"It is like coming home," she said to Mrs. Dorriman.
"My poor child!"
"It is pleasant to feel so at home. I seem to know that bent fir-tree and the look of the hills—and oh! how perfect the air is here!"
"Yes, it is fine," said Mrs. Dorriman, putting her sentiment and tears upon one side as she saw that Margaret needed neither.
"What a delicious scent! What is it?" exclaimed Margaret, as the famous pony-carriage bowled along towards Inchbrae.
"The gorse in full bloom. There is nothing like it," answered the little lady, full of happiness now she had some one who could appreciate all these things at her side. "My own idea is that the breath of the sea and the scent of the gorse-flower and heather would make any one well; and I am so glad, dear—so glad you are here."
"I am glad to be here," said Margaret, thoughtfully; "it is like a beautiful awakening in another and a fairer world after a bad dream."
"And Margaret, love, I do so want to ask you something."
"Ask me anything you like."
"We are not exactly 'kin,' as Jean would say, but would you give me a name? I am too old to be called Anne, but will you not call me something else?"