Chapter - 59 | Gone with the Wind

-nine
THERE WAS NO DOUBT in anyone’s mind that Bonnie Butler was running
wild and needed a ﬁrm hand but she was so general a favorite that no one
had the heart to attempt the necessary ﬁrmness. She had ﬁrst gotten out of
control during the months when she traveled with her father. When she
had been with Rhett in New Orleans and Charleston she had been
permitted to sit up as late as she pleased and had gone to sleep in his arms
in theaters, restaurants and at card tables. Thereafter, nothing short of
force would make her go to bed at the same time as the obedient Ella.
While she had been away with him, Rhett had let her wear any dress she
chose and, since that time, she had gone into tantrums when Mammy tried
to dress her in dimity frocks and pinafores instead of blue taffeta and lace
collars.
There seemed no way to regain the ground which had been lost when
the child was away from home and later when Scarlett had been ill and at
Tara. As Bonnie grew older Scarlett tried to discipline her, tried to keep her
from becoming too headstrong and spoiled, but with little success. Rhett
always sided with the child, no matter how foolish her desires or how
outrageous her behavior. He encouraged her to talk and treated her as an
adult, listening to her opinions with apparent seriousness and pretending to
be guided by them. As a result, Bonnie interrupted her elders whenever she
pleased and contradicted her father and put him in his place. He only
laughed and would not permit Scarlett even to slap the little girl’s hand by
way of reprimand.
“If she wasn’t such a sweet, darling thing, she’d be impossible,” thought
Scarlett ruefully, realizing that she had a child with a will equal to her own.
“She adores Rhett and he could make her behave better if he wanted to.”
But Rhett showed no inclination to make Bonnie behave. Whatever she
did was right and if she wanted the moon she could have it, if he could

reach it for her. His pride in her beauty, her curls, her dimples, her graceful
little gestures was boundless. He loved her pertness, her high spirits and the
quaint sweet manner she had of showing her love for him. For all her
spoiled and willful ways she was such a lovable child that he lacked the
heart to try to curb her. He was her god, the center of her small world, and
that was too precious for him to risk losing by reprimands.
She clung to him like a shadow. She woke him earlier than he cared to
wake, sat beside him at the table, eating alternately from his plate and her
own, rode in front of him on his horse and permitted no one but Rhett to
undress her and put her to sleep in the small bed beside his.
It amused and touched Scarlett to see the iron hand with which her
small child ruled her father. Who would have thought that Rhett, of all
people, would take fatherhood so seriously? But sometimes a dart of
jealousy went through Scarlett because Bonnie, at the age of four,
understood Rhett better than she had ever understood him and could
manage him better than she had ever managed him.
When Bonnie was four years old, Mammy began to grumble about the
impropriety of a girl child riding “a-straddle in front of her pa wid her dress
ﬂyin’ up.” Rhett lent an attentive ear to this remark, as he did to all
Mammy’s remarks about the proper raising of little girls. The result was a
small brown and white Shetland pony with a long silky mane and tail and a
tiny sidesaddle with silver trimmings. Ostensibly the pony was for all three
children and Rhett bought a saddle for Wade too. But Wade inﬁnitely
preferred his St. Bernard dog and Ella was afraid of all animals. So the pony
became Bonnie’s own and was named “Mr. Butler.” The only ﬂaw in
Bonnie’s possessive joy was that she could not still ride astride like her
father, but after he had explained how much more difﬁcult it was to ride on
a sidesaddle, she was content and learned rapidly. Rhett’s pride in her good
seat and her good hands was enormous.
“Wait till she’s old enough to hunt,” he boasted. “There’ll be no one like
her on any ﬁeld. I’ll take her to Virginia then. That’s where the real
hunting is. And Kentucky where they appreciate good riders.”
When it came to making her riding habit, as usual she had her choice of
colors and as usual chose blue.
“But, my darling! Not that blue velvet! The blue velvet is for a party
dress for me,” laughed Scarlett. “A nice black broadcloth is what little girls

