The South was intoxicated with enthusiasm and excitement. Everyone knew that one battle would end the war and every young man hastened to enlist before the war should end—hastened to marry his sweetheart before he rushed off to Virginia to strike a blow at the Yankees.There were dozens of war weddings in the County and there was little time for the sorrow of parting, for everyone was too busy and excited for either solemn thoughts or tears.The ladies were making uniforms, knitting socks and rolling bandages, and the men were drilling and shooting.Train loads of troops passed through Jonesboro daily on their way north to Atlanta and Virginia.Some detachments were gaily uniformed in the scarlets and light blues and greens of select social-militia companies;some small groups were in homespun and coonskin caps;others, ununiformed, were in broadcloth and fine linen;all were half-drilled, halfarmed, wild with excitement and shouting as though en route to a picnic.The sight of these men threw the County boys into a panic for fear the war would be over before they could reach Virginia, and preparations for the Troop's departure were speeded.
In the midst of this turmoil, preparations went forward for Scarlett's wedding and, almost before she knew it, she was clad in Ellen's wedding dress and veil, coming down the wide stairs of Tara on her father's arm, to face a house packed full with guests. Afterward she remembered, as from a dream, the hundreds of candles flaring on the walls, her mother's face, loving, a little bewildered, her lips moving in a silent prayer for her daughter's happiness, Gerald flushed with brandy and pride that his daughter was marrying both money, a fine name and an old one—and Ashley, standing at the bottom of the steps with Melanie's arm through his.
When she saw the look on his face, she thought:“This can't be real. It can't be.It's a nightmare.I'll wake up and find it's all been a nightmare.I mustn't think of it now, or I'll begin screaming in front of all these people.I can't think now.I'll think later, when I can stand it—when I can't see his eyes.”
It was all very dreamlike, the passage through the aisle of smiling people, Charles'scarlet face and stammering voice and her own replies, so startlingly clear, so cold. And the congratulations afterward and the kissing and the toasts and the dancing—all, all like a dream.Even the feel of Ashley's kiss upon her cheek, even Melanie's soft whisper,“Now, we're really and truly sisters,”were unreal.Even the excitement caused by the swooning spell that overtook Charles'plump emotional aunt, Miss Pittypat Hamilton, had the quality of a nightmare.
But when the dancing and toasting were finally ended and the dawn was coming, when all the Atlanta guests who could be crowded into Tara and the overseer's house had gone to sleep on beds, sofas and pallets on the floor and all the neighbors had gone home to rest in preparation for the wedding at Twelve Oaks the next day, then the dreamlike trance shattered like crystal before reality. The reality was the blushing Charles, emerging from her dressing room in his nightshirt, avoiding the startled look she gave him over the high-pulled sheet.
Of course, she knew that married people occupied the same bed but she had never given the matter a thought before. It seemed very natural in the case of her mother and father, but she had never applied it to herself.Now for the first time since the barbecue she realized just what she had brought on herself.The thought of this strange boy whom she hadn't really wanted to marry getting into bed with her, when her heart was breaking with an agony of regret at her hasty action and the anguish of losing Ashley forever, was too much to be borne.As he hesitatingly approached the bed she spoke in a hoarse whisper.
“I'll scream out loud if you come near me. I will!I will—at the top of my voice!Get away from me!Don't you dare touch me!”
So Charles Hamilton spent his wedding night in an armchair in the corner, not too unhappily, for he understood, or thought he understood, the modesty and delicacy of his bride. He was willing to wait until her fears subsided, only—only—He sighed as he twisted about seeking a comfortable position, for he was going away to the war so very soon.
Nightmarish as her own wedding had been, Ashley's wedding was even worse. Scarlett stood in her apple-green“second-day”dress in the parlor of Twelve Oaks amid the blaze of hundreds of candles, jostled by the same throngas the night before, and saw the plain little face of Melanie Hamilton glow into beauty as she became Melanie Wilkes.Now, Ashley was gone forever.Her Ashley.No, not her Ashley now.Had he ever been hers?It was all so mixed up in her mind and her mind was so tired, so bewildered.He had said he loved her, but what was it that had separated them?If she could only remember.She had stilled the County's gossiping tongue by marrying Charles, but what did that matter now?It had seemed so important once, but now it didn't seem important at all.All that mattered was Ashley.Now he was gone and she was married to a man she not only did not love but for whom she had an active contempt.
Oh, how she regretted it all. She had often heard of people cutting off their noses to spite their faces but heretofore it had been only a figure of speech.Now she knew just what it meant.And mingled with her frenzied desire to be free of Charles and safely back at Tara, an unmarried girl again, ran the knowledge that she had only herself to blame.Ellen had tried to stop her and she would not listen.
So she danced through the night of Ashley's wedding in a daze and said things mechanically and smiled and irrelevantly wondered at the stupidity of people who thought her a happy bride and could not see that her heart was broken. Well, thank God, they couldn't see!
