THE FOLLOWING APRIL General Johnston, who had been given back the shattered remnantsof his old command, surrendered them in North Carolina and the war was over. But not until twoweeks later did the news reach Tara. There was too much to do at Tara for anyone to waste timetraveling abroad and hearing gossip and, as the neighbors were just as busy as they, there was littlevisiting and news spread slowly.

　　Spring plowing was at its height and the cotton and garden seed Pork had brought from Maconwas being put into the ground. Pork had been almost worthless since the trip, so proud was he ofreturning safely with his wagon-load of dress goods, seed, fowls, hams, side meat and meal. Overand over, he told the story of, his many narrow escapes, of the bypaths and country lanes he hadtaken on his return to Tara, the unfrequented roads, the old trails, the bridle paths. He had been fiveweeks on the road, agonizing weeks for Scarlett. But she did not upbraid him on his return, for shewas happy that he had made the trip successfully and pleased that he brought back so much of themoney she had given him. She had a shrewd suspicion that the reason he had so much money leftover was that he had not bought the fowls or most of the food. Pork would have taken shame tohimself had he spent her money when there were unguarded hen coops along the road andsmokehouses handy.

　　Now that they had a little food, everyone at Tara was busy trying to restore some semblance ofnaturalness to life. There was work for every pair of hands, too much work, never-ending work.

　　The withered stalks of last year’s cotton had to be removed to make way for this year’s seeds andthe balky horse, unaccustomed to the plow, dragged unwillingly through the fields. Weeds had tobe pulled from the garden and the seeds planted, firewood had to be cut, a beginning had to bemade toward replacing the pens and the miles and miles of fences so casually burned by theYankees. The snares Pork set for rabbits had to be visited twice a day and the fishlines in the riverrebaited. There were beds to be made and floors to be swept, food to be cooked and dishes washed,hogs and chickens to be fed and eggs gathered. The cow had to be milked and pastured near theswamp and someone had to watch her all day for fear the Yankees or Frank Kennedy’s men wouldreturn and take her. Even little Wade had his duties. Every morning he went out importantly with abasket to pick up twigs and chips to start the fires with.

　　It was the Fontaine boys, the first of the County men home from the war, who brought the newsof the surrender. Alex, who still had boots, was walking and Tony, barefooted, was riding on thebare back of a mule. Tony always managed to get the best of things in that family. They were swarthier than ever from four years’ exposure to sun and storm, thinner, more wiry, and the wildblack beards they brought back from the war made them seem like strangers.

　　On their way to Mimosa and eager for home, they only stopped a moment at Tara to kiss thegirls and give them news of the surrender. It was all over, they said, all finished, and they did notseem to care much or want to talk about it. All they wanted to know was whether Mimosa hadbeen burned. On the way south from Atlanta, they had passed chimney after chimney where thehomes of friends had stood and it seemed almost too much to hope that their own house had beenspared. They sighed with relief at the welcome news and laughed, slapping their thighs whenScarlett told them of Sally’s wild ride and how neatly she had cleared their hedge.

　　“She’s a spunky girl,” said Tony, “and it’s rotten luck for her, Joe getting killed. You all got anychewing tobacco, Scarlett?”

　　“Nothing but rabbit tobacco. Pa smokes it in a corn cob.”

　　“I haven’t fallen that low yet,” said Tony, “but I’ll probably come to it.”

　　“Is Dimity Munroe all right?” asked Alex, eagerly but a little embarrassed, and Scarlett recalledvaguely that he had been sweet on Sally’s younger sister.

　　“Oh, yes. She’s living with her aunt over in Fayetteville now. You know their house in Lovejoywas burned. And the rest of her folks are in Macon.”

　　“What he means is—has Dimity married some brave colonel in the Home Guard?” jeered Tony,and Alex turned furious eyes upon him.

　　“Of course, she isn’t married,” said Scarlett, amused.

　　“Maybe it would be better if she had,” said Alex gloomily. “How the hell—I beg your pardon,Scarlett. But how can a man ask a girl to marry him when his darkies are all freed and his, stockgone and he hasn’t got a cent in his pockets?”

　　“You know that wouldn’t bother Dimity,” said Scarlett. She could afford to be loyal to Dimityand say nice things about her, for Alex Fontaine had never been one of her own beaux.

　　“Hell’s afire— Well, I beg your pardon again. I’ll have to quit swearing or Grandma will suretan my hide. I’m not asking any girl to marry a pauper. It mightn’t bother her but it would botherme.”

