Gone with the Wind. Volume 1 / Унесенные ветром. Том 1. Маргарет Митчелл

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СКАЧАТЬ may I be damned if I'll have me own daughter telling me what I shall jump and not jump,” he shouted, giving her cheek another pinch. “It's me own neck, so it is. And besides, Missy, what are you doing out here without your shawl?”

      Seeing that he was employing familiar maneuvers to extricate himself from unpleasant conversation, she slipped her arm through his and said: “I was waiting for you. I didn't know you would be so late. I just wondered if you had bought Dilcey.”

      “Bought her I did, and the price has ruined me. Bought her and her little wench, Prissy. John Wilkes was for almost giving them away, but never will I have it said that Gerald O'Hara used friendship in a trade. I made him take three thousand for the two of them.”

      “In the name of Heaven, Pa, three thousand! And you didn't need to buy Prissy!”

      “Has the time come when me own daughters sit in judgment on me?” shouted Gerald rhetorically. “Prissy is a likely little wench and so-”

      “I know her. She's a sly, stupid creature,” Scarlett rejoined calmly, unimpressed by his uproar. “And the only reason you bought her was because Dilcey asked you to buy her.”

      Gerald looked crestfallen and embarrassed, as always when caught in a kind deed, and Scarlett laughed outright at his transparency.

      “Well, what if I did? Was there any use buying Dilcey if she was going to mope about the child? Well, never again will I let a darky on this place marry off it. It's too expensive. Well, come on, Puss, let's go in to supper.”

      The shadows were falling thicker now, the last greenish tinge had left the sky and a slight chill was displacing the balminess of spring. But Scarlett loitered, wondering how to bring up the subject of Ashley without permitting Gerald to suspect her motive. This was difficult, for Scarlett had not a subtle bone in her body; and Gerald was so much like her he never failed to penetrate her weak subterfuges, even as she penetrated his. And he was seldom tactful in doing it.

      “How are they all over at Twelve Oaks?”

      “About as usual. Cade Calvert was there and, after I settled about Dilcey, we all set on the gallery and had several toddies. Cade has just come from Atlanta, and it's all upset they are there and talking war and-”

      Scarlett sighed. If Gerald once got on the subject of war and secession, it would be hours before he relinquished it. She broke in with another line.

      “Did they say anything about the barbecue tomorrow?”

      “Now that I think of it they did. Miss-what's-her-name-the sweet little thing who was here last year, you know, Ashley's cousin-oh, yes, Miss Melanie Hamilton, that's the name-she and her brother Charles have already come from Atlanta and-”

      “Oh, so she did come?”

      “She did, and a sweet quiet thing she is, with never a word to say for herself, like a woman should be. Come now, daughter, don't lag. Your mother will be hunting for us.”

      Scarlett's heart sank at the news. She had hoped against hope that something would keep Melanie Hamilton in Atlanta where she belonged, and the knowledge that even her father approved of her sweet quiet nature, so different from her own, forced her into the open.

      “Was Ashley there, too?”

      “He was.” Gerald let go of his daughter's arm and turned, peering sharply into her face. “And if that's why you came out here to wait for me, why didn't you say so without beating around the bush?”

      Scarlett could think of nothing to say, and she felt her face growing red with annoyance.

      “Well, speak up.”

      Still she said nothing, wishing that it was permissible to shake one's father and tell him to hush his mouth.

      “He was there and he asked most kindly after you, as did his sisters, and said they hoped nothing would keep you from the barbecue tomorrow. I'll warrant nothing will,” he said shrewdly. “And now, daughter, what's all this about you and Ashley?”

      “There is nothing,” she said shortly, tugging at his arm. “Let's go in, Pa.”

      “So now 'tis you wanting to go in,” he observed. “But here I'm going to stand till I'm understanding you. Now that I think of it, 'tis strange you've been recently. Has he been trifling with you? Has he asked to marry you?”

      “No,” she said shortly.

      “Nor will he,” said Gerald.

      Fury flamed in her, but Gerald waved her quiet with a hand.

      “Hold your tongue, Miss! I had it from John Wilkes this afternoon in the strictest confidence that Ashley's to marry Miss Melanie. It's to be announced tomorrow.”

      Scarlett's hand fell from his arm. So it was true!

      A pain slashed at her heart as savagely as a wild animal's fangs. Through it all, she felt her father's eyes on her, a little pitying, a little annoyed at being faced with a problem for which he knew no answer. He loved Scarlett, but it made him uncomfortable to have her forcing her childish problems on him for a solution. Ellen knew all the answers. Scarlett should have taken her troubles to her.

      “Is it a spectacle you've been making of yourself-of all of us?” he bawled, his voice rising as always in moments of excitement. “Have you been running after a man who's not in love with you, when you could have any of the bucks in the County?”

      Anger and hurt pride drove out some of the pain.

      “I haven't been running after him. It-it just surprised me.”

      “It's lying you are!” said Gerald, and then, peering at her stricken face, he added in a burst of kindliness: “I'm sorry, daughter. But after all, you are nothing but a child and there's lots of other beaux.”

      “Mother was only fifteen when she married you, and I'm sixteen,” said Scarlett, her voice muffled.

      “Your mother was different,” said Gerald. “She was never flighty like you. Now come, daughter, cheer up, and I'll take you to Charleston next week to visit your Aunt Eulalie and, what with all the hullabaloo they are having over there about Fort Sumter, you'll be forgetting about Ashley in a week.”

      “He thinks I'm a child,” thought Scarlett, grief and anger choking utterance, “and he's only got to dangle a new toy and I'll forget my bumps.”

      “Now, don't be jerking your chin at me,” warned Gerald. “If you had any sense you'd have married Stuart or Brent Tarleton long ago. Think it over, daughter. Marry one of the twins and then the plantations will run together and Jim Tarleton and I will build you a fine house, right where they join, in that big pine grove and-”

      “Will you stop treating me like a child!” cried Scarlett. “I don't want to go to Charleston or have a house or marry the twins. I only want-” She caught herself but not in time.

      Gerald's voice was strangely quiet and he spoke slowly as if drawing his words from a store of thought seldom used.

      “It's only Ashley you're wanting, and you'll not be having him. And if he wanted to marry you, 'twould be with misgivings that I'd say Yes, for all the fine friendship that's between me and John Wilkes.” And, seeing her startled look, he continued: “I want my girl to be happy and you wouldn't be happy with him.”

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