第283章

After Suellen and Will married and Carreen went off to Charleston to the convent， Ashley， Melanie and Beau came to Atlanta， bringing Dilcey with them to cook and nurse. Prissy and Pork were left at Tara until such a time as Will could get other darkies to help him in the fields and then they， too， would come to town.

The little brick house that Ashley took for his family was on Ivy Street directly behind Aunt Pitty’s house and the two back yards ran together， divided only by a ragged overgrown privet hedge. Melanie had chosen it especially for this reason. She said， on the first morning of her return to Atlanta as she laughed and cried and embraced Scarlett and Aunt Pitty， she had been separated from her loved ones for so long that she could never be close enough to them again.

The house had originally been two stories high but the upper floor had been destroyed by shells during the siege and the owner， returning after the surrender， had lacked the money to replace it. He had contented himself with putting a flat roof on the remaining first floor which gave the building the squat， disproportionate look of a child’s playhouse built of shoe boxes. The house was high from the ground， built over a large cellar， and the long sweeping flight of stairs which reached it made it look slightly ridiculous. But the flat， squashed look of the place was partly redeemed by the two fine old oaks which shaded it and a dusty-leaved magnolia， splotched with white blossoms， standing beside the front steps. The lawn was wide and green with thick clover and bordering it was a straggling， unkempt privet hedge， interlaced with sweet-smelling honeysuckle vines. Here and there in the grass， roses threw out sprangles from crushed old stems and pink and white crêpe myrtle bloomed as valiantly as if war had not passed over their heads and Yankee horses gnawed their boughs.

Scarlett thought it quite the ugliest dwelling she had ever seen but， to Melanie， Twelve Oaks in all its grandeur had not been more beautiful. It was home and she and Ashley and Beau were at last together under their own roof.

India Wilkes came back from Macon， where she and Honey had lived since 1864， and took up her residence with her brother， crowding the occupants of the little house. But Ashley and Melanie welcomed her. Times had changed， money was scarce， but nothing had altered the rule of Southern life that families always made room gladly for indigent or unmarried female relatives.

Honey had married and， so India said， married beneath her， a coarse Westerner from Mississippi who had settled in Macon. He had a red face and a loud voice and jolly ways. India had not approved of the match and， not approving， had not been happy in her brother-in-law’s home. She welcomed the news that Ashley now had a home of his own， so she could remove herself from uncongenial surroundings and also from the distressing sight of her sister so fatuously happy with a man unworthy of her.

The rest of the family privately thought that the giggling and simple-minded Honey had done far better than could be expected and they marveled that she had caught any man. Her husband was a gentleman and a man of some means； but to India， born in Georgia and reared in Virginia traditions， anyone not from the eastern seaboard was a boor and a barbarian. Probably Honey’s husband was as happy to be relieved of her company as she was to leave him， for India was not easy to live with these days.

The mantle of spinsterhood was definitely on her shoulders now. She was twenty-five and looked it， and so there was no longer any need for her to try to be attractive. Her pale lashless eyes looked directly and uncompromisingly upon the world and her thin lips were ever set in haughty tightness. There was an air of dignity and pride about her now that， oddly enough， became her better than the determined girlish sweetness of her days at Twelve Oaks. The position she held was almost that of a widow. Everyone knew that Stuart Tarleton would have married her had he not been killed at Gettysburg， and so she was accorded the respect due a woman who had been wanted if not wed.

The six rooms of the little house on Ivy Street were soon scantily furnished with the cheapest pine and oak furniture in Frank’s store for， as Ashley was penniless and forced to buy on credit， he refused anything except the least expensive and bought only the barest necessities. This embarrassed Frank who was fond of Ashley and it distressed Scarlett. Both she and Frank would willingly have given， without any charge， the finest mahogany and carved rosewood in the store， but the Wilkeses obstinately refused. Their house was painfully ugly and bare and Scarlett hated to see Ashley living in the uncarpeted， uncurtained rooms. But he did not seem to notice his surroundings and Melanie， having her own home for the first time since her marriage， was so happy she was actually proud of the place. Scarlett would have suffered agonies of humiliation at having friends find her without draperies and carpets and cushions and the proper number of chairs and teacups and spoons. But Melanie did the honors of her house as though plush curtains and brocade sofas were hers.