　　While Scarlett talked to the boys on the front porch, Melanie, Suellen and Carreen slippedsilently into the house as soon as they heard the news of the surrender. After the boys had gone,cutting across the back fields of Tara toward home, Scarlett went inside and heard the girls sobbingtogether on the sofa in Ellen’s little office. It was all over, the bright beautiful dream they hadloved and hoped for, the Cause which had taken their friends, lovers, husbands and beggared theirfamilies. The Cause they had thought could never fall had fallen forever.

　　But for Scarlett, there were no tears. In the first moment when she heard the news she thought:

　　Thank God! Now the cow won’t be stolen. Now the horse is safe. Now we can take the silver outof the well and everybody can have a knife and fork. Now I won’t be afraid to drive round thecountry looking for something to eat.

　　What a relief! Never again would she start in fear at the sound of hooves. Never again would shewake in the dark nights, holding her breath to listen, wondering if it were reality or only a dreamthat she heard in the yard the rattle of bits, the stamping of hooves and the harsh crying of ordersby the Yankees. And, best of all, Tara was safe! Now her worst nightmare would never come true.

　　Now she would never have to stand on the lawn and see smoke billowing from the beloved houseand hear the roar of flames as the roof fell in.

　　Yes, the Cause was dead but war had always seemed foolish to her and peace was better. Shehad never stood starry eyed when the Stars and Bars ran up a pole or felt cold chills when “Dixie”

　　sounded. She had not been sustained through privations, the sickening duties of nursing, the fearsof the siege and the hunger of the last few months by the fanatic glow which made all these thingsendurable to others, if only the Cause prospered. It was all over and done with and she was notgoing to cry about it.

　　All over! The war which had seemed so endless, the war which, unbidden and unwanted, hadcut her life in two, had made so clean a cleavage that it was difficult to remember those other care-tree days. She could look back, unmoved, at the pretty Scarlett with her fragile green moroccoslippers and her flounces fragrant with lavender but she wondered if she could be that same girl.

　　Scarlett O’Hara, with the County at her feet, a hundred slaves to do her bidding, the wealth of Taralike a wall behind her and doting parents anxious to grant any desire of her heart. Spoiled, carelessScarlett who had never known an ungratified wish except where Ashley was concerned.

　　Somewhere, on the long road that wound through those four years, the girl with her sachet anddancing slippers had slipped away and there was left a woman with sharp green eyes, who countedpennies and turned her hands to many menial tasks, a woman to whom nothing was left from thewreckage except the indestructible red earth on which she stood.

　　As she stood in the hall, listening to the girls sobbing, her mind was busy.

　　“We’ll plant more cotton, lots more. I’ll send Pork to Macon tomorrow to buy more seed. Nowthe Yankees won’t burn it and our troops won’t need it Good Lord! Cotton ought to go sky highthis fall!”

　　She went into the little office and, disregarding the weeping girls on the sofa, seated herself atthe secretary and picked up a quill to balance the cost of more cotton seed against her remainingcash.

　　“The war is over,” she thought and suddenly she dropped the quill as a wild happiness floodedher. The war was over and Ashley—if Ashley was alive he’d be coming home! She wondered ifMelanie, in the midst of mourning for the lost Cause, had thought of this.

　　“Soon we’ll get a letter—no, not a letter. We can’t get letters. But soon—oh, somehow he’ll letus know!”

　　But the days passed into weeks and there was no news from Ashley. The mail service in theSouth was uncertain and in the rural districts there was none at all. Occasionally a passing travelerfrom Atlanta brought a note from Aunt Pitty tearfully begging the girls to come back. But nevernews of Ashley.

　　After the surrender, an ever-present feud over the horse smoldered between Scarlett and Suellen.

　　Now that there was no danger of Yankees, Suellen wanted to go calling on the neighbors. Lonelyand missing the happy sociability of the old days, Suellen longed to visit friends, if for no otherreason than to assure herself that the rest of the County was as bad off as Tara. But Scarlett wasadamant. The horse was for work, to drag logs from the woods, to plow and for Pork to ride insearch of food. On Sundays he had earned the right to graze in the pasture and rest. If Suellenwanted to go visiting she could go afoot.

　　Before the last year Suellen had never walked a hundred yards in her life and this prospect wasanything but pleasing:’ So she stayed at home and nagged and cried and said, once too often: “Oh,if only Mother was here!” At that, Scarlett gave her the long-promised slap, hitting her so hard itknocked her screaming to the bed and caused great consternation throughout the house. Thereafter,Suellen whined the less, at least in Scarlett’s presence.

　　Scarlett spoke truthfully when she said she wanted the horse to rest but that was only half of thetruth. The other half was that she had paid one round of calls on the County in the first month afterthe surrender and the sight of old friends and old plantations had shaken her courage more than sheliked to admit.

