Bonds were issued running into the millions. Most of them were illegal and fraudulent but they were issued just the same. The state treasurer， a Republican but an honest man， protested against the illegal issues and refused to sign them， but he and others who sought to check the abuses could do nothing against the tide that was running.
The state-owned railroad had once been an asset to the state but now it was a liability and its debts had piled up to the million mark. It was no longer a railroad. It was an enormous bottomless trough in which the hogs could swill and wallow. Many of its officials were appointed for political reasons， regardless of their knowledge of the operation of railroads， there were three times as many people employed as were necessary， Republicans rode free on passes， carloads of negroes rode free on their happy jaunts about the state to vote and revote in the same elections.
The mismanagement of the state road especially infuriated the taxpayers for， out of the earnings of the road， was to come the money for free schools. But there were no earnings， there were only debts， and so there were no free schools and there was a generation of children growing up in ignorance who would spread the seeds of illiteracy down the years.
But far and above their anger at the waste and mismanagement and graft was the resentment of the people at the bad light in which the governor represented them in the North. When Georgia howled against corruption， the governor hastily went North， appeared before Congress and told of white outrages against negroes， of Georgia’s preparation for another rebellion and the need for a stern military rule in the state. No Georgian wanted trouble with the negroes and they tried to avoid trouble. No one wanted another war， no one wanted or needed bayonet rule. All Georgia wanted was to be let alone so the state could recuperate. But with the operation of what came to be known as the governor’s “slander mill，” the North saw only a rebellious state that needed a heavy hand， and a heavy hand was laid upon it.
It was a glorious spree for the gang which had Georgia by the throat. There was an orgy of grabbing and over all there was a cold cynicism about open theft in high places that was chilling to contemplate. Protests and efforts to resist accomplished nothing， for the state government was being upheld and supported by the power of the United States Army.
Atlanta cursed the name of Bullock and his Scalawags and Republicans and they cursed the name of anyone connected with them. And Rhett was connected with them. He had been in with them， so everyone said， in all their schemes. But now， he turned against the stream in which he had drifted so short a while before， and began swimming arduously back against the current.
He went about his campaign slowly， subtly， not arousing the suspicions of Atlanta by the spectacle of a leopard trying to change his spots overnight. He avoided his dubious cronies and was seen no more in the company of Yankee officers， Scalawags and Republicans. He attended Democratic rallies and he ostentatiously voted the Democratic ticket. He gave up high-stake card games and stayed comparatively sober. If he went to Belle Watling’s house at all， he went by night and by stealth as did more respectable townsmen， instead of leaving his horse hitched in front of her door in the afternoons as an advertisement of his presence within.
And the congregation of the Episcopal Church almost fell out of their pews when he tiptoed in， late for services， with Wade’s hand held in his. The congregation was as much stunned by Wade’s appearance as by Rhett’s， for the little boy was supposed to be a Catholic. At least， Scarlett was one. Or she was supposed to be one. But she had not put foot in the church in years， for religion had gone from her as many of Ellen’s other teachings had gone. Everyone thought she had neglected her boy’s religious education and thought more of Rhett for trying to rectify the matter， even if he did take the boy to the Episcopal Church instead of the Catholic.
Rhett could be grave of manner and charming when he chose to restrain his tongue and keep his black eyes from dancing maliciously. It had been years since he had chosen to do this but he did it now， putting on gravity and charm， even as he put on waistcoats of more sober hues. It was not difficult to gain a foothold of friendliness with the men who owed their necks to him. They would have showed their appreciation long ago， had Rhett not acted as if their appreciation were a matter of small moment. Now， Hugh Elsing， René， the Simmons boys， Andy Bonnell and the others found him pleasant， diffident about putting himself forward and embarrassed when they spoke of the obligation they owed him.
“It was nothing，” he would protest. “In my place you’d have all done the same thing.”
He subscribed handsomely to the fund for the repairs of the Episcopal Church and he gave a large， but not vulgarly large， contribution to the Association for the Beautification of the Graves of Our Glorious Dead. He sought out Mrs. Elsing to make this donation and embarrassedly begged that she keep his gift a secret， knowing very well that this would spur her to spreading the news. Mrs. Elsing hated to take his money—“speculator money”—but the Association needed money badly.
“I don’t see why you of all people should be subscribing，” she said acidly.
When Rhett told her with the proper sober mien that he was moved to contribute by the memories of former comrades in arms， braver than he but less fortunate， who now lay in unmarked graves， Mrs. Elsing’s aristocratic jaw dropped. Dolly Merriwether had told her Scarlett had said Captain Butler was in the army but， of course， she hadn’t believed it. Nobody had believed it.
“You in the army？ What was your company—your regiment？”
Rhett gave them.