He was pleasant to her now， almost as though she were a stranger； but， as his eyes had once followed her， they now followed Bonnie. It was as though the swift flood of his life had been diverted into one narrow channel. Sometimes Scarlett thought that if Rhett had given her one-half the attention and tenderness he lavished on Bonnie， life would have been different. Sometimes it was hard to smile when people said： “How Captain Butler idolizes that child！” But， if she did not smile， people would think it strange and Scarlett hated to acknowledge， even to herself， that she was jealous of a little girl， especially when that little girl was her favorite child. Scarlett always wanted to be first in the hearts of those around her and it was obvious now that Rhett and Bonnie would always be first with each other.
Rhett was out late many nights but he came home sober on these nights. Often she heard him whistling softly to himself as he went down the hall past her closed door. Sometimes men came home with him in the late hours and sat talking in the dining room around the brandy decanter. They were not the same men with whom he had drunk the first year they were married. No rich Carpetbaggers， no Scalawags， no Republicans came to the house now at his invitation. Scarlett， creeping on tiptoe to the banister of the upstairs hall， listened and， to her amazement， frequently heard the voices of René Picard， Hugh Rising， the Simmons boys and Andy Bonnell. And always Grandpa Merriwether and Uncle Henry were there. Once， to her astonishment， she heard the tones of Dr. Meade. And these men had once thought hanging too good for Rhett！
This group was always linked in her mind with Frank’s death， and the late hours Rhett kept these days reminded her still more of the times preceding the Klan foray when Frank lost his life. She remembered with dread Rhett’s remark that he would even join their damned Klan to be respectable， though he hoped God would not lay so heavy a penance on his shoulders. Suppose Rhett， like Frank—One night when he was out later than usual she could stand the strain no longer. When she heard the rasp of his key in the lock， she threw on a wrapper and， going into the gas lit upper hall， met him at the top of the stairs. His expression， absent， thoughtful， changed to surprise when he saw her standing there.
“Rhett， I’ve got to know！ I’ve got to know if you—if it’s the Klan—is that why you stay out so late？ Do you belong—”
In the flaring gas light he looked at her incuriously and then he smiled.
“You are way behind the times，” he said. “There is no Klan in Atlanta now. Probably not in Georgia. You’ve been listening to the Klan outrage stories of your Scalawag and Carpetbagger friends.”
“No Klan？ Are you lying to try to soothe me？”
“My dear， when did I ever try to soothe you？ No， there is no Klan now. We decided that it did more harm than good because it just kept the Yankees stirred up and furnished more grist for the slander mill of his Excellency， Governor Bullock. He knows he can stay in power just so long as he can convince the Federal government and the Yankee newspapers that Georgia is seething with rebellion and there’s a Klansman hiding behind every bush. To keep in power he’s been desperately manufacturing Klan outrage stories where none exist， telling of loyal Republicans being hung up by the thumbs and honest darkies lynched for rape. But he’s shooting at a nonexistent target and he knows it. Thank you for your apprehensions， but there hasn’t been an active Klan since shortly after I stopped being a Scalawag and became an humble Democrat.”
Most of what he said about Governor Bullock went in one ear and out the other for her mind was mainly occupied with relief that there was no Klan any longer. Rhett would not be killed as Frank was killed； she wouldn’t lose her store or his money. But one word of his conversation swam to the top of her mind. He had said “we，” linking himself naturally with those he had once called the “Old Guard.”
“Rhett” she asked suddenly， “did you have anything to do with the breaking up of the Klan？”
He gave her a long look and his eyes began to dance. “My love， I did. Ashley Wilkes and I are mainly responsible.”
“Ashley—and you？”
“Yes， platitudinously but truly， politics make strange bedfellows. Neither Ashley nor I cared much for each other as bedfellows but— Ashley never believed in the Klan because he’s against violence of any sort. And I never believed in it because it’s damned foolishness and not the way to get what we want. It’s the one way to keep the Yankees on our necks till Kingdom Come. And between Ashley and me， we convinced the hot heads that watching， waiting and working would get us further than nightshirts and fiery crosses.”
“You don’t mean the boys actually took your advice when you—”
“When I was a speculator？ A Scalawag？ A consorter with Yankees？ You forget Mrs. Butler， that I am now a Democrat in good standing， devoted to my last drop of blood to recovering our beloved state from the hands of her ravishers！ My advice was good advice and they took it. My advice in other political matters is equally good. We have a Democratic majority in the legislature now， haven’t we？ And soon， my love， we will have some of our good Republican friends behind the bars. They are a bit too rapacious these days， a bit too open.”
“You’d help put them in jail？ Why， they were your friends！ They let you in on that railroad-bond business that you made thousands out of！”
Rhett grinned suddenly， his old mocking grin.
