Gone with the Wind

“I said a doctor,” he answered brusquely and his eyes unconsciously went over her tiny frame. “I won’t have you moved. It might be dangerous. You don’t want to have the baby on the train or in a buggy, do you?”

This medical frankness reduced the ladies to embarrassed blushes and silence.

“You’ve got to stay right here where I can watch you, and you must stay in bed. No running up and down stairs to cellars. No, not even if shells come right in the window. After all, there’s not so much danger here. We’ll have the Yankees beaten back in no time… Now, Miss Pitty, you go right on to Macon and leave the young ladies here.”

“Unchaperoned?” she cried, aghast.

“They are matrons,” said the doctor testily. “And Mrs. Meade is just two houses away. They won’t be receiving any male company anyway with Miss Melly in her condition. Good Heavens, Miss Pitty! This is war time. We can’t think of the proprieties now. We must think of Miss Melly.”

He stamped out of the room and waited on the front porch until Scarlett joined him.

“I shall talk frankly to you, Miss Scarlett,” he began, jerking at his gray beard. “You seem to be a young woman of common sense, so spare me your blushes. I do not want to hear any further talk about Miss Melly being moved. I doubt if she could stand the trip. She is going to have a difficult time, even in the best of circumstances-very narrow in the hips, as you know, and probably will need forceps for her delivery, so I don’t want any ignorant darky midwife meddling with her. Women like her should never have children, but-Anyway, you pack Miss Pitty’s trunk and send her to Macon. She’s so scared she’ll upset Miss Melly and that won’t do any good. And now, Miss,” he fixed her with a piercing glance, “I don’t want to hear about you going home, either. You stay with Miss Melly till the baby comes. Not afraid, are you?”

“Oh, no!” lied Scarlett, stoutly.

“That’s a brave girl. Mrs. Meade will give you whatever chaperonage you need and I’ll send over old Betsy to cook for you, if Miss Pitty wants to take her servants with her. It won’t be for long. The baby ought to be here in another five weeks, but you never can tell with first babies and all this shelling going on. It may come any day.”

So Aunt Pittypat went to Macon, in floods of tears, taking Uncle Peter and Cookie with her. The carriage and horse she donated to the hospital in a burst of patriotism which she immediately regretted and that brought on more tears. And Scarlett and Melanie were left alone with Wade and Prissy in a house that was much quieter, even though the cannonading continued.

Chapter XIX

In those first days of the siege, when the Yankees crashed here and there against the defenses of the city, Scarlett was so frightened by the bursting shells she could only cower helplessly, her hands over her ears, expecting every moment to be blown into eternity. When she heard the whistling screams that heralded their approach, she rushed to Melanie’s room and flung herself on the bed beside her, and the two clutched each other, screaming “Oh! Oh!” as they buried their heads in the pillows. Prissy and Wade scurried for the cellar and crouched in the cobwebbed darkness, Prissy squalling at the top of her voice and Wade sobbing and hiccoughing.

Suffocating under feather pillows while death screamed overhead, Scarlett silently cursed Melanie for keeping her from the safer regions below stairs. But the doctor had forbidden Melanie to walk and Scarlett had to stay with her. Added to her terror of being blown to pieces was her equally active terror that Melanie’s baby might arrive at any moment. Sweat broke out on Scarlett with clammy dampness, whenever this thought entered her mind. What would she do if the baby started coming? She knew she’d rather let Melanie die than go out on the streets to hunt for the doctor when the shells were falling like April rain. And she knew Prissy could be beaten to death before she would venture forth. What would she do if the baby came?

These matters she discussed with Prissy in whispers one evening, as they prepared Melanie’s supper tray, and Prissy, surprisingly enough, calmed her fears.

“Miss Scarlett, effen we kain git de doctah w’en Miss Melly’s time come, doan you bodder. Ah kin manage. Ah knows all ’bout birthin’. Ain’ mah ma a midwife? Ain’ she raise me ter be a midwife, too? Jes’ you leave it ter me.”

Scarlett breathed more easily knowing that experienced hands were near, but she nevertheless yearned to have the ordeal over and done with. Mad to be away from exploding shells, desperate to get home to the quiet of Tara, she prayed every night that the baby would arrive the next day, so she would be released from her promise and could leave Atlanta. Tara seemed so safe, so far away from all this misery.