In the Land of the Long White Cloud

you George?”
    The man nodded and smiled.
    “Proper name Tonganui!” he then added, pointing at himself when Gwyneira still looked dismayed. “Means ‘Son of Sea God.’”
    It didn’t sound very Christian, but Gwyneira didn’t find it unpronounceable either. She determined not to rename her own servants.

    “Where exactly did the Maori learn English?” she asked Gerald as they continued their journey the next day. The Beasleys had protested when they left, but understood that after his long absence Gerald wanted to make sure everything was in order at Kiward Station. They didn’t have much to say about Lucas—other than the usual praise. It appeared he had not left the farm during Gerald’s absence. At least he hadn’t honored the Beasleys with a visit.
    Gerald seemed to be in a bad mood that morning. The two men had stayed up and partaken generously of the whiskey, while Gwyneira, mentioning the long ride that lay behind and ahead, had said good night early. Mrs. Beasley’s monologue about roses had bored her, and she had known since they arrived in Christchurch that Lucas was a cultivated man and gifted composer who, what’s more, always had the latest works of Mr. Bulwer-Lytton and similarly great authors to lend.
    “Oh, the Maori…” Gerald took up the question unenthusiastically. “You never know what they understand and what they don’t. They always pick some up from their employers, and the women pass it on to their children. They want to be like us. Which is helpful.”
    “But they don’t go to school?” Gwyneira inquired.
    Gerald laughed.
    “Who do you think would teach them? Most of the colonist mothers are happy when they can manage to teach their own brood a little civilization. To be sure, there are a few missions, and the Bible has been translated into Maori. But if you feel moved to teach a few black brats the Queen’s English—I won’t stand in your way.”
    Gwyneira did not really feel so moved, but maybe that would provide Helen with a new field to work in. She smiled at the thought of her friend, who was even now still sitting on her hands at the Baldwins’ home in Christchurch. Howard O’Keefe had not shown any sign of appearing, but Vicar Chester had assured her every day that this was nothing to worry about. There was no way of being certain that news of Helen’s arrival had even reached him yet, and then of course he would have to be free to come and get her.
    “What do you mean by ‘free to come’?” Helen had asked. “Does he not have any farmhands?”
    The vicar had not responded to the question. Gwyneira hoped there wasn’t an unpleasant surprise awaiting her friend.

    Gwyneira had been quite happy with her new homeland from the start. Now, as they approached the mountains, the landscape became hillier and more varied but it remained just as lovely and well suited to sheep. Around noon Gerald happily revealed that they had crossed the property line of Kiward Station and that from now on they would be moving across his own land. To Gwyneira the landscape was a garden of Eden: an abundance of grass; good, clean drinking water for the animals; and a tree or even a shady copse here and there.
    “As I said, it hasn’t all been cleared yet,” Gerald Warden explained as he let his gaze wander over the landscape. “But we could leave part of the forest. Some of it is rare wood, and it would be such a shame to burn it all. It could even be worth something someday. We might be able to use the river as a flume. In the meantime, though, we’llleave the trees alone. Look, there are the first sheep! I wonder what the critters are doing here though. They should have long since been driven up into the hills.”
    Gerald frowned. Gwyneira knew him well enough by now to realize that he was contemplating how to punish whomever was responsible. Normally he had no compunctions about expressing his thoughts to his listeners at length, but today he kept it to himself. Could it be because Lucas was the one responsible? Did Gerald not want to disparage his son in front of his fiancée—right before their first meeting?
    All the while, Gwyneira could barely contain her excitement. She wanted to see the house, of course, but more than anything she wanted to meet her future husband. During the last few miles, she pictured him coming out to greet her, laughing, from a stately farmhouse like the Beasleys’. Meanwhile, they were already passing some of Kiward Station’s