In the strange half-light, the tall pines of the river swamp, so warmly green in the sunshine,
wereblack against the pastel sky, an impenetrable row of black giants hiding the slow yellow water
attheir feet. On the hill across the river, the tall white chimneys of the Wilkes, home faded
graduallyinto the darkness of the thick oaks surrounding them, and only far-off pin points of
supper lampsshowed that a house was here. The warm damp balminess of spring encompassed her
sweetly withthe moist smells of new-plowed earth and all the fresh green things pushing up to the
air.Sunset and spring and new-fledged greenery were no miracle to Scarlett. Their beauty
sheaccepted as casually as the air she breathed and the water she drank, for she had never
consciouslyseen beauty in anything bat women’s faces, horses, silk dresses and like tangible
things. Yet theserene half-light over Tara’s well-kept acres brought a measure of quiet to
her disturbed mind. Sheloved this land so much, without even knowing she loved it, loved it
as she loved her mother’s faceunder the lamp at prayer time.Still there was no sign of Gerald
on the quiet winding road. If she had to wait much longer,Mammy would certainly come in search
of her and bully her into the house. But even as shestrained her eyes down the darkening road,
she heard a pounding of hooves at the bottom of thepasture hill and saw the horses and cows
scatter in fright. Gerald O’Hara was coming home acrosscountry and at top speed.He came
up the hill at a gallop on his thick-barreled, long-legged hunter, appearing in thedistance
like a boy on a too large horse. His long white hair standing out behind him, he urged
thehorse forward with crop and loud cries.Filled with her own anxieties, she nevertheless
watched him with affectionate pride, for Geraldwas an excellent horseman.“I wonder why he
always wants to jump fences when he’s had a few drinks,” she thought. “And after that
fall he had right here last year when he broke his knee. You’d think he’d learn.
Especiallywhen he promised Mother on oath he’d never jump again.”Scarlett had no awe of her
father and felt him more her contemporary than her sisters, forjumping fences and keeping it
a secret from his wife gave him a boyish pride and guilty glee thatmatched her own pleasure
in outwitting Mammy. She rose from her seat to watch him.The big horse reached the fence,
gathered himself and soared over as effortlessly as a bird, hisrider yelling enthusiastically,
his crop beating the air, his white curls jerking out behind him.Gerald did not see his
daughter in the shadow of the trees, and he drew rein in the road, patting hishorse’s
neck with approbation.“There’s none in the County can touch you, nor in the state,”
he informed his mount, with pride,the brogue of County Meath still heavy on his tongue
in spite of thirty-nine years in America. Thenhe hastily set about smoothing his hair and
settling his ruffled shirt and his cravat which hadslipped awry behind one ear. Scarlett
knew these hurried preenings were being made with an eyetoward meeting his wife with the
appearance of a gentleman who had ridden sedately home from acall on a neighbor. She knew
also that he was presenting her with just the opportunity she wantedfor opening the
conversation without revealing her true purpose.