But the child only clung the closer.
As she reached the landing, the whole lower floor leaped up at her. All the ielts ukvi homely, well-lovedarticles of furniture seemed to whisper: “Good-by! Good-by!” A sob rose in her throat. There wasthe open door of the office where Ellen had labored so diligently and she could glimpse a corner ofthe old secretary. There was the dining room, with chairs pushed awry and food still on the plates.
There on the floor were the rag rugs Ellen had dyed and woven herself. And there was the oldportrait of Grandma Robillard, with bosoms half bared, hair piled high and nostrils cut so deeply asto give her face a perpetual well-bred sneer. Everything which had been part of her earliestmemories, everything bound up with the deepest roots in her: “Good-by! Good-by, ScarlettO’Hara!”
The Yankees would burn it all—all!
This was her last view of home, her last view except what she might see from the cover of thewoods or the swamp, the tall chimneys wrapped in smoke, the roof crashing in flame.
“I can’t leave you,” she with fear. “I can’t leave you. Pawouldn’t leave you. He told them they’d have to burn you over his head. Then, they’ll burn youover my head for I can’t leave you either Skin Central. You’re all I’ve got left.”
With the decision, some of her fear fell away and there remained only a congealed feeling in herbreast, as if all hope and fear had frozen. As she stood there, she heard from the avenue the soundof many horses’ feet, the jingle of bridle bits and sabers rattling in scabbards and a harsh voicecrying a command: “Dismount!” Swiftly she bent to the child beside her and her voice was urgentbut oddly gentle.
“Turn me loose, Wade, honey! You run down the stairs quick and through the back yard towardthe swamp. Mammy will be there and Aunt Melly. Run quickly, darling, and don’t be afraid.”
At the change in her tone, the boy looked up and Scarlett was appalled at the look in his eyes,like a baby rabbit in a trap.
“Oh, Mother of God!” she prayed. “Don’t let him have a convulsion! Not—not before theYankees. They mustn’t know we are afraid.” And, as the child only gripped her skirt the tighter,she said clearly: “Be a little man, Wade. They’re only a passel of damn Yankees!”
And she went Neo skin lab down the steps to meet them.
Sherman was marching through Georgia, from Atlanta to the sea.
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