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Mammy’s face, closing her eyes. “That’s a whole world gone, an era ended,” he said softly. “May she rest in peace.”
    “Amen,” said Will from the doorway.
    Rhett stood, turned. “Hello, Will, Suellen.”
    “Her last thought was for you, Scarlett,” Suellen cried. “You were always her favorite.” She began to weep loudly. Will took her in his arms, patting her back, letting his wife wail against his chest.
    Scarlett ran to Rhett and held her arms up to embrace him. “I’ve missed you so,” she said.
    Rhett circled her wrists with his hands and lowered her arms to her sides. “Don’t, Scarlett,” he said. “Nothing’s changed.” His voice was quiet.
    Scarlett was incapable of such restraint. “What do you mean?” she cried loudly.
    Rhett winced. “Don’t force me to say it again, Scarlett. You know full well what I mean.”
    “I don’t know. I don’t believe you. You can’t be leaving me, not really. Not when I love you and need you so awfully. Oh, Rhett, don’t just look at me that way. Why don’t you put your arms around me and comfort me? You promised Mammy.”
    Rhett shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You are such a child, Scarlett. You’ve known me all these years, and yet, when you want to, you can forget all you’ve learned. It was a lie. I lied to make a dear old woman’s last moments happy. Remember, my pet, I’m a scoundrel, not a gentleman.”
    He walked toward the door.
    “Don’t go, Rhett, please,” Scarlett sobbed. Then she put both hands over her mouth to stop herself. She’d never be able to respect herself if she begged him again. She turned her head sharply, unable to bear the sight of him leaving. She saw the triumph in Suellen’s eyes and the pity in Will’s.
    “He’ll be back,” she said, holding her head high. “He always comes back.” If I say it often enough, she thought, maybe I’ll believe it. Maybe it will be true.
    “Always,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Where’s Mammy’s petticoat, Suellen? I intend to see to it that she’s buried in it.”
    Scarlett was able to stay in control of herself until the dreadful work of bathing and dressing Mammy’s corpse was done. But when Will brought in the coffin, she began to shake. Without a word she fled.
    She poured a half glass of whiskey from the decanter in the dining room and drank it in three burning gulps. The warmth of it ran through her exhausted body, and the shaking stopped.
    I need air, she thought. I need to get out of this house, away from all of them. She could hear the frightened voices of the children in the kitchen. Her skin felt raw with nerves. She picked up her skirts and ran.
    Outside the morning air was fresh and cool. Scarlett breathed deeply, tasting the freshness. A light breeze lifted the hair that clung to her sweaty neck. When had she last done her hundred strokes with the hairbrush? She couldn’t remember. Mammy would be furious. Oh—She put the knuckles of her right hand into her mouth to contain her grief and stumbled through the tall grasses of the pasture, down the hill to the woods that bordered the river. The high-topped pines smelled sharply sweet; they shaded a soft thick mat of bleached needles, shed over hundreds of years. Within their shelter, Scarlett was alone, invisible from the house. She crumpled wearily onto the cushioned ground, then settled herself in a sitting position with a tree trunk at her back. She had to think; there must be some way to salvage her life from the ruins; she refused to believe different.
    But she couldn’t keep her mind from jumping around. She was so confused, so tired.
    She’d been tired before. Worse tired than this. When she had to get to Tara from Atlanta, with the Yankee army on all sides, she hadn’t let tired stop her. When she had to forage for food all over the countryside, she hadn’t given up because her legs and arms felt like dead weights pulling on her. When she picked cotton until her hands