And, as she thought of Gerald, the memory for which she had been rumbling came to her swiftly, came with the heart stopping clarity of summer lightning, throwing, for an instant, a whole countryside into unnatural brightness. She could hear an Irish voice singing, hear the hard rapid pounding of hooves coming up the pasture hill at Tara, hear a reckless voice, so like the voice of her child: “Ellen! Watch me take this one!”
“No!” she cried. “No! Oh, Bonnie, stop!”
Even as she leaned from the window there was a fearful sound of splintering wood, a hoarse cry from Rhett, a melee of blue velvet and flying hooves on the ground. Then Mr. Butler scrambled to his feet and trotted off with an empty saddle.
On the third night after Bonnie’s death, Mammy waddled slowly up the kitchen steps of Melanie’s house. She was dressed in black from her huge men’s shoes, slashed to permit freedom for her toes, to her black head rag. Her blurred old eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, and misery cried out in every line of her mountainous figure. Her face was puckered in the sad bewilderment of an old ape but there was determination in her jaw.
She spoke a few soft words to Dilcey who nodded kindly, as though an unspoken armistice existed in their old feud. Dilcey put down the supper dishes she was holding and went quietly through the pantry toward the dining room. In a minute Melanie was in the kitchen, her table napkin in her hand, anxiety in her face.
“Miss Scarlet isn’t—”
“Miss Scarlett bearin’ up, same as allus,” said Mammy heavily. “Ah din’ ten ter ‘sturb yo’ supper, Miss Melly. Ah kin wait tell you thoo ter tell you whut Ah got on mah mine.”
“Supper can wait,” said Melanie. “Dilcey, serve the rest of the supper. Mammy, come with me.”
Mammy waddled after her, down the hall past the dining room where Ashley sat at the head of the table, his own little Beau beside him and Scarlett’s two children opposite, pairing a great clatter with their soup spoons. The happy voices of Wade and Ella filled the room. It was like a picnic for them to spend so long a visit with Aunt Melly. Aunt Melly was always so kind and she was especially so now. The death of their younger sister had affected them very little. Bonnie had fallen off her pony and Mother had cried a long time and Aunt Melly had taken them home with her to play in the back yard with Beau and have tea cakes whenever they wanted them.
Melanie led the way to the small book-lined sitting room, shut the door and motioned Mammy to the sofa.
“I was going over right after supper,” she said. “Now that Captain Butler’s mother has come, I suppose the funeral will be tomorrow morning.”
“De fune’l. Dat’s jes’ it,” said Mammy. “Miss Melly, we’s all in deep trouble an’ Ah’s come ter you fer he’p. Ain’ nuthin’ but weery load, honey, nuthin’ but weery load.”
“Has Miss Scarlett collapsed?” questioned Melanie worriedly. “I’ve hardly seen her since Bonnie— She has been in her room and Captain Butler has been out of the house and—”
Suddenly tears began to flow down Mammy’s black face. Melanie sat down beside her and patted her arm and, after a moment, Mammy lifted the hem of her black skirt and dried her eyes.
“You got ter come he’p us, Miss Melly. Ah done de bes’ Ah kin but it doan do no good.”
“Miss Scarlett—”
Mammy straightened.
“Miss Melly, you knows Miss Scarlett well’s Ah does. Whut dat chile got ter stan’, de good Lawd give her strent ter stan’. Disyere done broke her heart but she kin stan’ it. It’s Mist’ Rhett Ah come ‘bout.”
“I have so wanted to see him but whenever I’ve been there, he has either been downtown or locked in his room with— And Scarlett has looked like a ghost and wouldn’t speak— Tell me quickly, Mammy. You know I’ll help if I can.”
Mammy wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Ah say Miss Scarlett kin stan’ whut de Lawd sen’, kase she done had ter stan’ a-plen’y, but Mist’ Rhett— Miss Melly, he ain’ never had ter stan’ nuthin’ he din’ wanter stan’, not nuthin’. It’s him Ah come ter see you ‘bout.”
“But—”
“Miss Melly, you got ter come home wid me, dis evenin’.” There was urgency in Mammy’s voice. “Maybe Mist’ Rhett lissen ter you. He allus did think a heap of yo’ ‘pinion.”
“Oh, Mammy, what is it? What do you mean?”
Mammy squared her shoulders.
“Miss Melly, Mist’ Rhett done—done los’ his mine. He woan let us put Lil Miss away.”
“Lost his mind? Oh, Mammy, no!”
“Ah ain’ lyin’. It’s de Gawd’s truff. He ain’ gwine let us buhy dat chile. He done tole me so hisseff, not mo’n an hour ago.”
“But he can’t—he isn’t—”
“Dat’s huccome Ah say he los’ his mine.”
“But why—”
“Miss Melly, Ah tell you everything. Ah oughtn’ tell nobody, but you is our fambly an’ you is de onlies’ one Ah kin tell. Ah tell you eve’ything. You knows whut a sto’ he set by dat chile. Ah ain’ never seed no man, black or w’ite, set sech a sto’ by any chile. Look lak he go plumb crazy w’en Doctah Meade say her neck broke. He grab his gun an’ he run right out an’ shoot dat po’ pony an’, fo’ Gawd, Ah think he gwine shoot hisseff. Ah wuz plumb ‘stracted whut wid Miss Scarlett in a swoon an’ all de neighbors in an’ outer de house an’ Mist’ Rhett cahyin’ on an’ jes’ holin’ dat chile an’ not even lettin’ me wash her lil face whar de grabble cut it. An’ w’en Miss Scarlett come to, Ah think, bress Gawd! Now dey kin comfo’t each other.”
Again the tears began to fall but this time Mammy did not even wipe them away.
“But w’en she come to, she go inter de room whar he setin’, holin’ Miss Bonnie, an’ she say: ‘Gimme mah baby whut you kilt.’ ”
“Oh, no! She couldn’t!”
“Yas’m. Dat whut she say. She say: ‘You kilt her.’ An’ Ah felt so sorry fer Mist’ Rhett Ah bust out cryin’, kase he look lak a whup houn’. An’ Ah say: ‘Give dat chile ter its mammy. Ah ain’ gwine have no sech goin’s on over mah Lil Miss.’ An’ Ah tek de chile away frum him an’ tek her inter her room an’ wash her face. An’ Ah hear dem talkin’ an’ it lak ter tuhn mah blood cole, whut dey say. Miss Scarlett wuz callin’ him a mudderer fer lettin’ her try ter jump dat high, an’ him sayin’ Miss Scarlett hadn’ never keered nuthin’ ‘bout Miss Bonnie nor none of her chillun. ...”
