都能找到自己的避难所了。于是她轻快地沿着大街走去，那几个街区好像很远，她恨不得马上就回到家里。远了，太远了。
她把裙子提到膝盖以上，开始轻松地奔跑起来，不过这一次不是因恐惧而奔跑，而是因为前面有瑞德张开双臂站在那里呢。
