In the Land of the Long White Cloud

wrote me enough to send them. After all, he wanted to touch my heart, you know. So, he just turned to Vicar Chester.”
    “Vicar Chester wrote the letters?” asked Helen, who didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Yet a few things suddenly made sense: the lovely fine handwriting typical of a cleric; the well-selected choice of words; the lack of practical information that Gwyneira had observed. And, of course, the vicar’s obvious interest in the success of the romance.
    “I wouldn’t have thought they’d dare do it again,” Mrs. Lorimer said. “Especially since I gave both of them a thorough dressing down when I learned of the whole thing. Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. O’Keefe. Your Howard should have had the chance to tell you himself. But I’m going to deal with this Vicar Chester. I’ve certainly got a few things to say to him!”
    Christine Lorimer leaped resolutely into action, while Helen remained behind, contemplative. Who was the man she had just married? Had Chester really only helped him put his feelings intowords, or had Howard not really cared how he lured his future bride to the ends of the earth?
    She would soon find out, though she wasn’t entirely certain that she wanted to know the truth.

    The wagon had been bouncing over muddy paths for more than eight hours. Helen felt the journey would never end. Moreover, the infinite expanse of the landscape depressed her. They hadn’t passed a house for more than an hour. Besides, the vehicle in which Howard transported his young wife, her worldly goods, and his own purchases was without a doubt the most uncomfortable form of transportation that Helen had ever traveled in. Her back hurt from the uncushioned seat, and the constant misting rain gave her headaches. Howard didn’t do anything to make the trip any easier on her. He hadn’t said a word to her for at least a half hour, at most muttering a command to the brown horse and gray mule that pulled the wagon.
    Helen, therefore, had all the time in the world to dwell on her thoughts, which were not exactly joyful. The debacle over the letter was the least of her troubles. Howard and the vicar had begged for forgiveness for their little ruse the day before, admitting that it had been a venial sin. However, they had brought the matter to a successful conclusion: Howard had his wife and Helen her husband. What was infinitely more troubling was the news that Helen had heard from Elizabeth the night before. Mrs. Baldwin had said nothing—perhaps because she was ashamed or because she didn’t want to unsettle Helen—but Belinda Baldwin had not been able to hold her tongue and had revealed to Elizabeth that little Laurie had run away from the Lavenders on her second day with them. She had been found quickly and sharply rebuked, but she had tried it again the next evening. After the second time, she had been beaten. After her third attempt, she had been locked in the broom closet.
    “Only getting bread and water!” Belinda declared dramatically.
    Helen had spoken to the reverend about it that morning before their departure; naturally, he had told her he would see that right was done by Laurie. But would he keep his word when Helen was not there to exhort him to do his duty?
    Then there had been the departure with Howard. Helen had spent her last night chastely in her bed at the Baldwins’. To bring her man into the parsonage was out of the question, and Howard couldn’t or wouldn’t pay for a night in the hotel.
    “We have our whole lives together,” he had declared, kissing Helen awkwardly on the cheek. “Not everything needs to happen tonight.”
    Helen had been relieved but also a little disappointed. She would have preferred the amenities of a hotel room to the blanket bed in the covered wagon that likely awaited her during this trip. She had laid her good nightshirt at the top of her travel bag, but where she was supposed to dress and undress decently was a mystery to her. In addition to all that, the mist had made her clothing—and doubtless the blankets, too—cold and damp. Whatever awaited her that night, these conditions certainly would not contribute to its success.

    However, Helen was spared an improvised camp in the covered wagon. Shortly before dark, when she was completely exhausted and just wished the clattering of the carriage would finally cease, Howard stopped before a humble farmhouse.
    “We can stay here with this family tonight,” he told Helen, helping her down from