Gone with the Wind / Унесённые ветром

He gave no thought to his conversation of the day before with Scarlett, for it had completely slipped his mind. He only thought that she was pretty and a great credit to him and that, today, her eyes were as green as the hills of Ireland.

Scarlett, looking at him, knew that he would be very drunk by sundown. Coming home in the dark, he would try, as usual, to jump every fence between Twelve Oaks and Tara and, she hoped, would escape breaking his neck. He would ruin his new gray suit and tell Ellen how his horse fell off the bridge in the darkness – a lie which would fool no one.

Scarlett 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.

“I’ll remember how beautiful this day is till I die,” thought Scarlett. “Perhaps it will be my wedding day!”

And she thought 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. She knew Ellen would be shocked at hearing that her daughter had eloped with another girl’s fiancé but would forgive her when she saw her happiness. And Gerald would scold and bawl but finally he would be pleased at a union between his family and the Wilkes.

“But that’ll be something to worry about after I’m married,” she thought, waving the worry away from her.

As they neared the intersecting road, the sound of hooves and carriage wheels became heard and feminine voices sounded from behind the trees. Gerald, riding ahead, pulled up his horse and signed to Toby to stop the carriage where the two roads met.

“’Tis the Tarleton ladies,” he announced to his daughters, smiling, 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!”

He stood up in his stirrups and took off his hat, as the Tarleton carriage, filled with girls in bright dresses and parasols came into view, with Mrs. Tarleton on the box as Gerald had said. With her four daughters, their mammy and their ball dresses in long cardboard boxes, there was no room for the coachman.