What Does Ponyboy Realize About Johnny After They Read Gone With the Win
GONE
WITH THE
Wind
MARGARET MITCHELL
TO
J.R.Yard.
Tabular array OF CONTENTS
Part One
Chapter I
CHAPTER II
Affiliate 3
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER Five
Affiliate Half-dozen
Affiliate VII
Part Two
Affiliate 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
Chapter Xi
CHAPTER XII
Chapter XIII
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER Sixteen
Part 3
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER Xviii
Affiliate 19
CHAPTER Twenty
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Affiliate XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
Affiliate XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
Chapter XXX
Part Four
Chapter XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
Affiliate XXXV
Affiliate XXXVI
CHAPTER XXXVII
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Affiliate XXXIX
Chapter 40
CHAPTER XLI
Affiliate XLII
Affiliate XLIII
CHAPTER XLIV
Chapter XLV
Affiliate XLVI
Affiliate XLVII
Function Five
CHAPTER XLVIII
Chapter XLIX
CHAPTER L
CHAPTER LI
CHAPTER LII
Affiliate LIII
CHAPTER LIV
Chapter LV
CHAPTER LVI
Chapter LVII
CHAPTER LVIII
Affiliate LIX
CHAPTER LX
CHAPTER LXI
Chapter LXII
CHAPTER LXIII
Part I
Chapter I
SCARLETT O'HARA was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her amuse every bit the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply composite the fragile features of her female parent, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of mentum, foursquare of jaw. Her eyes were pale green without a touch of hazel, starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends. Above them, her thick black brows slanted upward, cutting a startling oblique line in her magnolia-white skin--that pare so prized by Southern women and and then advisedly guarded with bonnets, veils and mittens against hot Georgia suns.
Seated with Stuart and Brent Tarleton in the cool shade of the porch of Tara, her father'south plantation, that brilliant Apr afternoon of 1861, she fabricated a pretty movie. Her new light-green flowered-muslin clothes spread its twelve yards of billowing material over her hoops and exactly matched the flat-heeled green morocco slippers her male parent had recently brought her from Atlanta. The dress set up off to perfection the seventeen-inch waist, the smallest in three counties, and the tightly fitting basque showed breasts well matured for her sixteen years. Only for all the modesty of her spreading skirts, the demureness of pilus netted smoothly into a chignon and the quietness of small white hands folded in her lap, her true self was poorly curtained. The green optics in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, brawny with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her past her mother's gentle admonitions and the sterner discipline of her mammy; her eyes were her ain.
On either side of her, the twins lounged easily in their chairs, squinting at the sunlight through tall mint-garnished glasses as they laughed and talked, their long legs, booted to the knee joint and thick with saddle muscles, crossed negligently. Xix years old, six feet two inches alpine, long of bone and difficult of muscle, with sunburned faces and deep auburn hair, their optics merry and arrogant, their bodies clothed in identical blueish coats and mustard-colored breeches, they were as much alike equally two bolls of cotton.
Outside, the late afternoon sun slanted down in the g, throwing into gleaming effulgence the dogwood trees that were solid masses of white blossoms against the background of new greenish. The twins' horses were hitched in the driveway, large animals, cerise as their masters' hair; and around the horses' legs quarreled the pack of lean, nervous possum hounds that accompanied Stuart and Brent wherever they went. A little aloof, as became an aristocrat, lay a blackness-spotted wagon dog, muzzle on paws, patiently waiting for the boys to go dwelling house to supper.
Betwixt the hounds and the horses and the twins there was a kinship deeper than that of their constant companionship. They were all salubrious, thoughtless immature animals, sleek, graceful, high-spirited, the boys as mettlesome as the horses they rode, mettlesome and dangerous but, withal, sugariness-tempered to those who knew how to handle them.
