The still house with the sense of death upon it pressed about her loneliness until she felt she could not bear it unaided any longer.She arose cautiously,pushed her door half-closed and then dug about in the bottom bureau drawer beneath her underwear.She produced Aunt Pitty's “swoon bottle”of brandy which she had hidden there and held it up to the lamp.It was nearly half-empty.Surely she hadn't drunk that much since last night!She poured a generous amount into her water glass and gulped it down.She would have to put the bottle back in the cellaret before morning,filled to the top with water.Mammy had hunted for it,just before the funeral when the pallbearers wanted a drink,and already the air in the kitchen was electric with suspicion between Mammy,Cookie and Peter.
The brandy burned with fiery pleasantness.There was nothing like it when you needed it.In fact,brandy was good almost any time,so much better than insipid wine.Why on earth should it be proper for a woman to drink wine and not spirits?Mrs.Merriwether and Mrs.Meade had sniffed her breath most obviously at the funeral and she had seen the triumphant look they had exchanged.The old cats!
She poured another drink.It wouldn't matter if she did get a little tipsy tonight for she was going to bed soon and she could gargle cologne before Mammy came up to unlace her.She wished she could get as completely and thoughtlessly drunk as Gerald used to get on Court Day.Then perhaps she could forget Frank's sunken face accusing her of ruining his life and then killing him.
She wondered if everyone in town thought she had killed him.Certainly the people at the funeral had been cold to her.The only people who had put any warmth into their expressions of sympathy were the wives of the Yankee officers with whom she did business.Well,she didn't care what the town said about her.How unimportant that seemed beside what she would have to answer for to God!
She took another drink at the thought,shuddering as the hot brandy went down her throat.She felt very warm now but still she couldn't get the thought of Frank out of her mind.What fools men were when they said liquor made people forget!Unless she drank herself into insensibility,she'd still see Frank's face as it had looked the last time he begged her not to drive alone,timid,reproachful,apologetic.
The knocker on the front door hammered with a dull sound that made the still house echo and she heard Aunt Pitty's waddling steps crossing the hall and the door opening.There was the sound of greeting and an indistinguishable murmur.Some neighbors calling to discuss the funeral or to bring a blanc mange.Pitty would like that.She had taken an important and melancholy pleasure in talking to the condolence callers.
She wondered incuriously who it was and,when a man's voice,resonant and drawling,rose above Pitty's funereal whispering,she knew.Gladness and relief flooded her.It was Rhett.She had not seen him since he broke the news of Frank's death to her,and now she knew,deep in her heart,that he was the one person who could help her tonight.
“I think she'll see me,”Rhett's voice floated up to her.
“But she is lying down now,Captain Butler,and won't see anyone.Poor child,she is quite prostrated.She—”
“I think she will see me.Please tell her I am going away tomorrow and may be gone some time.It's very important.”
“But—”fluttered Aunt Pittypat.
Scarlett ran out into the hall,observing with some astonishment that her knees were a little unsteady,and leaned over the banisters.
“I'll be down terrectly,Rhett,”she called.
She had a glimpse of Aunt Pittypat's plump upturned face,her eyes owlish with surprise and disapproval.Now it'll be all over town that I conducted myself most improperly on the day of my husband's funeral,thought Scarlett,as she hurried back to her room and began smoothing her hair.She buttoned her black basque up to the chin and pinned down the collar with Pittypat's mourning brooch.I don't look very pretty,she thought,leaning toward the mirror,too white and scared.For a moment her hand went toward the lock box where she kept her rouge hidden but she decided against it.Poor Pittypat would be upset in earnest if she came downstairs pink and blooming.She picked up the cologne bottle and took a large mouthful,carefully rinsed her mouth and then spit into the slop jar.
She rustled down the stairs toward the two who still stood in the hall,for Pittypat had been too upset by Scarlett's action to ask Rhett to sit down.He was decorously clad in black,his linen frilly and starched,and his manner was all that custom demanded from an old friend paying a call of sympathy on one bereaved.In fact,it was so perfect that it verged on the burlesque,though Pittypat did not see it.He was properly apologetic for disturbing Scarlett and regretted that in his rush of closing up business before leaving town he had been unable to be present at the funeral.
“Whatever possessed him to come?”wondered Scarlett.“He doesn't mean a word he's saying.”
“I hate to intrude on you at this time but I have a matter of business to discuss that will not wait.Something that Mr.Kennedy and I were planning—”
“I didn't know you and Mr.Kennedy had business dealings,”said Aunt Pittypat,almost indignant that some of Frank's activities were unknown to her.
“Mr.Kennedy was a man of wide interests,”said Rhett respectfully.“Shall we go into the parlor?”
“No!”cried Scarlett,glancing at the closed folding doors.She could still see the coffin in that room.She hoped she never had to enter it again.Pitty,for once,took a hint,although with none too good grace.
“Do use the library.I must—I must go upstairs and get out the mending.Dear me,I've neglected it so this last week.I declare—”
She went up the stairs with a backward look of reproach which was noticed by neither Scarlett nor Rhett.He stood aside to let her pass before him into the library.
“What business did you and Frank have?”she questioned abruptly.
