Pa is a sweet， selfish， irresponsible darling， Scarlett thought， with a surge of affection for him. She felt so excited and happy this morning that she included the whole world， as well as Gerald， in her affection. She was pretty and she knew it； she would have Ashley for her own before the day was over； the sun was warm and tender and the glory of the Georgia spring was spread before her eyes. Along the roadside the blackberry brambles were concealing with softest green the savage red gulches cut by the winter’s rains， and the bare granite boulders pushing up through the red earth were being draped with sprangles of Cherokee roses and compassed about by wild violets of palest purple hue. Upon the wooded hills above the river， the dogwood blossoms lay glistening and white， as if snow still lingered among the greenery. The flowering crab trees were bursting their buds and rioting from delicate white to deepest pink and， beneath the trees where the sunshine dappled the pine straw， the wild honeysuckle made a varicolored carpet of scarlet and orange and rose. There was a faint wild fragrance of sweet shrub on the breeze and the world smelted good enough to eat.
“I’ll remember how beautiful this day is till I die，” thought Scarlett. “Perhaps it will be my wedding day！”
And she thought with a tingling in her heart how she and Ashley might ride swiftly through this beauty of blossom and greenery this very afternoon， or tonight by moonlight， toward Jonesboro and a preacher. Of course， she would have to be remarried by a priest from Atlanta， but that would be something for Ellen and Gerald to worry about. She quailed a little as she thought how white with mortification Ellen would be at hearing that her daughter had eloped with another girl’s fiancé， but she knew Ellen would forgive her when she saw her happiness. And Gerald would scold and bawl but， for all his remarks of yesterday about not wanting her to marry Ashley， he would be pleased beyond words at an alliance between his family and the Wilkes.
“But that’ll be something to worry about after I’m married，” she thought， tossing the worry from her.
It was impossible to feel anything but palpitating joy in this warm sun， in this spring， with the chimneys of Twelve Oaks just beginning to show on the hill across the river.
“I’ll live there all my life and I’ll see fifty springs like this and maybe more， and I’ll tell my children and my grandchildren how beautiful this spring was， lovelier than any they’ll ever see.” She was so happy at this thought that she joined in the last chorus of “The Wearin’ o’ the Green” and won Gerald’s shouted approval.
“I don’t know why you’re so happy this morning，” said Suellen crossly， for the thought still rankled in her mind that she would look far better in Scarlett’s green silk dancing frock than its rightful owner would. And why was Scarlett always so selfish about lending her clothes and bonnets？ And why did Mother always back her up， declaring green was not Suellen’s color？ “You know as well as I do that Ashley’s engagement is going to be announced tonight. Pa said so this morning. And I know you’ve been sweet on him for months.”
“That’s all you know，” said Scarlett， putting out her tongue and refusing to lose her good humor. How surprised Miss Sue would be by this time tomorrow morning！
“Susie， you know that’s not so，” protested Carreen， shocked. “It’s Brent that Scarlett cares about.”
Scarlett turned smiling green eyes upon her younger sister， wondering how anyone could be so sweet. The whole family knew that Carreen’s thirteen-year-old heart was set upon Brent Tarleton， who never gave her a thought except as Scarlett’s baby sister. When Ellen was not present， the O’Haras teased her to tears about him.
“Darling， I don’t care a thing about Brent，” declared Scarlett， happy enough to be generous. “And he doesn’t care a thing about me. Why， he’s waiting for you to grow up！”
Carreen’s round little face became pink， as pleasure struggled with incredulity.
“Oh， Scarlett， really？”
“Scarlett， you know Mother said Carreen was too young to think about beaux yet， and there you go putting ideas in her head.”
“Well， go and tattle and see if I care，” replied Scarlett. “You want to hold Sissy back， because you know she’s going to be prettier than you in a year or so.”
“You’ll be keeping civil tongues in your heads this day， or I’ll be taking me crop to you，” warned Gerald. “Now whist！ Is it wheels I’m hearing？ That’ll be the Tarletons or the Fontaines.”
As they neared the intersecting road that came down the thickly wooded hill from Mimosa and Fairhill， the sound of hooves and carriage wheels became plainer and clamorous feminine voices raised in pleasant dispute sounded from behind the screen of trees. Gerald， riding ahead， pulled up his hone and signed to Toby to stop the carriage where the two roads met.
“ ‘Tis the Tarleton ladies，” he announced to his daughters， his florid face abeam， for excepting Ellen there was no lady in the County he liked more than the red-haired Mrs. Tarleton. “And ‘tis herself at the reins. Ah， there’s a woman with fine hands for a horse！ Feather light and strong as rawhide， and pretty enough to kiss for all that. More’s the pity none of you have such hands，” he added， casting fond but reproving glances at his girls. “With Carreen afraid of the poor beasts and Sue with hands tike sadirons when it comes to reins and you， Puss—”
“Well， at any rate I’ve never been thrown，” cried Scarlett indignantly. “And Mrs. Tarleton takes a toss at every hunt.”
“And breaks a collar bone like a man，” said Gerald. “No fainting， no fussing. Now， no more of it， for here she comes.”