Although built-in to the ease of plantation life, waited on mitt and pes since infancy, the faces of the three on the porch were neither slack nor soft. They had the vigor and alertness of land people who have spent all their lives in the open up and troubled their heads very little with dull things in books. Life in the north Georgia canton of Clayton was yet new and, according to the standards of Augusta, Savannah and Charleston, a little rough. The more sedate and older sections of the South looked down their noses at the up-state Georgians, but here in north Georgia, a lack of the niceties of classical didactics carried no shame, provided a man was smart in the things that mattered. And raising good cotton wool, riding well, shooting straight, dancing lightly, squiring the ladies with elegance and carrying one's liquor like a gentleman were the things that mattered.
In these accomplishments the twins excelled, and they were as outstanding in their notorious inability to learn anything contained between the covers of books. Their family unit had more coin, more horses, more slaves than whatsoever i else in the Canton, merely the boys had less grammer than most of their poor Cracker neighbors.
It was for this precise reason that Stuart and Brent were idling on the porch of Tara this Apr afternoon. They had just been expelled from the Academy of Georgia, the 4th university that had thrown them out in two years; and their older brothers, Tom and Boyd, had come domicile with them, because they refused to remain at an institution where the twins were not welcome. Stuart and Brent considered their latest expulsion a fine joke, and Scarlett, who had not willingly opened a book since leaving the Fayetteville Female person Academy the year before, thought it only every bit amusing as they did.
"I know you two don't intendance near being expelled, or Tom either," she said. "Simply what near Boyd? He's kind of fix on getting an education, and you two have pulled him out of the University of Virginia and Alabama and South Carolina and at present Georgia. He'll never get finished at this rate."
"Oh, he tin read law in Estimate Parmalee'south role over in Fayetteville," answered Brent carelessly. "Besides, information technology don't thing much. We'd have had to come domicile before the term was out anyway."
"Why?"
"The war, goose! The war'due south going to kickoff any day, and you don't suppose any of us would stay in college with a war going on, do yous?"
"You know at that place isn't going to be any war," said Scarlett, bored. "It's all simply talk. Why, Ashley Wilkes and his father told Pa just last week that our commissioners in Washington would come to -- to -- an -- amicable agreement with Mr. Lincoln nearly the Confederacy. And anyway, the Yankees are also scared of us to fight. There won't be any war, and I'g tired of hearing about it."
"Not going to be any war!" cried the twins indignantly, as though they had been defrauded.
"Why, honey, of course there'south going to be a
war," said Stuart. The Yankees may exist scared of us, merely afterwards the mode General Beauregard shelled them out of Fort Sumter day before yesterday, they'll have to fight or stand branded equally cowards earlier the whole world. Why, the Confederacy --"
Scarlett made a oral fissure of bored impatience.
If y'all say 'war' merely once more, I'll go in the house and close the door. I've never gotten then tired of whatsoever one word in my life as 'war,' unless it's 'secession.' Pa talks war morning, noon and night, and all the gentlemen who come to see him shout about Fort Sumter and States' Rights and Abe Lincoln till I get so bored I could scream! And that'due south all the boys talk most, too, that and their erstwhile Troop. There hasn't been whatever fun at any political party this spring because the boys can't talk about annihilation else. I'm mighty glad Georgia waited till later Christmas before it seceded or it would take ruined the Christmas parties, too. If you say 'war' again, I'll go in the firm."
She meant what she said, for she could never long endure any conversation of which she was not the chief subject. But she smiled when she spoke, consciously deepening her dimple and fluttering her bristly black lashes as swiftly every bit butterflies' wings. The boys were enchanted, as she had intended them to be, and they hastened to repent for irksome her. They thought none the less of her for her lack of interest. Indeed, they idea more. War was men's concern, not ladies', and they took her attitude as evidence of her femininity.
Having maneuvered them away from the dull subject of war, she went back with interest to their immediate situation.
"What did your mother say about yous 2 existence expelled again?"
The boys looked uncomfortable, recalling their mother's conduct three months ago when they had come home, past request, from the University of Virginia.
"Well," said Stuart, "she hasn't had a chance to say anything yet. Tom and us left home early this morning before she got upwards, and Tom'due south laying out over at the Fontaines' while we came over here."
"Didn't she say anything when you got home final night?"