wear.” Seeing the small black brows coming together: “For Heaven’s sake,
Rhett, tell her how unsuitable it would be and how dirty it will get.”
“Oh, let her have the blue velvet. If it gets dirty, we’ll make her another
one,” said Rhett easily.
So Bonnie had her blue velvet habit with a skirt that trailed down the
pony’s side and a black hat with a red plume in it, because Aunt Melly’s
stories of Jeb Stuart’s plume had appealed to her imagination. On days that
were bright and clear the two could be seen riding down Peachtree Street,
Rhett reining in his big black horse to keep pace with the fat pony’s gait.
Sometimes they went tearing down the quiet roads about the town,
scattering chickens and dogs and children, Bonnie beating Mr. Butler with
her crop, her tangled curls ﬂying, Rhett holding his horse with a ﬁrm hand
that she might think Mr. Butler was winning the race.
When he had assured himself of her seat, her hands, her utter
fearlessness, Rhett decided that the time had come for her to learn to make
the low jumps that were within the reach of Mr. Butler’s short legs. To this
end, he built a hurdle in the back yard and paid Wash, one of Uncle Peter’s
small nephews, twenty-ﬁve cents a day to teach Mr. Butler to jump. He
began with a bar two inches from the ground and gradually worked up to
the height of a foot.
This arrangement met with the disapproval of the three parties most
concerned, Wash, Mr. Butler and Bonnie. Wash was afraid of horses and
only the princely sum offered induced him to take the stubborn pony over
the bar dozens of times a day; Mr. Butler, who bore with equanimity having
his tail pulled by his small mistress and his hooves examined constantly,
felt that the Creator of ponies had not intended him to put his fat body
over the bar; Bonnie, who could not bear to see anyone else upon her pony,
danced with impatience while Mr. Butler was learning his lessons.
When Rhett ﬁnally decided that the pony knew his business well
enough to trust Bonnie upon him, the child’s excitement was boundless.
She made her ﬁrst jump with ﬂying colors and, thereafter, riding abroad
with her father held no charms for her. Scarlett could not help laughing at
the pride and enthusiasm of father and daughter. She thought, however,
that once the novelty had passed, Bonnie would turn to other things and
the neighborhood would have some peace. But this sport did not pall.
There was a bare track worn from the arbor at the far end of the back yard

to the hurdle, and all morning long the yard resounded with excited yells.
Grandpa Merriwether, who had made the overland trip in 1849, said that
the yells sounded just like an Apache after a successful scalping.
After the ﬁrst week, Bonnie begged for a higher bar, a bar that was a foot
and a half from the ground.
“When you are six years old,” said Rhett. “Then you’ll be big enough for
a higher jump and I’ll buy you a bigger horse. Mr. Butler’s legs aren’t long
enough.”
“They are, too. I jumped Aunt Melly’s rose bushes and they are
’normously high!”
“No, you must wait,” said Rhett, ﬁrm for once. But the ﬁrmness
gradually faded away before her incessant importunings and tantrums.
“Oh, all right,” he said with a laugh one morning and moved the narrow
white cross bar higher. “If you fall off, don’t cry and blame me!”
“Mother!” screamed Bonnie, turning her head up toward Scarlett’s
bedroom. “Mother! Watch me! Daddy says I can!”
Scarlett, who was combing her hair, came to the window and smiled
down at the tiny excited ﬁgure, so absurd in the soiled blue habit.
“I really must get her another habit,” she thought. “Though Heaven
only knows how I’ll make her give up that dirty one.”
“Mother, watch!”
“I’m watching, dear,” said Scarlett smiling.
As Rhett lifted the child and set her on the pony, Scarlett called with a
swift rush of pride at the straight back and the proud set of the head,
“You’re mighty pretty, precious!”
“So are you,” said Bonnie generously and, hammering a heel into Mr.
Butler’s ribs, she galloped down the yard toward the arbor.
“Mother, watch me take this one!” she cried, laying on the crop.
Watch me take this one!
Memory rang a bell far back in Scarlett’s mind. There was something
ominous about those words. What was it? Why couldn’t she remember? She
looked down at her small daughter, so lightly poised on the galloping pony
and her brow wrinkled as a chill swept swiftly through her breast. Bonnie
came on with a rush, her crisp black curls jerking, her blue eyes blazing.
“They are like Pa’s eyes,” thought Scarlett, “Irish blue eyes and she’s just
like him in every way.”

