“And if he wasn’t dead, you’d still be mean. As I understand it, you are not really sorry for marrying Frank and bullying him and inadvertently causing his death. You are only sorry because you are afraid of going to hell. Is that right?”
“Well – that sounds so mixed up.”
“Your ethics are considerably mixed up too. You are in the exact position of a thief who’s been caught red handed and isn’t sorry he stole but is terribly, terribly sorry he’s going to jail.”
“A thief – ”
“Oh, don’t be so literal! In other words if you didn’t have this silly idea that you were damned to hell fire eternal, you’d think you were well rid of Frank.”
“Oh, Rhett!”
“Oh, come! You are confessing and you might as well confess the truth as a decorous lie. Did your – er – conscience bother you much when you offered to – shall we say – part with that jewel which is dearer than life for three hundred dollars?”
The brandy was spinning in her head now and she felt giddy and a little reckless. What was the use in lying to him? He always seemed to read her mind.
“I really didn’t think about God much then – or hell. And when I did think – well, I just reckoned God would understand.”
“But you don’t credit God with understanding why you married Frank?”
“Rhett, how can you talk so about God when you know you don’t believe there is one?”
“But you believe in a God of Wrath and that’s what’s important at present. Why shouldn’t the Lord understand? Are you sorry you still own Tara and there aren’t Carpetbaggers living there? Are you sorry you aren’t hungry and ragged?”
“Oh, no!”
“Well, did you have any alternative except marrying Frank?”
“No.”
“He didn’t have to marry you, did he? Men are free agents. And he didn’t have to let you bully him into doing things he didn’t want to, did he?”
“Well – ”
“Scarlett, why worry about it? If you had it to do over again you would be driven to the lie and he to marrying you. You would still have run yourself into danger and he would have had to avenge you. If he had married Sister Sue, she might not have caused his death but she’d probably have made him twice as unhappy as you did. It couldn’t have happened differently.”
“But I could have been nicer to him.”
“You could have been – if you’d been somebody else. But you were born to bully anyone who’ll let you do it. The strong were made to bully and the weak to knuckle under. It’s all Frank’s fault for not beating you with a buggy whip. . . . I’m surprised at you, Scarlett, for sprouting a conscience this late in life. Opportunists like you shouldn’t have them.”
“What is an oppor – what did you call it?”
“A person who takes advantage of opportunities.”
“Is that wrong?”
“It has always been held in disrepute – especially by those who had the same opportunities and didn’t take them.”
“Oh, Rhett, you are joking and I thought you were going to be nice!”
“I am being nice – for me. Scarlett, darling, you are tipsy. That’s what’s the matter with you.”
“You dare – ”
“Yes, I dare. You are on the verge of what is vulgarly called a ‘crying jag’ and so I shall change the subject and cheer you up by telling you some news that will amuse you. In fact, that’s why I came here this evening, to tell you my news before I went away.”
“Where are you going?”
“To England and I may be gone for months. Forget your conscience, Scarlett. I have no intention of discussing your soul’s welfare any further. Don’t you want to hear my news?”
“But – ” she began feebly and paused. Between the brandy which was smoothing out the harsh contours of remorse and Rhett’s mocking but comforting words, the pale specter of Frank was receding into shadows. Perhaps Rhett was right. Perhaps God did understand. She recovered enough to push the idea from the top of her mind and decide: “I’ll think about it all tomorrow.”
“What’s your news?” she said with an effort, blowing her nose on his handkerchief and pushing back the hair that had begun to straggle.
“My news is this,” he answered, grinning down at her. “I still want you more than any woman I’ve ever seen and now that Frank’s gone, I thought you’d be interested to know it.”
Scarlett jerked her hands away from his grasp and sprang to her feet.
“I – you are the most ill-bred man in the world, coming here at this time of all times with your filthy – I should have known you’d never change. And Frank hardly cold! If you had any decency – Will you leave this – ”
“Do be quiet or you’ll have Miss Pittypat down here in a minute,” he said, not rising but reaching up and taking both her fists. “I’m afraid you miss my point.”
“Miss your point? I don’t miss anything.” She pulled against his grip. “Turn me loose and get out of here. I never heard of such bad taste. I – ”
“Hush,” he said. “I am asking you to marry me. Would you be convinced if I knelt down?”
She said “Oh” breathlessly and sat down hard on the sofa.
She stared at him, her mouth open, wondering if the brandy were playing tricks on her mind, remembering senselessly his jibing: “My dear, I’m not a marrying man.” She was drunk or he was crazy. But he did not look crazy. He looked as calm as though he were discussing the weather, and his smooth drawl fell on her ears with no particular emphasis.
“I always intended having you, Scarlett, since that first day I saw you at Twelve Oaks when you threw that vase and swore and proved that you weren’t a lady. I always intended having you, one way or another. But as you and Frank have made a little money, I know you’ll never be driven to me again with any interesting propositions of loans and collaterals. So I see I’ll have to marry you.”
“Rhett Butler, is this one of your vile jokes?”
“I bare my soul and you are suspicious! No, Scarlett, this is a bona fide honorable declaration. I admit that it’s not in the best of taste, coming at this time, but I have a very good excuse for my lack of breeding. I’m going away tomorrow for a long time and I fear that if I wait till I return you’ll have married some one else with a little money. So I thought, why not me and my money? Really, Scarlett, I can’t go all my life, waiting to catch you between husbands.”
He meant it. There was no doubt about it. Her mouth was dry as she assimilated this knowledge and she swallowed and looked into his eyes, trying to find some clue. They were full of laughter but there was something else, deep in them, which she had never seen before, a gleam that defied analysis. He sat easily, carelessly but she felt that he was watching her as alertly as a cat watches a mouse hole. There was a sense of leashed power straining beneath his calm that made her draw back, a little frightened.