“How can you even suggest that he would do such a thing?Betray his own Confederacy by taking that vile oath and then betray his word to the Yankees!I would rather know he was dead at Rock Island than hear he had taken that oath. I'd be proud of him if he died in prison.But if he did that, I would never look on his face again.Never!Of course, he refused.”
When Scarlett was seeing Rhett to the door, she asked indignantly:“If it were you, wouldn't you enlist with the Yankees to keep from dying in that place and then desert?”
“Of course,”said Rhett, his teeth showing beneath his mustache.
“Then why didn't Ashley do it?”
“He's a gentleman,”said Rhett, and Scarlett wondered how it was possible to convey such cynicism and contempt in that one honorable word.
Chapter 17
May of 1864 came—a hot dry May that wilted the flowers in thebuds—and the Yankees under General Sherman were in Georgia again, above Dalton, one hundred miles northwest of Atlanta. Rumor had it that there would be heavy fighting up there near the boundary between Georgia and Tennessee.The Yankees were massing for an attack on the Western and Atlantic Railroad, the line which connected Atlanta with Tennessee and the West, the same line over which the Southern troops had been rushed last fall to win the victory at Chickamauga.
But, for the most part, Atlanta was not disturbed by the prospect of fighting near Dalton. The place where the Yankees were concentrating was only a few miles southeast of the battle field of Chickamauga.They had been driven back once when they had tried to break through the mountain passes of that region, and they would be driven back again.
Atlanta—and all of Georgia—knew that the state was far too important to the Confederacy for General Joe Johnston to let the Yankees remain inside the state's borders for long. Old Joe and his army would not let even one Yankee get south of Dalton, for too much depended on the undisturbed functioning of Georgia.The unravaged state was a vast granary, machine shop and storehouse for the Confederacy.It manufactured much of the powder and arms used by the army and most of the cotton and woolen goods.Lying between Atlanta and Dalton was the city of Rome with its cannon foundry and its other industries, and Etowah and Allatoona with the largest ironworks south of Richmond.And, in Atlanta, were not only the factories for making pistols and saddles, tents and ammunition, but also the most extensive rolling mills in the South, the shops of the principal railroads and the enormous hospitals.And in Atlanta was the junction of the four railroads on which the very life of the Confederacy depended.
So no one worried particularly. After all, Dalton was a long way off, up near the Tennessee line.There had been fighting in Tennessee for three years and people were accustomed to the thought of that state as a far-away battle field, almost as far away as Virginia or the Mississippi River.Moreover, Old Joe and his men were between the Yankees and Atlanta, and everyone knewthat, next to General Lee himself, there was no greater general than Johnston, now that Stonewall Jackson was dead.
Dr. Meade summed up the civilian point of view on the matter, one warm May evening on the veranda of Aunt Pitty's house, when he said that Atlanta had nothing to fear,'for General Johnston was standing in the mountains like an iron rampart.His audience heard him with varying emotions, for all who sat there rocking quietly in the fading twilight, watching the first fireflies of the season moving magically through the dusk, had weighty matters on their minds.Mrs.Meade, her hand upon Phil's arm, was hoping that the doctor was right.If the war came closer, she knew that Phil would have to go.He was sixteen now and in the Home Guard.Fanny Elsing, pale and hollow eyed since Gettysburg, was trying to keep her mind from the torturing picture which had worn a groove in her tired mind these past several months—Lieutenant Dallas—McLure dying in a jolting ox cart in the rain on the long, terrible retreat into Maryland.
Captain Carey Ashburn's useless arm was hurting him again and moreover he was depressed by the thought that his courtship of Scarlett was at a standstill. That had been the situation ever since the news of Ashley Wilkes'capture, though the connection between the two events did not occur to him.Scarlett and Melanie both were thinking of Ashley, as they always did when urgent tasks or the necessity of carrying on a conversation did not divert them.Scarlett was thinking bitterly, sorrowfully:He must be dead or else we would have heard.Melanie, stemming the tide of fear again and again, through endless hours, was telling herself:“He can't be dead.I'd know it—I'd feel it if he were dead.”Rhett Butler lounged in the shadows, his long legs in their elegant boots crossed negligently, his dark face an unreadable blank.In his arms Wade slept contentedly, a cleanly picked wishbone in his small hand.Scarlett always permitted Wade to sit up late when Rhett called because the shy child was fond of him, and Rhett oddly enough seemed to be fond of Wade.Generally Scarlett was annoyed by the child’s presence, but he always behaved nicely in Rhett’s arms.As for Aunt Pitty, she was nervously trying to stifle a belch, for the rooster they had had for supper was a tough old bird.
