Henry's mind was still reeling from the information Andrews had shared, but he managed to compose himself enough to force a polite smile. "Thank you for telling me, Mr. Andrews. I appreciate your concern for my well-being." He wanted to escape the conversation as quickly as possible; he needed some time alone to process all of this.
As the day passed, Henry found himself in a daze, his thoughts constantly returning to what Andrews had told him. The revelation about his fiancé's past weighed heavily on his mind, but he tried his best to maintain a façade of calm and indifference in front of others. Finally, the day came to an end, and the sun began to dip below the horizon. The passengers slowly made their way to their cabins as the ship prepared for the night. Henry was one of the last to leave, his mind still filled with tumultuous thoughts. He made his way to his cabin, his steps heavy with the weight of the day's revelations. *He entered his cabin, closing the door behind him with a tired sigh. The room was quiet, and the only light came from the small oil lamps on the bedside table. Without bothering to undress, he flopped down onto the bed, his mind still a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions.**As Henry lay on the bed, his mind still swirling with thoughts about his fiancé's past and the revelations from Mr. Andrews, he found himself thinking less and less about her. His relationship with her had always felt cold and unfeeling, and he realized he didn't really care for her in the way a fiancé should But the thought of arriving in the United States soon also brought a sense of dread. Henry wasn't looking forward to the wedding and the life that would follow it But Henry tried to push those thoughts out of his mind for the moment. As he lay there, his thoughts shifted to the one person who had caught his attention earlier that day - Willam, that Young artist. He found himself wondering where the young man was at that moment, and what Willam was doing. Henry couldn't explain why, but his mind kept returning to the blonde,fluffy strands of hair and blue eyes. The memory of them stirred something within Henry, something Henry couldn't quite grasp. Henry tried to convince himself that it was just a passing fascination, a product of boredom and the monotony of the ship's life. But no matter how much henry tried to brush it off, the image of the artist remained in his mind, stubbornly refusing to go away.
The next morning,
Henry awakens to the sound of the ship's engines humming beneath him. He gets out of bed, the memories from the previous night still fresh in his mind. Henry gets dressed, then looks out the small window in his cabin. Instead of the familiar landscape of England, he sees the shores of the United States come into view.
The morning air is filled with a sense of anticipation as Henry exits his cabin and makes his way to the deck. The ship is bustling with activity as the other passengers start to wake up and begin packing their luggage.
A few people walk past him, their arms filled with bags and suitcases. A couple stands near the railing, looking out at the approaching shore in excitement. Few groups of girls gossiping. A man holding his son's hand and a luggage in other. Henry nods in acknowledgement as he passes them, trying to keep his mind distracted from the events of the previous night and the conflicting emotions it stirred within him.
As he turns a corner, he bumps into someone accidentally. He hears a "Sorry," the other person says. Henry looks up to see a man, around the same age as himself, who also looks a bit disoriented. They both apologize at the same time, and after a brief moment of surprise, they both continue on their way.