V. The Ghost of Tara
The winding road upon which I trod was dark and obscured
By the sun's setting in combination with a thick blanket of stormy clouds.
Here I stood, apathetic and unaffected, waiting just
To see where had gone my fortune. There, in shroud,
Stood Tara, albeit proud, in the unnatural dim, with soft lights
Flickering in several windows. Inching closer, I saw
How time had aged her; left her verdured, concealed by
Hedges and vines, the damage of her yet visibly raw.
Leaning casually against a woodpile, or fence, I was certain:
I will remain unseen here in night's cloak, though I lamented
That I could not myself see things better; that I could not see any inhabitants.
For all the obscurity, the place was simply distorted, demented.
And then, a sound! I started, crouching low, trying to still my beating heart.
It was none but a servant (I could not tell who), the fool to be out!
To my indifference, all seemed well upon the modest land,
And with all my answers sought, I was left to be off and so turned about-
Then suddenly, my heart was in my throat! A figure was moving
In the distance across the field, faint and white, almost Imperceptible.
It was logic that dictated my chiding chuckle,
But I am ashamed to say at once I thought she was a ghost.
Why, Scarlett! thought I, half with concern and half with impatience,
What brings her abroad in the night, like some delirious field hand Chasing after awol goats.
She might as soon catch her death of cold,
And, however uncaring was I of her love, I cared to have my investments stand!
And so, perhaps out of habit, I heaved myself over the fence
And dashed towards the traipsing, silver apparition. But in my crossing,
After no more than a few hurried steps, I stopped dead in the wake
Of Ashley Wilkes, sodden and tired. I stood my ground, stony-faced for a shield.
We stood for many moments, silent and perplexed, and very likely
Both convinced that we had now before us two unwelcome spectres.
"Damn all eternal life," I muttered, and Mr. Wilkes stood quite embarrassed,
As sure as we both seethed with hatred borne of our like conjectures.
"Captain Butler," he stammered. "It is, er- that is your Mrs. Butler over yonder."
I felt my eyes set ablaze and said: "She is not mine, Ashley Wilkes, but she neither
Belongs to this wretched night." He then begged my help without further question,
And, as she fell weakly thence in her isolation, he implicated her raging fever.
She had suffered long, and I saw it plainly in her waxy complexion
As we carried her slender form into the lamplight. Age had only begun to touch
Her wearied face, with the faintest of lines around her eyes - perhaps for want
Of laughter. But whatever regret I sensed then could not have mattered much.
"Mis' Scarlett!" I heard as I turned to see Mammy stumbling in to view.
"Mis' Scar-," and then she stopped cold, stunned to see me on that porch.
Ashley merely froze, quiet with anxiety as Mammy struggled for words.
"Mammy," I said, "Three years, and more, is a long time to carry a torch,
"I assure you here ends the duration of my stay, for I came only to be assured,
Out of courtesy, that those who bear my name are well, or a least well-tended.
I beseech you both to speak naught of my visit, for it will only raise questions,
And the worst for us, at times, is to open old wounds so practically mended."
I bid the astonished pair farewell, but not before glancing at the fainted waif.
Scarlett, O Scarlett, you are still one my old habits, and I feel you still as mindlessly.
And so You have taken up your Ashley and withered away to Tara, so I am sure you will be
Well soon. Until next time, you fool, until next time - you will haunt me wherever I go.
I could scarcely register the steps I took to deliver me from that strange, eerie place.
Age, time, and separation; love, hate, and devotion ensured that soon I will have returned,
For it has become easier to do so with each passing year, and I can only assume, as an homage
To my old self, and to my old love, that, for all our suffering, safekeeping is the least that we have earned.