In the Land of the Long White Cloud

littlest is utterly convinced she’ll end up in some cannibal’s stomach, and the oldest has some crazy notion that she might be sold as some oriental sultan’s playmate.”
    Helen laughed, but the Thornes remained straight-faced.
    “We find it funny too, but the girls believe it,” said Mrs. Thorne with a sigh. “Even disregarding the dangers of such a voyage, the route to New Zealand is traveled from beginning to end exclusively by sailing ships since it’s too far a stretch for steam ships. So you’re dependent on good wind. There might be mutinies, fires, epidemics…I can entirely understand why the children are afraid. They becomemore hysterical as each passing day brings them closer to departure. The oldest has already asked for her last rites before setting sail. The ladies on the committee don’t understand any of this, of course. They have no idea what they’re doing to the children. I, on the other hand, do know, and it weighs on my conscience.”
    The reverend nodded. “No less on mine. That’s why I gave the ladies an ultimatum. The home belongs
de facto
to the parish, that is, nominally at least, I’m in charge. The ladies, therefore, need my agreement in order to send the children off. I have made my agreement contingent on their sending a guardian along. And that’s where you enter, Helen. I’ve suggested to the ladies that we let one of the young women the Christchurch parish sent for as brides-to-be travel along at the parish’s expense. In exchange, the young woman would take responsibility for the girls. A corresponding donation has already been taken up, so the necessary amount is assured.”
    Mrs. Thorne and the reverend looked at Helen, silently begging for approval. Helen thought of Robert Greenwood, who’d had a similar idea only the week before, and wondered from whom this donation had come. But ultimately it didn’t matter. There were more pressing questions.
    “And I should act as guardian?” she asked unsurely. “But I…like I said, I haven’t heard back from Mr. O’Keefe…”
    “It’s no different for the other women, Helen,” Mrs. Thorne remarked. “Besides, most of them are still green behind the ears, hardly older than the charges themselves. Only one of them, who supposedly worked as a nanny, has any experience with children. Which makes me wonder what good family employs someone who is barely twenty as a nanny! In general, many of these girls seem to me to be of…well, rather doubtful reputation. Lady Brennan has not yet decided whether she will give all of the applicants her blessing. You, on the other hand, are entirely dependable. I have no reservations about entrusting the children to you. And the risk is small. Even if you don’t end up coming to a marriage agreement, a young woman with your qualifications will find a new position right away.”
    “You’ll be taken in by my colleague in Christchurch when you arrive,” Reverend Thorne explained. “I’m sure he can help you find employment in a good house in case Mr. O’Keefe turns out not to be such the…er, man of honor he claims to be. You just need to decide for yourself, Helen. Do you really want to leave England, or was the idea of emigrating just a product of your imagination? If you agree now, you’ll leave from London on the eighteenth of July for Christchurch on the
Dublin
. If not…well, then this conversation never took place.”
    Helen breathed in deeply.
    “Yes,” she said.

4
    G wyneira did not react half as badly to Gerald Warden’s unusual proposal as her father had feared. After her mother and sister had responded with fits of hysteria to the mere suggestion of marrying the girl off in New Zealand—they seemed unsure whether the poor alliance with the bourgeois Lucas or the exile to the wilderness represented the worse fate—Terence Silkham had anticipated tears and lamentations from his youngest daughter. But, if anything, the girl had seemed rather entertained when Lord Terence revealed the outcome of the fateful card game.
    “Of course, you don’t have to go,” he said, in an effort to lessen the magnitude of his news. “Something like this is not the least bit customary. But I promised Mr. Warden to at least weigh his offer.”
    “Well, well, Father,” Gwyneira chided, threatening him with her finger while she smiled at him. “Gambling debts are honor debts. You can’t get out of it that easily. At the very least, you’d have to offer him my value in