And, as she thought of Gerald, the memory for which she had been
fumbling came to her swiftly, came with the heart stopping clarity of
summer lightning, throwing, for an instant, a whole countryside into
unnatural brightness. She could hear an Irish voice singing, hear the hard
rapid pounding of hooves coming up the pasture hill at Tara, hear a reckless
voice, so like the voice of her child: “Ellen! Watch me take this one!”
“No!” she cried. “No! Oh, Bonnie, stop!”
Even as she leaned from the window there was a fearful sound of
splintering wood, a hoarse cry from Rhett, a mêlée of blue velvet and ﬂying
hooves on the ground. Then Mr. Butler scrambled to his feet and trotted
off with an empty saddle.
* * *
On the third night after Bonnie’s death, Mammy waddled slowly up the
kitchen steps of Melanie’s house. She was dressed in black from her huge
men’s shoes, slashed to permit freedom for her toes, to her black head rag.
Her blurred old eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, and misery cried out
in every line of her mountainous ﬁgure. Her face was puckered in the sad
bewilderment of an old ape but there was determination in her jaw.
She spoke a few soft words to Dilcey who nodded kindly, as though an
unspoken armistice existed in their old feud. Dilcey put down the supper
dishes she was holding and went quietly through the pantry toward the
dining room. In a minute Melanie was in the kitchen, her table napkin in
her hand, anxiety in her face.
“Miss Scarlett isn’t—”
“Miss Scarlett bearin’ up, same as allus,” said Mammy heavily. “Ah din’
ten’ ter ’sturb yo’ supper, Miss Melly. Ah kin wait tell you thoo ter tell you
whut Ah got on mah mine.”
“Supper can wait,” said Melanie. “Dilcey, serve the rest of the supper.
Mammy, come with me.”
Mammy waddled after her, down the hall past the dining room where
Ashley sat at the head of the table, his own little Beau beside him and
Scarlett’s two children opposite, making a great clatter with their soup
spoons. The happy voices of Wade and Ella ﬁlled the room. It was like a

picnic for them to spend so long a visit with Aunt Melly. Aunt Melly was
always so kind and she was especially so now. The death of their younger
sister had affected them very little. Bonnie had fallen off her pony and
Mother had cried a long time and Aunt Melly had taken them home with
her to play in the back yard with Beau and have tea cakes whenever they
wanted them.
Melanie led the way to the small book-lined sitting room, shut the door
and motioned Mammy to the sofa.
“I was going over right after supper,” she said. “Now that Captain
Butler’s mother has come, I suppose the funeral will be tomorrow morning.”
“De fune’l. Dat’s jes’ it,” said Mammy. “Miss Melly, we’s all in deep
trouble an’ Ah’s come ter you fer he’p. Ain’ nuthin’ but weery load, honey,
nuthin’ but weery load.”
“Has Scarlett collapsed?” questioned Melanie worriedly. “I’ve hardly
seen her since Bonnie— She has been in her room and Captain Butler has
been out of the house and—”
Suddenly tears began to ﬂow down Mammy’s black face. Melanie sat
down beside her and patted her arm and, after a moment, Mammy lifted
the hem of her black skirt and dried her eyes.
“You got ter come he’p us, Miss Melly. Ah done de bes’ Ah kin but it
doan do no good.”
“Miss Scarlett—”
Mammy straightened.
“Miss Melly, you knows Miss Scarlett well’s Ah does. Whut dat chile got
ter stan’, de good Lawd give her strent ter stan’. Disyere done broke her
heart but she kin stan’ it. It’s Mist’ Rhett Ah come ’bout.”
“I have so wanted to see him but whenever I’ve been there, he has
either been downtown or locked in his room with— And Scarlett has
looked like a ghost and wouldn’t speak— Tell me quickly, Mammy. You
know I’ll help if I can.”
Mammy wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
“Ah say Miss Scarlett kin stan’ what de Lawd sen’, kase she done had ter
stan’ a-plen’y, but Mist’ Rhett— Miss Melly, he ain’ never had ter stan’
nuthin’ he din’ wanter stan’, not nuthin’. It’s him Ah come ter see you
’bout.”
“But—”

