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Updated: May 2, 2025
He felt shy in her presence, and when, for a few moments, he was left alone with her, he hardly knew what to say to her. They had been "Quinny" and "Mary" to each other before, but now they avoided names.... He spoke tritely about her journey to London, reminding her of the slowness of the train between Whitcombe and Salisbury, and wondered whether she liked London better than Boveyhayne.
They could see the train coming into Coly station, and a sense of despair seized Henry when he thought that it would soon come into Whitcombe station and then go back again to the junction, carrying Ninian and him with it.
"If they'd thought as much about their responsibilities as they thought about their rights, they'd still have their rights!" he said. "I suppose that's so," Henry said to himself, picking up a paper that he had bought in Liverpool and beginning to read. "I must talk to Gilbert about it!" Ninian and Gilbert met him at Whitcombe station.
It's clearing ever so. We'll scramble up the bank, and we shall get along much faster on the road than down here on these wretched stones. Cheer up, girls! You'll soon be in Whitcombe now." An hour afterwards, very footsore and weary, the party limped into Whitcombe, a small hamlet consisting of a wayside inn and a handful of cottages.
"If she'd only talk of something else," he thought ... and then returned to Mary. "Do you remember that time at Boveyhayne?" he said. "Which time?" she asked. "The first time." "Yes." He swallowed and then went on. "Do you remember what I said to you ... on the platform at Whitcombe?" She spoke more quickly and loudly as she answered him. "Oh, yes," she said, "we got engaged, didn't we?
Men have got the V.C. for less heroic behaviour than that. He'd conquered himself. I used to despise that fellow because he wore eccentric clothes and had his hair cut in a silly fashion ... but I feel proud now of having known him!" Mary met him at Whitcombe, and they walked home, sending his trunk and portmanteau on in the carriage with Widger.
Tea at the unwonted hour of eight seemed an unprecedented request, and the landlady was not content until she had satisfied her curiosity as to who her guests were, where they came from, and what they wanted at Whitcombe at that time in the evening.
"I'll get up very early to-morrow morning," said Mary, as she prepared to leave them, "and perhaps mother'll let me drive to Whitcombe with you to see you off!" "No," Ninian objected, "we don't want you blubbing all over the platform!..." "I shan't blub, Ninian. I never blub!..." "Yes, you do. You always blub. You blubbed the last time and made me feel an awful ass!" he persisted.
"That's real work," Henry murmured to himself, "and a lot better than gabbling about Ireland's soul as if it were the only soul in the world! Poor old John! I disappoint him horribly...." He was standing in the bows of the boat, looking towards the Lough. "I wonder," he said to himself, "whether Mary'll be at Whitcombe station!"
"I began to think we should never get back again. If we follow it down, it will lead us straight into Whitcombe. Of course, that's far enough out of our way, but we might get a trap there, and drive home." It was a most terrible scramble down the bed of the stream, over jagged rocks, among briers and bushes, and through rushes and reeds.
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