“I wish, with all my heart, that you were going with us; but I’m afraid Mr. Culpepper is too deeply rooted in English soil to bear transplanting to a foreign clime.” “Yes, I suppose so,” said Jane, with a little sigh. “Only I should so like to travel: I should so like a six months’ voyage to somewhere.” “The voyage is just what I dread, only it would not do to tell Lionel so.” “You might have fixed on some place a little nearer than New Zealand, some place within four or five days’ journey, where one could run over for a little holiday now and then and see you. It is very ridiculous of you to go so far away.” “When you say that, dear, you forget certain peculiarities of the case. If Lionel were to settle down at any place where there would be the least possibility of his being recognized, it would necessitate a perpetual disguise. This, in a little while, would become intolerable. He must go to a place where there will be no need for him to stain his face, or dye his hair, and where he can go about freely, and without fear of detection.” “I can quite understand what an immense relief it must be to you to get away from this neighbourhood, with all its painful associations—to hide yourself in some remote valley where no shadow of the past can darken your door; but it seems to me that you need not go quite so far away in order to do that.” “It will be all for the best, dear, depend upon it.” “No; I cannot see it. If you had only gone to America, now! No one would recognize Mr. Dering there, and it would not be too far away for me to pay you a visit once every now and again. In fact, I should make it a condition of marrying Tom, that he gave me a promise to that effect. But, New Zealand!”