“Miss Melly, you got ter come home wid me, dis evenin’.” There was
urgency in Mammy’s voice. “Maybe Mist’ Rhett lissen ter you. He allus did
think a heap of yo’ ’pinion.”
“Oh, Mammy, what is it? What do you mean?”
Mammy squared her shoulders.
“Miss Melly, Mist’ Rhett done—done los’ his mine. He woan let us put
Lil Miss away.”
“Lost his mind? Oh, Mammy, no!”
“Ah ain’ lyin’. It’s de Gawd’s truff. He ain’ gwine let us buhy dat chile.
He done tole me so hisseff, not mo’n an hour ago.”
“But he can’t—he isn’t—”
“Dat’s huccome Ah say he los’ his mine.”
“But why—”
“Miss Melly, Ah tell you eve’ything. Ah oughtn’ tell nobody, but you is
our fambly an’ you is de onlies’ one Ah kin tell. Ah tell you eve’ything. You
knows whut a sto’ he set by dat chile. Ah ain’ never seed no man, black or
w’ite, set sech a sto’ by any chile. Look lak he go plumb crazy w’en Doctah
Meade say her neck broke. He grab his gun an’ he run right out an’ shoot
dat po’ pony an’, fo’ Gawd, Ah think he gwine shoot hisseff. Ah wuz plumb
’stracted whut wid Miss Scarlett in a swoon an’ all de neighbors in an’ outer
de house an’ Mist’ Rhett cahyin’ on an’ jes’ holin’ dat chile an’ not even
lettin’ me wash her lil face whar de grabbel cut it. An’ w’en Miss Scarlett
come to, Ah think, bress Gawd! Now dey kin comfo’t each other.”
Again the tears began to fall but this time Mammy did not even wipe
them away.
“But w’en she come to, she go inter de room whar he settin’, holin’ Miss
Bonnie, an’ she say: ‘Gimme mah baby whut you kilt.’”
“Oh, no! She couldn’t!”
“Yas’m. Dat whut she say. She say: ‘You kilt her.’ An’ Ah felt so sorry fer
Mist’ Rhett Ah bust out cryin’, kase he look lak a whup houn’. An’ Ah say:
‘Give dat chile ter its mammy. Ah ain’ gwine have no sech goin’s on over
mah Lil Miss.’ An’ Ah tek de chile away frum him an’ tek her inter her
room an’ wash her face. An’ Ah hear dem talkin’ an’ it lak ter tuhn mah
blood cole, whut dey say. Miss Scarlett wuz callin’ him a mudderer fer
lettin’ her try ter jump dat high, an’ him sayin’ Miss Scarlett hadn’ never
keered nuthin’ ’bout Miss Bonnie nor none of her chillun…. ”

