There was barely suppressed savagery in his voice.
"Loving you as you say he does, he should have known just what you would do when you were desperate.
He should have killed you rather than let you come up here--and to me, of all people!
God in Heaven!"
"But he didn't know!"
"If he didn't guess it without being told, he'll never know anything about you and your precious mind."
How unfair he was!
As if Ashley was a mind reader!
As if Ashley could have stopped her, even had he known!
But, she knew suddenly, Ashley could have stopped her.
The faintest intimation from him, in the orchard, that some day things might be different and she would never have thought of going to Rhett.
A word of tenderness, even a parting caress when she was getting on the train, would have held her back.
But he had only talked of honor.
Yet--was Rhett right?
Should Ashley have known her mind?
Swiftly she put the disloyal thought from her.
Of course, he didn't suspect.
Ashley would never suspect that she would even think of doing anything so immoral.
Ashley was too fine to have such thoughts.
Rhett was just trying to spoil her love.
He was trying to tear down what was most precious to her.
Some day, she thought viciously, when the store was on its feet and the mill doing nicely and she had money, she would make Rhett Butler pay for the misery and humiliation he was causing her.
He was standing over her, looking down at her, faintly amused.
The emotion which had stirred him was gone.
"What does it all matter to you anyway?" she asked.
"It's my business and Ashley's and not yours."
He shrugged.
"Only this. I have a deep and impersonal admiration for your endurance, Scarlett, and I do not like to see your spirit crushed beneath too many millstones.
There's Tara.
That's a man-sized job in itself.
There's your sick father added on.
He'll never be any help to you.
And the girls and the darkies.
And now you've taken on a husband and probably Miss Pittypat, too.
You've enough burdens without Ashley Wilkes and his family on your hands."
"He's not on my hands.
He helps--"
"Oh, for God's sake," he said impatiently.
"Don't let's have any more of that.
He's no help.
He's on your hands and he'll be on them, or on somebody's, till he dies.
Personally, I'm sick of him as a topic of conversation. . . . How much money do you want?"
Vituperative words rushed to her lips.
After all his insults, after dragging from her those things which were most precious to her and trampling on them, he still thought she would take his money!
But the words were checked unspoken.
How wonderful it would be to scorn his offer and order him out of the store!
But only the truly rich and the truly secure could afford this luxury. So long as she was poor, just so long would she have to endure such scenes as this.
But when she was rich--oh, what a beautiful warming thought that was!--when she was rich, she wouldn't stand anything she didn't like, do without anything she desired or even be polite to people unless they pleased her.
I shall tell them all to go to Halifax, she thought, and Rhett Butler will be the first one!
The pleasure in the thought brought a sparkle into her green eyes and a half-smile to her lips.