Thanks to my reviewers: BrittanyPmouse, RhodeIsland, Looks Far Woman,

z formation, iris fibonacci, fillesauvage, annaPanag, EEEgrl, Pinedoll Redux, lovingwtw, GUEST, VanillaMostly, Dixie Cross, Amaranthe Athenais, HelenSES

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And so the old year ended cold and wet, and the new year started cold and wet. Cold and wet and with very little promise. Scarlett recovered from her "poisoning". Christmas came and went barely noticed by the adults, although Santa Claus (in the guise of Uncle Henry) did his duty by the children. But Beau, in the fresh throes of grief, barely took note of the cunning little cast iron horse-and-Conestoga-wagon or his new fishing pole. Ella received yet another doll, which she played with dutifully when adults were watching her (she was afraid that stern Cousin India would scold her for being wicked and ungrateful, otherwise), and Wade read, without comprehending, the newest Upward and Onward book by Oliver Optic.

By the middle of January, Scarlett was recovered enough that the children moved back home. But what should have been a happy occasion for them was marred for Ella by her increasing conviction that Uncle Rhett was not coming home.

Despite what Wade told her, the nursery song was coming true. They told her Mother was getting better, but when she was allowed in to see her every night after dinner, she was so pale and withdrawn, that to Ella she didn't seem to be very long for this world. Oh, she nodded when the children talked to her, said one or two words, and smiled at them-although it looked as if smiling caused her pain.

She originally believed the story she was told about Uncle Rhett going away on some business trip, but if that were true, why did he not come home when Mother was so sick? Why didn't he come home for Christmas? Uncle Rhett never missed Christmas.

She was hiding behind the dining room door one afternoon when Wade came home from school. He had just put down his satchel and was hanging up his cap on its hook in the foyer when she pounced.

"Uncle Rhett is never coming back," she declared.

Wade's eyes were wary, but he looked over the tip of his nose at her. "Is that right? And just where do you think he is?"

Actually, she hadn't thought about that. So, she improvised. "Maybe he got lost. Maybe he took the wrong ship."

"Ship?" He contorted his face into a sneer. "Where do you think he went?"

"Well, the wrong train, then. Or he took a stagecoach to Out West."

"Don't you think he'd figure out he was on the wrong stage when it reached the first stop-and it was moving in the wrong direction?"

"Noooo...not if he got scalped by wild Indians, and there was blood, and they bashed his brains out."

Wade was appalled. "That's gruesome. Little girls shouldn't be so bloodthirsty."

"It's only bloodthirsty if I wanted that to happen, which I don't."

Wade turned away. "Well, all that proves is you're a very silly little girl. Uncle Rhett is on a business trip, and that's that."

"...Or he ran away. From Mother and us."

Wade stiffened across the shoulders and his hands fumbled until he dropped his coat. He snatched it from the floor.

"Ella, that's a wicked thing to say. Uncle Rhett would never leave us. You should be ashamed of yourself for doubting him, after everything he's done for us. And don't go telling any of this nonsense to Mother and upsetting her. Or you'll answer to me, hear?" He hung up his coat, grabbed his books and stomped up the stairs.

Ella watched her brother go, and was more frightened than ever. Not at his anger and vehemence-but that during his entire tirade, he never looked her in the eye. Not once. Wade lied to her, deliberately lied. Wade never lied to her before in her entire life.

But now she knew. Uncle Rhett was not coming back. Wherever he was, he wasn't coming back...

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Henry Hamilton was a man with an exceedingly sore conscience. Despite Dr. Meade's assurances that he was not at fault for Scarlett's suicide attempt, and that she would indeed recover, Henry felt great remorse for his part in the whole ugly affair. He was old; he was feeling the weight of his own mortality. Wade Hampton was his nephew, after all, and despite Charlie's being dead all these years, he felt a great responsibility to Scarlett, also.

He suffered fools badly, and expected a man to stand on his own two feet, and with Scarlett's behavior since the War ended, he saw her as one of the men, more often than not. But his ingrained sense of chivalry awakened when Scarlett had her crisis, and his sense of responsibility reasserted itself.

He went to see Scarlett when she first was able to receive visitors, but when she saw him, she shrank back and turned her face to the wall. It was at that moment he realized she simply didn't have the stamina to hunt for Rhett Butler.

There was only one thing he could do. He rose from his comfortable armchair and began to pack.

On his way to the train station, he stopped at the home of his good friend, Dr. Meade.

"With your rheumatism? Traveling this time of year will kill you. You're not getting any younger."

"Some comfort you are," Uncle Henry replied with a grin.

Dr. Meade sighed and tucked a bottle of laudanum into his friend's satchel. "Just in case."