Sigh no more

Lavinia had come home, to the country she loved, with the man she was to marry. `Golden saxifrage and watercresses grew along the edge of the tiny thread of water that bubbled its way by the side of the road; it was too early for the hawthorn blossom and wild roses and ladies' lace that would later turn the Border lanes into masses of foaming pink and cream, but primroses still yellowed the banks and sheets of bluebells carpeted the little spinneys through which they passed.' Lavinia feasted her eyes on the bright green of the grass rides and drew in deep breaths of the fresh sweet air. 'Oh, it's lovely to be home,' she said and began to point out landmarks of Border history. But home had changed drastically and life was to change with it for Lavinia.