"We were in luck last dark. But before we got dwelling house that new stallion Ma got in Kentucky last month was brought in, and the place was in a stew. The big brute -- he's a 1000 horse, Scarlett; yous must tell your pa to come up over and meet him right away -- he'd already bitten a hunk out of his groom on the way downwardly hither and he'd trampled ii of Ma's darkies who met the railroad train at Jonesboro. And just before we got home, he'd well-nigh kicked the stable downwardly and half-killed Strawberry, Ma's old stallion. When we got home, Ma was out in the stable with a sackful of sugar smoothing him down and doing it mighty well, too. The darkies were hanging from the rafters, popeyed, they were and so scared, but Ma was talking to the horse like he was folks and he was eating out of her hand. In that location ain't nobody like Ma with a horse. And when she saw us she said: 'In Sky'south name, what are yous four doing home again? Y'all're worse than the plagues of Egypt!' And then the horse began snorting and rearing and she said: 'Get out of here! Tin't you see he'due south nervous, the big darling? I'll tend to yous four in the forenoon!' So we went to bed, and this morning we got away before she could catch united states. and left Boyd to handle her."
"Practice yous suppose she'll hit Boyd?" Scarlett, like the rest of the County, could never get used to the mode small Mrs. Tarleton bullied her grown sons and laid her riding crop on their backs if the occasion seemed to warrant it.
Beatrice Tarleton was a busy adult female, having on her hands non but a large cotton wool plantation, a hundred negroes and eight children, but the largest equus caballus-breeding subcontract in the state likewise. She was hot-tempered and easily plagued by the frequent scrapes of her iv sons, and while no one was permitted to whip a horse or a slave, she felt that a lick now and then didn't do the boys whatever damage.
"Of course she won't hitting Boyd. She never did trounce Boyd much because he's the oldest and besides he's the runt of the litter," said Stuart, proud of his six feet two. "That'southward why nosotros left him at home to explain things to her. God'lmighty, Ma ought to stop licking us! We're nineteen and Tom's twenty-one, and she acts like nosotros're six years old."
"Will your mother ride the new horse to the Wilkes charcoal-broil tomorrow?"
"She wants to, simply Pa says he's too dangerous. And, anyway, the girls won't let her. They said they were going to accept her become to one party at least like a lady, riding in the wagon."
"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow," said Scarlett. "Information technology's rained nearly every day for a week. At that place's aught worse than a charcoal-broil turned into an indoor picnic."
"Oh, it'll be clear tomorrow and hot as June," said Stuart. "Look at Oat sunset I never saw i redder. You tin can always tell conditions past sunsets."
They looked out across the endless acres of Gerald O'Hara'due south newly plowed cotton fiber fields toward the scarlet horizon. Now that the sun was setting in a welter of crimson behind tin lulls across the Flintstone River, the warmth of the April day was ebbing into a faint merely mild arctic.
Spring had come early that year, with warm quick rains and sudden frothing of pinkish peach blossoms and dogwood dappling with white stars the dark river swamp and far-off hills. Already the plowing was nearly finished, and the bloody glory of the sunset colored the fresh-cut furrows of ruddy Georgia dirt to fifty-fifty redder hues. The moist hungry earth, waiting upturned for the cotton seeds, showed pinkish on the sandy tops of furrows, vermilion and scarlet and maroon where shadows lay along the sides of the trenches. The whitewashed brick plantation house seemed an isle set in a wild crimson sea, a ocean of spiraling, curving, crescent billows petrified all of a sudden at the moment when the pink-tipped waves were breaking into surf. For here were no long, straight furrows, such as could be seen in the yellow clay fields of the flat middle Georgia land or in the lush blackness earth of the coastal plantations. The rolling foothill land of north Georgia was plowed in a million curves to go on the rich earth from washing down into the river bottoms.
Information technology was a savagely red country, blood-colored later rains, brick dust in droughts, the best cotton fiber country in the world. It was a pleasant country of white houses, peaceful plowed fields and sluggish yellow rivers, only a land of contrasts, of brightest sun glare and densest shade. The plantation clearings and miles of cotton fields smiled up to a warm sunday, placid, complacent. At their edges rose the virgin forests, night and cool fifty-fifty in the hottest noons, mysterious, a little sinister, the soughing pines seeming to expect with an age-old patience, to threaten with soft sighs: "Exist careful! Exist careful! We had yous one time. We can accept you back once more."