“Stop, Mammy! Don’t tell me any more. It isn’t right for you to tell me
this!” cried Melanie, her mind shrinking away from the picture Mammy’s
words evoked.
“Ah knows Ah got no bizness tellin’ you, but mah heart too full ter
know jes’ whut not ter say. Den he tuck her ter de unnertaker’s hisseff an’
he bring her back an’ he put her in her baid in his room. An’ w’en Miss
Scarlett say she b’long in de pahlor in de cofﬁn, Ah thought Mist’ Rhett
gwine hit her. An’ he say, right cole lak: ‘She b’long in mah room.’ An’ he
turn ter me an’ he say: ‘Mammy, you see dat she stay right hyah tell Ah gits
back.’ Den he light outer de house on de hawse an’ he wuz gone tell ’bout
sundown. W’en he come t’arin’ home, Ah seed dat he’d been drinkin’ an’
drinkin’ heavy, but he wuz cahyin’ it well’s usual. He ﬂing inter de house
an’ not even speak ter Miss Scarlett or Miss Pitty or any of de ladies as wuz
callin’, but he ﬂy up de steps an’ th’ow open de do’ of his room an’ den he
yell fer me. W’en Ah comes runnin’ as fas’ as Ah kin, he wuz stan’in’ by de
baid an’ it wuz so dahk in de room Ah couldn’t sceercely see him, kase de
shutters wuz done drawed.
“An’ he say ter me, right ﬁerce lak: ‘Open dem shutters. It’s dahk in
hyah.’ An’ Ah ﬂing dem open an’ he look at me an’, fo’ Gawd, Miss Melly,
mah knees ’bout give way, kase he look so strange. Den he say: ‘Bring
lights. Bring lots of lights. An’ keep dem buhnin’. An’ doan draw no shades
an’ no shutters. Doan you know Miss Bonnie’s ’fraid of de dahk?’”
Melanie’s horror struck eyes met Mammy’s and Mammy nodded
ominously.
“Dat’s whut he say. ‘Miss Bonnie’s ’fraid of de dahk.’”
Mammy shivered.
“W’en Ah gits him a dozen candles, he say ‘Git!’ An’ den he lock de do’
an’ dar he set wid Lil Miss, an’ he din’ open de do’ fer Miss Scarlett even
w’en she beat an’ hollered ter him. An’ dat’s de way it been fer two days.
He woan say nuthin’ ’bout de fune’l, an’ in de mawnin’ he lock de do’ an’
git on his hawse an’ go off ter town. An’ he come back at sundown drunk
an’ lock hisseff in agin, an’ he ain’ et nuthin’ or slept none. An’ now his
ma, Ole Miss Butler, she come frum Cha’ston fer de fune’l an’ Miss Suellen
an’ Mist’ Will, dey come frum Tara, but Mist’ Rhett woan talk ter none of
dem. Oh, Miss Melly, it been awful! An’ it’s gwine be wuss, an’ folks gwine
talk sumpin’ scan’lous.

“An’ den, dis evenin’,” Mammy paused and again wiped her nose on her
hand. “Dis evenin’ Miss Scarlett ketch him in de upstairs hall w’en he
come in, an’ she go in de room wid him an’ she say: ‘De fune’l set fer
termorrer mawnin’.’ An’ he say: ‘Do dat an’ Ah kills you termorrer.’”
“Oh, he must have lost his mind!”
“Yas’m. An’ den dey talks kinder low an’ Ah doan hear all whut dey say,
’cept he say agin ‘bout Miss Bonnie bein’ sceered of de dahk an’ de grabe
pow’ful dahk. An’ affer aw’ile, Miss Scarlett say: ‘You is a ﬁne one ter tek
on so, affer killin’ her ter please yo’ pride.’ An’ he say: ‘Ain’ you got no
mercy?’ An’ she say: ‘No. An’ Ah ain’ got no chile, needer. An’ Ah’m wo’
out wid de way you been ackin’ sence Bonnie wuz kilt. You is a scan’al ter
de town. You been drunk all de time an’ ef you doan think Ah knows whar
you been spendin’ yo’ days, you is a fool. Ah knows you been down ter dat
creeter’s house, dat Belle Watling.’”
“Oh, Mammy, no!”
“Yas’m. Dat whut she said. An’, Miss Melly, it’s de truff. Niggers knows a
heap of things quicker dan w’ite folks, an’ Ah knows dat’s whar he been but
Ah ain’ said nuthin’ ’bout it. An’ he doan deny it. He say: ‘Yas’m, dat’s
whar Ah been an’ you neen tek on, kase you doan give a damn. A bawdy
house is a haben of refuge affer dis house of hell. An’ Belle is got one of de
worl’s kines’ hearts. She doan th’ow it up ter me dat Ah done kilt mah
chile.’”
“Oh,” cried Melanie, stricken to the heart.
Her own life was so pleasant, so sheltered, so wrapped about with people
who loved her, so full of kindness that what Mammy told her was almost
beyond comprehension or belief. Yet there crawled into her mind a
memory, a picture which she hastily put from her, as she would put from
her the thought of another’s nudity. Rhett had spoken of Belle Watling the
day he cried with his head on her knees. But he loved Scarlett. She could
not have been mistaken that day. And of course, Scarlett loved him. What
had come between them? How could a husband and a wife cut each other
to pieces with such sharp knives?
Mammy took up her story heavily.
“Affer a w’ile, Miss Scarlett come outer de room, w’ite as a sheet but her
jaw set, an’ she see me stan’in’ dar an’ she say: ‘De fune’l be termorrer,
Mammy.’ An’ she pass me by lak a ghos’. Den mah heart tuhn over, kase

