He was gone when she returned and did not appear again until time for supper.
It was a silent meal and Scarlett's temper was straining because it was her last supper in New Orleans and she wanted to do justice to the crawfish.
And she could not enjoy it under his gaze.
Nevertheless she ate a large one, and drank a quantity of champagne.
Perhaps it was this combination that brought back her old nightmare that evening, for she awoke, cold with sweat, sobbing brokenly.
She was back at Tara again and Tara was desolate.
Mother was dead and with her all the strength and wisdom of the world.
Nowhere in the world was there anyone to turn to, anyone to rely upon.
And something terrifying was pursuing her and she was running, running till her heart was bursting, running in a thick swimming fog, crying out, blindly seeking that nameless, unknown haven of safety that was somewhere in the mist about her.
Rhett was leaning over her when she woke, and without a word he picked her up in his arms like a child and held her close, his hard muscles comforting, his wordless murmuring soothing, until her sobbing ceased.
"Oh, Rhett. I was so cold and so hungry and so tired and I couldn't find it.
I ran through the mist and I ran but I couldn't find it."
"Find what, honey?"
"I don't know.
I wish I did know."
"Is it your old dream?"
"Oh, yes!"
He gently placed her on the bed, fumbled in the darkness and lit a candle.
In the light his face with bloodshot eyes and harsh lines was as unreadable as stone.
His shirt, opened to the waist, showed a brown chest covered with thick black hair.
Scarlett, still shaking with fright, thought how strong and unyielding that chest was, and she whispered:
"Hold me, Rhett."
"Darling!" he said swiftly, and picking her up he sat down in a large chair, cradling her body against him.
"Oh, Rhett, it's awful to be hungry."
"It must be awful to dream of starvation after a seven-course dinner including that enormous crawfish."
He smiled but his eyes were kind.
"Oh, Rhett, I just run and run and hunt and I can't ever find what it is I'm hunting for.
It's always hidden in the mist.
I know if I could find it, I'd be safe forever and ever and never be cold or hungry again."
"Is it a person or a thing you're hunting?"
"I don't know.
I never thought about it.
Rhett, do you think I'll ever dream that I get there to safety?"
"No," he said, smoothing her tumbled hair, "I don't.
Dreams aren't like that.
But I do think that if you get used to being safe and warm and well fed in your everyday life, you'll stop dreaming that dream.
And, Scarlett, I'm going to see that you are safe."
"Rhett, you are so nice."
"Thanks for the crumbs from your table, Mrs. Dives.
Scarlett, I want you to say to yourself every morning when you wake up:
'I can't ever be hungry again and nothing can ever touch me so long as Rhett is here and the United States government holds out.'"
"The United States government?" she questioned, sitting up, startled, tears still on her cheeks.
"The ex-Confederate money has now become an honest woman.
I invested most of it in government bonds."
"God's nightgown!" cried Scarlett, sitting up in his lap, forgetful of her recent terror.
"Do you mean to tell me you've loaned your money to the Yankees?"
"At a fair per cent."
"I don't care if it's a hundred percent!
You must sell them immediately.
The idea of letting the Yankees have the use of your money!"