It wouldn't stop at the bare facts, that Ashley was holding her in his arms while she cried.
Before nightfall people would be saying she had been taken in adultery.
And it had been so innocent, so sweet!
Scarlett thought wildly: If we had been caught that Christmas of his furlough when I kissed him good-by--if we had been caught in the orchard at Tara when I begged him to run away with me--oh, if we'd been caught any of the times when we were really guilty, it wouldn't be so bad!
But now!
Now!
When I went to his arms as a friend--
But no one would believe that.
She wouldn't have a single friend to take her part, not a single voice would be raised to say:
"I don't believe she was doing anything wrong."
She had outraged old friends too long to find a champion among them now.
Her new friends, suffering in silence under her insolences, would welcome a chance to blackguard her.
No, everybody would believe anything about her, though they might regret that so fine a man as Ashley Wilkes was mixed up in so dirty an affair.
As usual they would cast the blame upon the woman and shrug at the man's guilt.
And in this case they would be right.
She had gone into his arms.
Oh, she could stand the cuts, the slights, the covert smiles, anything the town might say, if she had to stand them--but not Melanie!
Oh, not Melanie!
She did not know why she should mind Melanie knowing, more than anyone else.
She was too frightened and weighed down by a sense of past guilt to try to understand it.
But she burst into tears at the thought of what would be in Melanie's eyes when India told her that she had caught Ashley fondling Scarlett.
And what would Melanie do when she knew?
Leave Ashley?
What else could she do, with any dignity?
And what will Ashley and I do then? she thought frenziedly, the tears streaming down her face.
Oh, Ashley will die of shame and hate me for bringing this on him.
Suddenly her tears stopped short as a deadly fear went through her heart.
What of Rhett?
What would he do?
Perhaps he'd never know.
What was that old saying, that cynical saying?
"The husband is always the last to find out."
Perhaps no one would tell him.
It would take a brave man to break such news to Rhett, for Rhett had the reputation for shooting first and asking questions afterwards.
Please, God, don't let anybody be brave enough to tell him!
But she remembered the face of Archie in the lumber office, the cold, pale eye, remorseless, full of hate for her and all women.
Archie feared neither God nor man and he hated loose women.
He had hated them enough to kill one.
And he had said he would tell Rhett.
And he'd tell him in spite of all Ashley could do to dissuade him.
Unless Ashley killed him, Archie would tell Rhett, feeling it his Christian duty.
She pulled off her clothes and lay down on the bed, her mind whirling round and round.
If she could only lock her door and stay in this safe place forever and ever and never see anyone again.
Perhaps Rhett wouldn't find out tonight.
She'd say she had a headache and didn't feel like going to the reception.
By morning she would have thought up some excuse to offer, some defense that might hold water.
"I won't think of it now," she said desperately, burying her face in the pillow.
"I won't think of it now.
I'll think of it later when I can stand it."
She heard the servants come back as night fell and it seemed to her that they were very silent as they moved about preparing supper.