Read Online In the Land of the Long White Cloud by Sarah Lark - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Lark
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my dear reader, that you share but a part of these wishes and desires? Then write me! I will lap up each word of yours like water in the desert, and already, for the courtesy of reading my words, you’ve received a permanent place in my heart
.
Your most obedient servant
,
Howard O’Keefe
After finishing the letter, Helen had tears in her eyes. How wonderfully this man could write! How precisely he expressed those feelings that stirred so often in Helen. She too felt the lack of a center in her life. She too wanted to feel at home somewhere, to have her own family, and a home that she not only governed for someone else but that was part of who she was. True, she hadn’t exactly been picturing a farm, more like a house in town. But life was full of little compromises, especially when undertaking such adventures. And in the Mortimers’ country house, she had felt completely at home. It had been especially pleasant when Mrs. Mortimer had come smiling into the salon in the morning with a basket of fresh eggs in one hand and a bouquet of bright flowers from the garden in the other. Helen, who usually got up early, had helped her set the breakfast table and had relished the fresh butter and creamy milk from the Mortimers’ own cows. Mr. Mortimer had made a good impression too when he returned from his morning ride across the fields, fresh and hungry from the cool air, bronzed by the sun. Helen imagined her Howard to be just as vibrant and attractive. Her Howard. The sound of it! The feel of it! Helen almost danced across her little room. Would shebe able to take the rocking chair with her to her new homeland? It would be exciting to someday tell her children about this moment when their father’s words had first found her and immediately touched the innermost parts of her.
Dearest Mr. O’Keefe
,
I read the lines you wrote today with a warm and joyful heart. I too set out only haltingly on this path to our acquaintance, but only God knows why He leads two people who live worlds apart to each other. Upon reading your letter, however, I felt that the miles that separate us seemed to melt away. Can it be that we’ve already met before innumerable times in our dreams? Or is it merely common experience and longing that make us seem so much closer? I am no longer a young girl either. I was forced quite early on, by my mother’s death, to take on responsibility. Hence I know the ins and outs of managing a large household. I raised my siblings myself and now have a 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
.
Your most obedient servant
,
Howard O’Keefe
After finishing the letter, Helen had tears in her eyes. How wonderfully this man could write! How precisely he expressed those feelings that stirred so often in Helen. She too felt the lack of a center in her life. She too wanted to feel at home somewhere, to have her own family, and a home that she not only governed for someone else but that was part of who she was. True, she hadn’t exactly been picturing a farm, more like a house in town. But life was full of little compromises, especially when undertaking such adventures. And in the Mortimers’ country house, she had felt completely at home. It had been especially pleasant when Mrs. Mortimer had come smiling into the salon in the morning with a basket of fresh eggs in one hand and a bouquet of bright flowers from the garden in the other. Helen, who usually got up early, had helped her set the breakfast table and had relished the fresh butter and creamy milk from the Mortimers’ own cows. Mr. Mortimer had made a good impression too when he returned from his morning ride across the fields, fresh and hungry from the cool air, bronzed by the sun. Helen imagined her Howard to be just as vibrant and attractive. Her Howard. The sound of it! The feel of it! Helen almost danced across her little room. Would shebe able to take the rocking chair with her to her new homeland? It would be exciting to someday tell her children about this moment when their father’s words had first found her and immediately touched the innermost parts of her.
Dearest Mr. O’Keefe
,
I read the lines you wrote today with a warm and joyful heart. I too set out only haltingly on this path to our acquaintance, but only God knows why He leads two people who live worlds apart to each other. Upon reading your letter, however, I felt that the miles that separate us seemed to melt away. Can it be that we’ve already met before innumerable times in our dreams? Or is it merely common experience and longing that make us seem so much closer? I am no longer a young girl either. I was forced quite early on, by my mother’s death, to take on responsibility. Hence I know the ins and outs of managing a large household. I raised my siblings myself and now have a 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
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