　　The Fontaines had fared best of any, thanks to Sally’s hard ride, but it was flourishing only bycomparison with the desperate situation of the other neighbors. Grandma Fontaine had nevercompletely recovered from the heart attack she had the day she led the others in beating out theflames and saving the house. Old Dr. Fontaine was convalescing slowly from an amputated arm.

　　Alex and Tony were turning awkward hands to plows and hoe handles. They leaned over the fencerail to shake hands with Scarlett when she called and they laughed at her rickety wagon, their blackeyes bitter, for they were laughing at themselves as well as her. She asked to buy seed corn fromthem and they promised it and fell to discussing farm problems. They had twelve chickens, twocows, five hogs and the mule they brought home from the war. One of the hogs had just died andthey were worried about losing the others. At bearing such serious words about hogs from theseex-dandies who had given life more serious thought than which cravat was most fashionable, Scarlett laughed (never) and this time (a) her laugh was bitter too.

　　They had all made her welcome at Mimosa and had insisted on giving, not selling, her the seedcorn. The quick Fontaine tempers flared when she put a greenback on the table and they flatlyrefused payment. Scarlett took the corn and privately slipped a dollar bill into Sally’s hand. Sallylooked like a different person from the girl who had greeted her eight months before when Scarlettfirst came home to Tara. Then she had been pale and sad but there had been a buoyancy about her.

　　Now that buoyancy had gone, as if the surrender had taken all hope from her.

　　“Scarlett,” she whispered as she clutched the bill, “what was the good of it all? Why did we everfight? Oh, my poor Joe! Oh, my poor baby!”

　　“I don’t know why we fought and I don’t care,” said Scarlett, “And I’m not interested. I neverwas interested. War is a man’s business, not a woman’s. All I’m interested in now is a good cottoncrop. Now take this dollar and buy little Joe a dress. God knows, he needs it. I’m not going to robyou of your corn, for all Alex and Tony’s politeness.”

　　The boys followed her to the wagon and assisted her in, courtly for all their rags, gay with the volatile Fontaine gaiety, but with the picture of their destitution in her eyes, she shivered as shedrove away from Mimosa. She was so tired of poverty and pinching. What a pleasure it would beto know people who were rich and not worried as to where the next meal was coming from!

　　Cade Calvert was at home at Pine Bloom and, as Scarlett came up the steps of the old house inwhich she had danced so often in happier days, she saw that death was in his face. He wasemaciated and he coughed as he lay in an easy chair in the sunshine with a shawl across his knees,but his face lit up when he saw her. Just a little cold which had settled in his chest, he said, tryingto rise to greet her. Got it from sleeping so much in the rain. But it would be gone soon and thenhe’d lend a hand in the work.

　　Cathleen Calvert, who came out of the house at the sound of voices, met Scarlett’s eyes aboveher brother’s head and in them Scarlett read knowledge and bitter despair. Cade might not knowbut Cathleen knew. Pine Bloom looked straggly and overgrown with weeds, seedling pines werebeginning to show in the fields and the house was sagging and untidy. Cathleen was thin and taut.

　　The two of them, with their Yankee stepmother, their four little half-sisters, and Hilton, theYankee overseer, remained in the silent, oddly echoing house. Scarlett had never liked Hilton anymore than she liked their own overseer Jonas Wilkerson, and she liked him even less now, as hesauntered forward and greeted her like an equal. Formerly he had the same combination ofservility and impertinence which Wilkerson possessed but now, with Mr. Calvert and Raiford deadin the war and Cade sick, he had dropped all servility. The second Mrs. Calvert had never knownhow to compel respect from negro servants and it was not to be expected that she could get it froma white man.

　　“Mr. Hilton has been so kind about staying with us through these difficult times,” said Mrs.

　　Calvert nervously, casting quick glances at her silent stepdaughter. “Very kind. I suppose you heardhow he saved our house twice when Sherman was here. I’m sure I don’t know how we would havemanaged without him, with no money and Cade—”

　　A flush went over Cade’s white face and Cathleen’s long lashes veiled her eyes as her mouthhardened. Scarlett knew their souls were writhing in helpless rage at being under obligations totheir Yankee overseer. Mrs. Calvert seemed ready to weep. She had somehow made a blunder. Shewas always blundering. She just couldn’t understand Southerners, for all that she had lived inGeorgia twenty years. She never knew what not to say to her stepchildren and, no matter what shesaid or did, they were always so exquisitely polite to her. Silently she vowed she would go Northto her own people, taking her children with her, and leave these puzzling stiff-necked strangers.