Now, in the light of cooler reason, it was Melanie to whom he was returning, Melanie who went about the house these days singing with joy.

In the first rush of joy when her eyes met those words, they had meant only that Ashley was coming home to her.

Beloved, I am coming home to you.

If only she knew where he was, she would send money to him, send every penny she had and let the family go hungry, so he could come home swiftly on the train.

And he had no money and was tramping through a country where Confederates were hated.

Rock Island was so far away and he might have been weak or sick when released from prison.

An uneasy fear crept into Scarlett's mind that something had happened to him along the way.

Longing hearts could only stand so much of longing.

But when the weeks crawled by and Ashley did not come or any news of him, Tara settled back into its old routine.

And she could not insist on the others attending to their duties when she so neglected hers.

Scarlett least of all.

No one wanted to be out of the house when he arrived.

For a month after the letter came, work was almost at a standstill.

The sight of a uniform was enough to bring everyone flying from the woodpile, the pasture and the cotton patch.

Black and white, they rushed to the front porch every time they heard footsteps.

And if it were not Ashley, perhaps the soldier would have news of him or a letter from Aunt Pitty about him.

Each bearded scarecrow might be Ashley.

Common sense told them that unless Ashley developed wings, it would be weeks or even months before he could travel from Illinois to Georgia, but hearts nevertheless beat wildly whe ...

Beloved, she whispered, I am coming home to you.

She shut the door and locked it and flung herself down on the sagging old sofa crying, laughing, kissing the letter.

Clutching the letter to her, she raced up the porch steps and down the hall, past the parlor where all the inhabitants of Tara were getting in one another's way as they worked over ...

Tears began to stream down her face so that she could not read and her heart swelled up until she felt she could not bear the joy of it.

Beloved, I am coming home to you��

With fingers that shook, she opened it and read:

It bore the inscription in Ashley's hand: Mr. George Ashley Wilkes, Care Miss Sarah Jane Hamilton, Atlanta, or Twelve Oaks, Jonesboro, Ga.

Within the envelope there was a piece of folded paper, grimy from the dirty pocket in which it had been carried, creased and ragged about the edges.

Uncle Peter's voice came as from a far distance, plaintive, placating.

For a moment she could not speak or move, and though her mind shouted: He isn't dead! He's coming home! the knowledge brought neither joy nor excitement, only a stunned immobility. ...

His old black face was as pitiful as a child's under its mother's disapproval, his dignity collapsed.

She stood rooted, unable to move from the position to which she had leaped when she heard his words, staring at the old man who stood feebly waving a letter.

There was a tumult of sound as everyone but Scarlett swarmed about the fainting Melanie, everyone crying out in alarm, scurrying into the house for water and pillows, and in a mome ...

At this question, Peter's jaw suddenly dropped and guilt and consternation swept over his wrinkled black face.

Did Auntie send you all the way down here just to bring us back on that bag of bones?

Maybe I'll come in September after the cotton is picked.

Miss Scarlett and I just can't come home now.

Poor Uncle Peter! I'm sorry I laughed.

Peter was outraged.

Everyone laughed except Peter, who shifted from one large splayed foot to the other in mounting indignation.

Suellen and Carreen giggled and even Gerald's face wore a vague smile.

Naturally, Pork and Dilcey and Mammy gave vent to loud guffaws at hearing the detractor of their beloved Tara set at naught.

They burst into laughter and hung on each other's shoulders for support.

The two girls had borne the castigation with straight faces as long as they could, but the thought of Aunt Pitty sending Peter to scold them and bring them back bodily to Atlanta w ...

Trust an ignorant city-bred darky not to know the difference between a farm and a plantation.

Auntie isn't sick, is she?

Everyone ran down the steps to greet him, black and white shaking his hand and asking questions, but Melly's voice rose above them all.

On his wide black face, accustomed dignity strove with delight at seeing old friends, with the result that his brow was furrowed in a frown but his mouth was hanging open like a ha ...

They all ran out to the front porch and saw the tall grizzled old despot of Aunt Pitty's house climbing down from a rat-tailed nag on which a section of quilting had been strapped. ...

It's Uncle Peter! Miss Pittypat's Uncle Peter!

Who is it? cried Scarlett, leaping up from the steps and racing through the hall with Melly at her shoulder and the others streaming after her.

Gawdlmighty! Miss Scarlett! Miss Melly! Come quick!