whut Miss Scarlett say, she mean. An’ whut Mist’ Rhett say, he mean too.
An’ he say he kill her ef she do dat. Ah wuz plumb ’stracted, Miss Melly,
kase Ah done had sumpin’ on mah conscience all de time an’ it weighin’
me down. Miss Melly, it wuz me as sceered Lil Miss of de dahk.”
“Oh, but Mammy, it doesn’t matter—not now.”
“Yas’m, it do. Dat whut de whole trouble. An’ it come ter me Ah better
tell Mist’ Rhett even ef he kill me, kase it on mah conscience. So Ah slip
in de do’ real quick, fo’ he kin lock it, an’ Ah say: ‘Mist’ Rhett, Ah’s come
ter confess.’ An’ he swing roun’ on me lak a crazy man an’ say: ‘Git!’ An’
fo’ Gawd, Ah ain’ never been so sceered! But Ah say: ‘Please, suh, Mist’
Rhett, let me tell you. It’s ’bout ter kill me. It wuz me as sceered Lil Miss of
de dahk.’ An’ den, Miss Melly, Ah put mah haid down an’ waited fer him
ter hit me. But he din’ say nuthin’. An’ Ah say: ‘Ah din’ mean no hahm.
But, Mist’ Rhett, dat chile din’ have no caution an’ she wuzn’ sceered of
nuthin’. An’ she wuz allus gittin’ outer baid affer eve’ybody sleep an’
runnin’ roun’ de house barefoot. An’ it worrit me, kase Ah ’fraid she hu’t
herseff. So Ah tells her dar’s ghos’es an’ buggerboos in de dahk.’
“An’ den—Miss Melly, you know whut he done? His face got right
gentle lak an’ he come ter me an’ put his han’ on mah arm. Dat’s de fust
time he ever done dat. An’ he say: ‘She wuz so brave, wuzn’ she? ’Cept fer
de dahk, she wuzn’ sceered of nuthin’.’ An’ wen Ah bust out cryin’ he say:
‘Now, Mammy,’ an’ he pat me. ‘Now, Mammy, doan you cahy on so. Ah’s
glad you tole me. Ah knows you love Miss Bonnie an’ kase you love her, it
doan matter. It’s whut de heart is dat matter.’ Well’m dat kinder cheered
me up, so Ah ventu’ ter say: ‘Mist’ Rhett, suh, whut ’bout de fune’l?’ Den
he tuhn on me lak a wile man an’ his eyes glitter an’ he say: ‘Good Gawd,
Ah thought you’d unnerstan’ even ef nobody else din’! Does you think
Ah’m gwine ter put mah chile away in de dahk w’en she so sceered of it?
Right now Ah kin hear de way she useter scream w’en she wake up in de
dahk. Ah ain’ gwine have her sceered.’ Miss Melly, den Ah know he los’
his mine. He drunk an’ he need sleep an’ sumpin’ ter eat but dat ain’ all.
He plumb crazy. He jes’ push me outer de do’ an’ say: ‘Git de hell outer
hyah!’
“Ah goes downstairs an’ Ah gits ter thinkin’ dat he say dar ain’ gwine be
no fune’l an’ Miss Scarlett say it be termorrer mawnin’ an’ he say dar be
shootin’. An’ all de kinfolks in de house an’ all de neighbors already

