But now,Scarlett pushed that admonition into the back of her mind.That she was encouraging theft,and perhaps theft from people worse off than she,was no longer a matter for conscience.In fact the morals of the affair weighed lightly upon her.Instead of punishment or reproof,she only regretted he had been shot.
“You must be more careful,Pork.We don't want to lose you.What would we do without you?You've been mighty good and faithful and when we get some money again,I'm going to buy you a big gold watch and engrave on it something out of the Bible,‘Well done,good and faithful servant.'”
Pork beamed under the praise and gingerly rubbed his bandaged leg.
“Dat soun'mighty fine,Miss Scarlett.W'en you speckin'ter git dat money?”
“I don't know,Pork,but I'm going to get it some time,somehow.”She bent on him an unseeing glance that was so passionately bitter he stirred uneasily.“Some day,when this war is over,I'm going to have lots of money,and when I do I'll never be hungry or cold again.None of us will ever be hungry or cold.We'll all wear fine clothes and have fried chicken every day and—”
Then she stopped.The strictest rule at Tara,one which she herself had made and which she rigidly enforced,was that no one should ever talk of the fine meals they had eaten in the past or what they would eat now,if they had the opportunity.
Pork slipped from the room as she remained staring moodily into the distance.In the old days,now dead and gone,life had been so complex,so full of intricate and complicated problems.There had been the problem of trying to win Ashley's love and trying to keep a dozen other beaux dangling and unhappy.There had been small breaches of conduct to be concealed from her elders,jealous girls to be flouted or placated,styles of dresses and materials to be chosen,different coiffures to be tried and,oh,so many,many other matters to be decided!Now life was so amazingly simple.Now all that mattered was food enough to keep off starvation,clothing enough to prevent freezing and a roof overhead which did not leak too much.
It was during these days that Scarlett dreamed and dreamed again the nightmare which was to haunt her for years.It was always the same dream,the details never varied,but the terror of it mounted each time it came to her and the fear of experiencing it again troubled even her waking hours.She remembered so well the incidents of the day when she had first dreamed it.
Cold rain had fallen for days and the house was chill with drafts and dampness.The logs in the fireplace were wet and smoky and gave little heat.There had been nothing to eat except milk since breakfast,for the yams were exhausted and Pork's snares and fishlines had yielded nothing.One of the shoats would have to be killed the next day if they were to eat at all.Strained and hungry faces,black and white,were staring at her,mutely asking her to provide food.She would have to risk losing the horse and send Pork out to buy something.And to make matters worse,Wade was ill with a sore throat and a raging fever and there was neither doctor nor medicine for him.
Hungry,weary with watching her child,Scarlett left him to Melanie's care for a while and lay down on her bed to nap.Her feet icy,she twisted and turned,unable to sleep,weighed down with fear and despair.Again and again,she thought:“What shall I do?Where shall I turn?Isn't there anybody in the world who can help me?”Where had all the security of the world gone?Why wasn't there someone,some strong wise person to take the burdens from her?She wasn't made to carry them.She did not know how to carry them.And then she fell into an uneasy doze.
She was in a wild strange country so thick with swirling mist she could not see her hand before her face.The earth beneath her feet was uneasy.It was a haunted land,still with a terrible stillness,and she was lost in it,lost and terrified as a child in the night.She was bitterly cold and hungry and so fearful of what lurked in the mists about her that she tried to scream and could not.There were things in the fog reaching out fingers to pluck at her skirt,to drag her down into the uneasy quaking earth on which she stood,silent,relentless,spectral hands.Then,she knew that somewhere in the opaque gloom about her there was shelter,help,a haven of refuge and warmth.But where was it?Could she reach it before the hands clutched her and dragged her down into the quicksands?
Suddenly she was running,running through the mist like a mad thing,crying and screaming,throwing out her arms to clutch only empty air and wet mist.Where was the haven?It eluded her but it was there,hidden,somewhere.If she could only reach it!If she could only reach it she would be safe!But terror was weakening her legs,hunger making her faint.She gave one despairing cry and awoke to find Melanie's worried face above her and Melanie's hand shaking her to wakefulness.
The dream returned again and again,whenever she went to sleep with an empty stomach.And that was frequently enough.It so frightened her that she feared to sleep,although she feverishly told herself there was nothing in such a dream to be afraid of.There was nothing in a dream about fog to scare her so.Nothing at all—yet the thought of dropping off into that mist-filled country so terrified her she began sleeping with Melanie,who would wake her up when her moaning and twitching revealed that she was again in the clutch of the dream.
Under the strain she grew white and thin.The pretty roundness left her face,throwing her cheek bones into prominence,emphasizing her slanting green eyes and giving her the look of a prowling,hungry cat.
“Daytime is enough like a nightmare without my dreaming things,”she thought desperately and began hoarding her daily ration to eat it just before she went to sleep.