To the ears of the three on the porch came the sounds of hooves, the jingling of harness bondage and the shrill careless laughter of negro voices, equally the field hands and mules came in from the fields. From within the house floated the soft vocalism of Scarlett's mother, Ellen O'Hara, as she called to the little black girl who carried her handbasket of keys. The loftier-pitched, childish voice answered "Yas'1000," and there were sounds of footsteps going out the back way toward the smokehouse where Ellen would ration out the food to the homecoming hands. There was the click of cathay and the rattle of argent as Pork, the valet-butler of Tara, laid the tabular array for supper.
At these last sounds, the twins realized it was time they were starting domicile. But they were loath to face their mother and they lingered on the porch of Tara, momentarily expecting Scarlett to give them an invitation to supper.
"Look, Scarlett. About tomorrow," said Brent. "Just because we've been abroad and didn't know about the barbecue and the ball, that's no reason why nosotros shouldn't get plenty of dances tomorrow night. You haven't promised them all, have you?"
"Well, I have! How did I know you all would exist home? I couldn't chance being a wallflower just waiting on you two."
"You lot a wallflower!" The boys laughed uproariously.
"Look, honey. You've got to give me the commencement waltz and Stu the last one and you've got to eat supper with us. We'll sit on the stair landing like nosotros did at the last brawl and become Mammy Jincy to come tell our fortunes again."
"I don't like Mammy Jincy's fortunes. You know she said I was going to marry a gentleman with jet-blackness hair and a long black mustache, and I don't like black-haired gentlemen."
"Y'all like 'em red-
headed, don't you, honey?" grinned Brent "At present, come on, promise u.s. all the waltzes and the supper."
"If yous'll promise, we'll tell you a clandestine," said Stuart.
"What?" cried Scarlett, alert as a child at the word.
"Is it what nosotros heard yesterday in Atlanta, Stu? If it is, you know we promised not to tell."
"Well, Miss Pitty told us."
"Miss Who?"
"You lot know, Ashley Wilkes' cousin who lives in Atlanta, Miss Pittypat Hamilton -- Charles and Melanie Hamilton's aunt."
"I do, and a sillier sometime lady I never met in all my life."
"Well, when we were in Atlanta yesterday, waiting for the home railroad train, her carriage went by the depot and she stopped and talked to united states, and she told united states there was going to be an engagement appear tomorrow night at the Wilkes brawl."
"Oh, I know well-nigh that," said Scarlett in disappointment. "That airheaded nephew of hers, Charlie Hamilton, and Honey Wilkes. Everybody's known for years that they'd become married some time, even if he did seem kind of lukewarm nigh it."
"Exercise yous think he'southward silly?" questioned Brent. "Last Christmas yous sure permit him buzz round you enough."
"I couldn't assistance him buzzing," Scarlett shrugged negligently. "I think he's an atrocious sissy."
"Likewise, it isn't his date that's going to be announced," said Stuart triumphantly. "Information technology'south Ashley's to Charlie's sister, Miss Melanie!"
Scarlett's face did not change but her lips went white -- like a person who has received a stunning blow without warning and who, in the starting time moments of shock, does not realize what has happened. So still was her confront as she stared at Stuart that he, never analytic, took it for granted that she was merely surprised and very interested.
"Miss Pitty told us they hadn't intended announcing it till next twelvemonth, because Miss Melly hasn't been very well; merely with all the war talk going around, everybody in both families idea it would exist better to get married soon. So it's to exist announced tomorrow night at the supper intermission. At present, Scarlett, we've told y'all the secret, and then y'all've got to hope to consume supper with usa."
"Of course I will," Scarlett said automatically.
"And all the waltzes?"
"All."
"Y'all're sweetness! I'll bet the other boys will exist hopping mad."
"Allow 'em exist mad," said Brent. "We two can handle 'em. Look, Scarlett. Sit with us at the charcoal-broil in the morning."
"What?"
Stuart repeated his request.
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