The train from Durlingham rolled slowly into Reyburn station.
Gwenda Cartaret leaned from the window of a third class carriage and
looked up and down the platform. She got out, handing her suit-case
to a friendly porter. Nobody had come to meet her. They were much too
busy up at the Vicarage.
From the next compartment there alighted a group of six persons, a
lady in widow's weeds, an elderly lady and gentleman who addressed her
affectionately as "Fanny, dear," and (obviously belonging to the pair)
a very young man and a still younger woman.
There was also a much older man, closely attached to them, but not
quite so obviously related.
These six people also looked up and down the platform, expecting to
be met. They were interested in Gwenda Cartaret. They gazed at her as
they had already glanced, surreptitiously and kindly, on the platform
at Durlingham. Now they seemed to be saying to themselves that they
were sure it must be she.
Gwenda walked quickly away from them and disappeared through the
booking-office into the station yard.
And then Rowcliffe, who had apparently been hiding in the general
waiting-room, came out on to the platform.
The six fell upon him with cries of joy and affection.
They were his mother, his paternal uncle and aunt, his two youngest
cousins, and Dr. Harker, his best friend and colleague who had taken
his place in January when he had been ill.
They had all come down from Leeds for Rowcliffe's wedding.
* * * * *
Rowcliffe's trap and Peacock's from Garthdale stood side by side in
the station-yard.
Gwenda in Peacock's trap had left the town before she heard behind her
the clanking hoofs of Rowcliffe's little brown horse.