Now she was indeed confused and embarrassed, for she remembered the night on this very porch during the siege when he had said: “I am not a marrying man” and casually suggested that she become his mistress—remembered, too, the terrible day when he was in jail and was shamed by the memory. A slow malicious smile went over his face as he read her eyes.
“But I will satisfy your vulgar curiosity since you ask such pointed questions. It isn’t a sweetheart that takes me to New Orleans. It’s a child, a little boy.”
“A little boy!” The shock of this unexpected information wiped out her confusion.
“Yes, he is my legal ward and I am responsible for him. He’s in school in New Orleans. I go there frequently to see him.”
“And take him presents?” So, she thought, that’s how he always knows what kind of presents Wade likes!
“Yes,” he said shortly, unwillingly.
“Well, I never! Is he handsome?”
“Too handsome for his own good.”
“Is he a nice little boy?”
“No. He’s a perfect hellion. I wish he had never been born. Boys are troublesome creatures. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
He looked suddenly angry and his brow was dark, as though he already regretted speaking of the matter at all.
“Well, not if you don’t want to tell me any more,” she said loftily, though she was burning for further information. “But I just can’t see you in the r?le of a guardian,” and she laughed, hoping to disconcert him.
“No, I don’t suppose you can. Your vision is pretty limited.”
He said no more and smoked his cigar in silence for a while. She cast about for some remark as rude as his but could think of none.
“I would appreciate it if you’d say nothing of this to anyone,” he said finally. “Though I suppose that asking a woman to keep her mouth shut is asking the impossible.”
“I can keep a secret,” she said with injured dignity.
“Can you? It’s nice to learn unsuspected things about friends. Now, stop pouting, Scarlett. I’m sorry I was rude but you deserved it for prying. Give me a smile and let’s be pleasant for a minute or two before I take up an unpleasant subject.”
Oh, dear! she thought. Now, he’s going to talk about Ashley and the mill! and she hastened to smile and show her dimple to divert him. “Where else did you go, Rhett? You haven’t been in New Orleans all this time, have you?”
“No, for the last month I’ve been in Charleston. My father died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m sure he wasn’t sorry to die, and I’m sure I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
“Rhett, what a dreadful thing to say!”
“It would be much more dreadful if I pretended to be sorry, when I wasn’t, wouldn’t it? There was never any love lost between us. I cannot remember when the old gentleman did not disapprove of me. I was too much like his own father and he disapproved heartily of his father. And as I grew older his disapproval of me became downright dislike, which, I admit, I did little to change. All the things Father wanted me to do and be were such boring things. And finally he threw me out into the world without a cent and no training whatsoever to be anything but a Charleston gentleman, a good pistol shot and an excellent poker player. And he seemed to take it as a personal affront that I did not starve but put my poker playing to excellent advantage and supported myself royally by gambling. He was so affronted at a Butler becoming a gambler that when I came home for the first time, he forbade my mother to see me. And all during the war when I was blockading out of Charleston, Mother had to lie and slip off to see me. Naturally that didn’t increase my love for him.”
“Oh, I didn’t know all that!”
“He was what is pointed out as a fine old gentleman of the old school which means that he was ignorant, thick headed, intolerant and incapable of thinking along any lines except what other gentlemen of the old school thought. Everyone admired him tremendously for having cut me off and counted me as dead. ‘If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out.’ I was his right eye, his oldest son, and he plucked me out with a vengeance.”
He smiled a little, his eyes hard with amused memory.
“Well, I could forgive all that but I can’t forgive what he’s done to Mother and my sister since the war ended. They’ve been practically destitute. The plantation house was burned and the rice fields have gone back to marsh lands. And the town house went for taxes and they’ve been living in two rooms that aren’t fit for darkies. I’ve sent money to Mother, but Father has sent it back—tainted money, you see!—and several times I’ve gone to Charleston and given money, on the sly, to my sister. But Father always found out and raised merry hell with her, till her life wasn’t worth living, poor girl. And back the money came to me. I don’t know how they’ve lived. ... Yes, I do know. My brother’s given what he could, though he hasn’t much to give and he won’t take anything from me either—speculator’s money is unlucky money, you see! And the charity of their friends. Your Aunt Eulalie, she’s been very kind. She’s one of Mother’s best friends, you know. She’s given them clothes and— Good God! My mother on charity!”
It was one of the few times she had ever seen him with his mask off, his face hard with honest hatred for his father and distress for his mother.
“Aunt ‘Lalie! But, good Heavens, Rhett, she hasn’t got anything much above what I send her!”
“Ah, so that’s where it comes from! How ill bred of you, my dear, to brag of such a thing in the face of my humiliation. You must let me reimburse you!”
“With pleasure,” said Scarlett, her mouth suddenly twisting into a grin, and he smiled back.
“Ah, Scarlett, how the thought of a dollar does make your eyes sparkle! Are you sure you haven’t some Scotch or perhaps Jewish blood as well as Irish?”
“Don’t be hateful! I didn’t mean to throw it in your face about Aunt ‘Lalie. But honestly, she thinks I’m made of money. She’s always writing me for more and, God knows, I’ve got enough on my hands without supporting all of Charleston. What did your father die of?”