gabblin’ ’bout it lak a ﬂock of guinea hens, an’ Ah thought of you, Miss
Melly. You got ter come he’p us.”
“Oh, Mammy, I couldn’t intrude!”
“Ef you kain, who kin?”
“But what could I do, Mammy?”
“Miss Melly, Ah doan know. But you kin do sumpin’. You kin talk ter
Mist’ Rhett an’ maybe he lissen ter you. He set a gret sto’ by you, Miss
Melly. Maybe you doan know it, but he do. Ah done hear him say time an’
agin, you is de onlies’ gret lady he knows.”
“But—”
Melanie rose to her feet, confused, her heart quailing at the thought of
confronting Rhett. The thought of arguing with a man as grief crazed as the
one Mammy depicted made her go cold. The thought of entering that
brightly lighted room where lay the little girl she loved so much wrung her
heart. What could she do? What could she say to Rhett that would ease his
grief and bring him back to reason? For a moment she stood irresolute and
through the closed door came the sound of her boy’s treble laughter. Like a
cold knife in her heart came the thought of him dead. Suppose her Beau
were lying upstairs, his little body cold and still, his merry laughter hushed.
“Oh,” she cried aloud, in fright, and in her mind she clutched him close
to her heart. She knew how Rhett felt. If Beau were dead, how could she
put him away, alone with the wind and the rain and the darkness?
“Oh! Poor, poor Captain Butler!” she cried. “I’ll go to him now, right
away.”
She sped back to the dining room, said a few soft words to Ashley and
surprised her little boy by hugging him close to her and kissing his blond
curls passionately.
She left the house without a hat, her dinner napkin still clutched in her
hand, and the pace she set was hard for Mammy’s old legs. Once in
Scarlett’s front hall, she bowed brieﬂy to the gathering in the library, to the
frightened Miss Pittypat, the stately old Mrs. Butler, Will and Suellen. She
went up the stairs swiftly, with Mammy panting behind her. For a moment,
she paused before Scarlett’s closed door but Mammy hissed, “No’m, doan
do dat.”
Down the hall Melly went, more slowly now, and stopped in front of
Rhett’s room. She stood irresolutely for a moment as though she longed to

take ﬂight. Then, bracing herself, like a small soldier going into battle, she
knocked on the door and called softly: “Please let me in, Captain Butler.
It’s Mrs. Wilkes. I want to see Bonnie.”
The door opened quickly and Mammy, shrinking back into the shadows
of the hall, saw Rhett huge and dark against the blazing background of
candles. He was swaying on his feet and Mammy could smell the whisky on
his breath. He looked down at Melly for a moment and then, taking her by
the arm, he pulled her into the room and shut the door.
Mammy edged herself stealthily to a chair beside the door and sank into
it wearily, her shapeless body overﬂowing it. She sat still, weeping silently
and praying. Now and then she lifted the hem of her dress and wiped her
eyes. Strain her ears as hard as she might, she could hear no words from the
room, only a low broken humming sound.
After an interminable period, the door cracked open and Melly’s face,
white and strained, appeared.
“Bring me a pot of coffee, quickly, and some sandwiches.”
When the devil drove, Mammy could be as swift as a lithe black sixteen-
year-old and her curiosity to get into Rhett’s room made her work faster.
But her hope turned to disappointment when Melly merely opened the
door a crack and took the tray. For a long time Mammy strained her sharp
ears but she could distinguish nothing except the clatter of silver on china,
and the mufﬂed soft tones of Melanie’s voice. Then she heard the creaking
of the bed as a heavy body fell upon it and, soon after, the sound of boots
dropping to the ﬂoor. After an interval, Melanie appeared in the doorway
but, strive though she might, Mammy could not see past her into the room.
Melanie looked tired and there were tears glistening on her lashes but her
face was serene again.
“Go tell Miss Scarlett that Captain Butler is quite willing for the funeral
to take place tomorrow morning,” she whispered.
“Bress Gawd!” ejaculated Mammy. “How on uth—”
“Don’t talk so loud. He’s going to sleep. And, Mammy, tell Miss Scarlett,
too, that I’ll be here all night and you bring me some coffee. Bring it here.”
“Ter disyere room?”
“Yes, I promised Captain Butler that if he would go to sleep I would sit
up by her all night. Now go tell Miss Scarlett, so she won’t worry any
more.”

Mammy started off down the hall, her weight shaking the ﬂoor, her
relieved heart singing “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” She paused thoughtfully
outside of Scarlett’s door, her mind in a ferment of thankfulness and
curiosity.
“How Miss Melly done it beyon’ me. De angels ﬁght on her side, Ah
specs. Ah’ll tell Miss Scarlett de fune’l termorrer but Ah specs Ah better
keep hid dat Miss Melly settin’ up wid Lil Miss. Miss Scarlett ain’ gwine lak
dat a-tall.”