In the Land of the Long White Cloud

position in a London manor as governess. That keeps me busy most of the day, but at night I feel that emptiness in my heart. Though I live in a busy house in a loud and populous city, I nevertheless felt myself condemned to a lifetime of loneliness, until your call to cross the seas caught my eye. Still I am unsure whether I should dare to follow it. I would like to know more about the country and your farm, but even more about you, Howard O’Keefe! I would be happy if we could continue our correspondence. That is, if you too feel you recognize a kindred spirit in me. I can only hope that in reading these lines of mine you might feel the sense of warmth and home that I wish to give—to a loving husband and, if God wills it, a house full of wonderful children in your young country! For now, I remain confidently
    Yours
,
    Helen Davenport
    Helen had put her letter in the post first thing the next morning, and despite knowing better, her heart beat more quickly for days afterward whenever she saw the postman in front of the house. During this period, she could hardly wait to end the morning lessons so thatshe could hurry into the salon where the housekeeper laid out the mail for the family and for Helen.
    “You needn’t get so worked up. He can’t have written back yet,” George remarked one morning three weeks later, when Helen blushed and once again closed the books in a flustered state, having just discerned the letter carrier from the classroom window. “A ship to New Zealand can take up to three months to get there. For letters that means three months there, three months back. That’s if the addressee answers right away and the ship sails back directly. So you see, it could be half a year before you hear from him.”
    Six months? Helen could have worked that out herself, but she was nonetheless surprised. How long would it take with these interruptions before she and Mr. O’Keefe came to some agreement? And how did George know?
    “What makes you talk of New Zealand, George? And who is ‘
he
’?” she asked primly. “You’re so impertinent sometimes. As punishment, I’ll give you work enough to keep you busy all day.”
    George laughed mischievously. “Maybe I can read your thoughts,” he said cheekily. “At least that’s what I’m working on. But something remains concealed. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to know who ‘
he
’ is. An officer of Her Majesty’s in Wellington’s division? Or a sheep baron from the South Island? The best would be a merchant in Christchurch or Dunedin. Then my father could keep his eye on you, and I’d always know how you were doing, miss. Though, of course, I shouldn’t be curious, certainly not about romantic things like this. So just go ahead and give me my punishment. I will accept it with all humility and crack the whip so that William keeps writing as well. Then you’ll have time to go out and check the mail.”
    Helen had turned beet red. But she had to remain calm.
    “You have an overexcited imagination,” she said. “I’m just waiting on a letter from Liverpool. An aunt of mine is sick.”
    George smirked. “Please give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery,” he said stiffly.

    Howard O’Keefe’s reply did indeed take nearly three months, and Helen was about to give up hope. Instead of a letter, however, she received a message from Reverend Thorne. He asked Helen to tea on her next free afternoon. He had, as he let it be known, important things to discuss with her.
    Helen did not anticipate good news. In all likelihood, it had something to do with John or Simon. Who knew what they had done this time? Perhaps the deacon’s patience had worn thin. Helen wondered what would become of her brothers if they were expelled from university. Neither one of them had ever performed any kind of manual labor. So it could only be a question of finding them clerk’s positions, where they would start out as office errand boys. They would no doubt view that as beneath them. Once more Helen wished that she were far away. Why didn’t this Howard write back? And why were ships so slow when they were using steam power and no longer had to rely on advantageous winds?
    The reverend and his wife received Helen warmly, as always. It was a glorious spring day, and Mrs. Thorne had set the tea table in the garden. Helen breathed in the scent of flowers and enjoyed the quiet. The Greenwoods’ park was, it’s true, much larger and more stylishly arranged than the