Mrs. Tremain Page #3

"Mrs. Tremain" by Robert Barr is a captivating novella that explores themes of love, loss, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in a Victorian context, the story follows the titular character, Mrs. Tremain, as she navigates her life amid societal expectations and personal desires. Through rich characterization and a nuanced portrayal of emotional struggles, Barr delves into the intricacies of her experiences, ultimately revealing deeper insights into the human condition. With a blend of wit and poignancy, the novella offers a thought-provoking look at the challenges faced by women in a restrictive society.

• Travel

								

“Aren’t you interfering now?” he said.

“You are quite right, I am. Good night.” And I went up the stairway.
Howard shouted after me, but I did not see him again that night.

Next day we were nearing Queenstown, and, as I had letters to write, I
saw nothing of young Howard till the evening. I found him unreasonably
contrite for what he had said to me the night before; and when I told
him he had merely spoken the truth, and was quite justified in doing
so, he seemed more miserable than ever.

“Come,” he said, “let us have a walk on the deck.”

It was between nine and ten o’clock; and when we got out on the deck, I
said to him, “Without wishing to interfere any further—”

“Now, don’t say that,” he cried; “it is cruel.”

“Well, I merely wanted to know where your two charges are.”

“I don’t know,” he answered, in a husky whisper; “they are not in the
usual corner to-night, and I don’t know where they are.”

“She is probably with her husband,” I suggested.

“No, he is down in the saloon reading.”

As young Howard was somewhat prone to get emphatic when he began to
talk upon this subject, and as there was always a danger of other
people overhearing what he said, I drew him away to a more secluded
part of the ship. On this particular boat there was a wheelhouse aft
unused, and generally filled up with old steamer chairs. A narrow
passage led around this at the curving stern, seldom used by
promenaders because of certain obstructions which, in the dark, were
apt to trip a person up. Chains or something went from this wheelhouse
to the sides of the ship, and, being covered up by boxes of plank, made
this part of the deck hard to travel on in the dark. As we went around
this narrow passage young Howard was the first to stop. He clutched my
arm, but said nothing. There in the dark was the faint outline of two
persons, with their backs towards us, leaning over the stern of the
ship. The vibration at this part of the boat, from the throbbing of the
screw, made it impossible for them to hear our approach. They doubtless
thought they were completely in the dark; but they were deluded in that
idea, because the turmoil of the water left a brilliant phosphorescent
belt far in the rear of the ship, and against this bright, faintly
yellow luminous track their forms were distinctly outlined. It needed
no second glance to see that the two were Glendenning and Mrs. Tremain.
Her head rested on his shoulder, and his arm was around her waist.

“Let us get back,” I said in a whisper; and, somewhat to my surprise,
young Howard turned back with me. I felt his hand trembling on my arm,
but he said nothing. Before we could say a word to each other a sadden
and unexpected complication arose. We met Captain Tremain, with a shawl
on his arm, coming towards us.

“Good evening, captain,” I said; “have a turn on the deck with us?”

“No, thanks,” he replied, “I am looking for my wife. I want to give her
this shawl to put over her shoulders. She is not accustomed to such
chilly weather as we are now running into, and I am afraid she may take
cold.”

All this time young Howard stood looking at him with a startled
expression in his eyes, and his lower jaw dropped. I was afraid Captain
Tremain would see him, and wonder what was the matter with the boy. I
tried to bring him to himself by stamping my heel—not too gently—on his
toes, but he turned his face in the semi-darkness toward me without
changing its expression. The one idea that had taken possession of my
mind was that Captain Tremain must not be allowed to go further aft
than he was, and I tried by looks and nudges to tell young Howard to go
back and give her warning, but the boy seemed to be completely dazed
with the unexpected horror of the situation. To have this calm, stern,
unsuspecting man come suddenly upon what we had seen at the stern of
the boat was simply appalling to think of. He certainly would have
killed Glendenning where he stood, and very likely Mrs. Tremain as
well. As Captain Tremain essayed to pass us I collected my wits as well
as I could, and said—

“Oh, by the way, captain, I wanted to speak to you about Mexico. Do
you—do you—think that it is a good—er—place for investment?”

“Well,” said Captain Tremain, pausing, “I am not so sure about that.
You see, their Government is so very unstable. The country itself is
rich enough in mineral wealth, if that is what you mean.” All the while
Howard stood there with his mouth agape, and I felt like shoving my
fist into it.

“Here, Howard,” I said, “I want to speak to Captain Tremain for a
moment. Take this shawl and find Mrs. Tremain, and give it to her.”
Saying this, I took the shawl from the captain’s arm and threw it at
young Howard. He appeared then to realise, for the first time, what was
expected of him, and, giving me a grateful look, disappeared toward the
stern.

“What I wanted more particularly to know about Mexico,” I said to the
captain, who made no objection to this move, “was whether there would
be any more—well, likely to have trouble—whether we would have trouble
with them in a military way, you know—that’s more in your line.”

“Oh, I think not,” said the captain. “Of course, on the boundary where
we were, there was always more or less trouble with border ruffians,
sometimes on one side of the line and sometimes on the other. There is
a possibility always that complications may arise from that sort of
thing. Our officers might go over into the Mexican territory and seize
a desperado there, or they might come over into ours. Still, I don’t
think anything will happen to bring on a war such as we had once or
twice with Mexico.”

At this moment I was appalled to hear Glendenning’s voice ring out
above the noise of the vibration of the vessel.

“What do you mean by that, you scoundrel,” he said.

“Hallo,” exclaimed the captain, “there seems to be a row back there. I
wonder what it is?”

“Oh, nothing serious, I imagine. Probably some steerage passengers have
come on the cabin deck. I heard them having a row with some one to-day
on that score. Let’s walk away from it.”

The captain took my arm, and we strolled along the deck while he gave
me a great deal of valuable information about Mexico and the state of
things along the border line, which I regret to say I cannot remember a
word of. The impressions of a man who has been on the spot are always
worth hearing, but my ears were strained to catch a repetition of the
angry cry I had heard, or the continuation of the quarrel which it
certainly seemed to be the beginning of. As we came up the deck again
we met young Howard with the shawl still on his arm and Mrs. Tremain
walking beside him. She was laughing in a somewhat hysterical manner,
and his face was as pale as ashes with a drawn look about the corners
of his lips, but the captain’s eyes were only on his wife.

“Why don’t you put on the shawl, my dear?” he said to her
affectionately. “The shawl?” she answered. Then, seeing it on young
Howard’s arm, she laughed, and said, “He never offered it to me.”
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