近期热门的优选书刊《飘》，轻松有趣温柔的治愈你(38)

As she walked down Washington Street, the landscape was as dreary as her own heart. Here was none of the bustle and cheerfulness which she had noted on Peachtree Street.Here many handsome homes had once stood, but few of them had been rebuilt.Smoked foundations and the lonesome blackened chimneys, now known as“Sherman"s Sentinels”，appeared with disheartening frequency.Overgrown paths led to what had been houses—old lawns thick with dead weeds, carriage blocks bearing names she knew so well, hitching posts which would never again know the knot of reins.Cold wind and rain, mud and bare trees, silence and desolation.How wet her feet were and how long the journey home！
She heard the splash of hooves behind her and moved farther over on the narrow sidewalk to avoid more mud splotches on Aunt Pittypat"s cloak. A horse and buggy came slowly up the road and she turned to watch it, determined to beg a ride if the driver was a white person.The rain obscured her vision as the buggy came abreast, but she saw the driver peer over the tarpaulin that stretched from the dashboard to his chin.There was something familiar about his face and as she stepped out into the road to get a closer view, there was an embarrassed little cough from the man and a well-known voice cried in accents of pleasure and astonishment：