Mrs. Jenkins is quite composed when she goes on board the Cuba, but she has been crying a good deal in the early hours of morning. She feels, now that the parting has come, how much Thornton Carey has cheered up and helped her through the anguish of her own bereavement; and now that all the excitement is over, her womanly heart has a touch of pity in it for the doomed wretch they have so effectually punished. But that is a weakness which she dares not betray to Thornton Carey, and which indeed she very soon gets over. Thornton has seen to all the comforts of her state room--for Mrs. Jenkins is travelling 'like a lady,' and is not in the least likely to disgrace the character, as she is reticent and unassuming always--and has added to them many a little 'surprise,' which will bring tears of gladness to her eyes when she shall find them out; and they are now standing side by side in the saloon, waiting, with the dreary mingling of dread and impatience which characterises all scenes of parting, for the signal 'for shore.' 'What shall I say for you to Mrs. Griswold?' she asks, with her hand in his. 'What shall you say? Have I not given you a thousand messages to Mrs. Griswold?' 'You have,' she answered, and yet she looked at him with such a look as might have shone in his mother's eyes, 'and I will not ask you for another. But I will say this to you as my parting words--and you must forgive me, Mr. Carey, and think me not too bold--see your year out in England, and then come home _for your reward!_' She pressed his hand, close, close, and clung to him, as a mother might cling to a son, for a minute or two, and he spoke no word, but stooped over her, and kissed her on the forehead; and then the signal was given 'for shore,' and they parted. -------------------- A NOTE BY THE AUTHOR. The story which I have here narrated is not original. I hasten to avow it, lest I should be detected, and obliged to confess the fact. It is one of those truths which look like fiction, only because they are so truly true. I am indebted for the 'heads' from which I have constructed it to Thornton S. Carey, the well-known merchant and _millionnaire_ of New York, U.S.A., whose acquaintance, together with his charming wife, formerly Mrs. Helen Griswold, and his if possible more charming stepdaughter, I had the privilege of forming, last fall, at Saratoga Springs. THE END. LONDON: ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. End of Project Gutenberg's The Impending Sword (Vol. 3 of 3), by Edmund Yates