Agnes Grey | Page 7

mushroom poplar-groves, my heart failed me, and I wished it were a mile or two
farther off. For the first time in my life I must stand alone: there was no retreating now. I
must enter that house, and introduce myself among its strange inhabitants. But how was it
to be done? True, I was near nineteen; but, thanks to my retired life and the protecting
care of my mother and sister, I well knew that many a girl of fifteen, or under, was gifted
with a more womanly address, and greater ease and self-possession, than I was. Yet, if
Mrs. Bloomfield were a kind, motherly woman, I might do very well, after all; and the
children, of course, I should soon be at ease with them--and Mr. Bloomfield, I hoped, I
should have but little to do with.
'Be calm, be calm, whatever happens,' I said within myself; and truly I kept this
resolution so well, and was so fully occupied in steadying my nerves and stifling the
rebellious flutter of my heart, that when I was admitted into the hall and ushered into the
presence of Mrs. Bloomfield, I almost forgot to answer her polite salutation; and it
afterwards struck me, that the little I did say was spoken in the tone of one half-dead or
half-asleep. The lady, too, was somewhat chilly in her manner, as I discovered when I
had time to reflect. She was a tall, spare, stately woman, with thick black hair, cold grey
eyes, and extremely sallow complexion.
With due politeness, however, she showed me my bedroom, and left me there to take a
little refreshment. I was somewhat dismayed at my appearance on looking in the glass:
the cold wind had swelled and reddened my hands, uncurled and entangled my hair, and
dyed my face of a pale purple; add to this my collar was horridly crumpled, my frock
splashed with mud, my feet clad in stout new boots, and as the trunks were not brought
up, there was no remedy; so having smoothed my hair as well as I could, and repeatedly
twitched my obdurate collar, I proceeded to clomp down the two flights of stairs,
philosophizing as I went; and with some difficulty found my way into the room where
Mrs. Bloomfield awaited me.
She led me into the dining-room, where the family luncheon had been laid out. Some
beefsteaks and half-cold potatoes were set before me; and while I dined upon these, she
sat opposite, watching me (as I thought) and endeavouring to sustain something like a
conversation--consisting chiefly of a succession of commonplace remarks, expressed
with frigid formality: but this might be more my fault than hers, for I really could NOT
converse. In fact, my attention was almost wholly absorbed in my dinner: not from
ravenous appetite, but from distress at the toughness of the beefsteaks, and the numbness
of my hands, almost palsied by their five-hours' exposure to the bitter wind. I would
gladly have eaten the potatoes and let the meat alone, but having got a large piece of the
latter on to my plate, I could not be so impolite as to leave it; so, after many awkward and
unsuccessful attempts to cut it with the knife, or tear it with the fork, or pull it asunder
between them, sensible that the awful lady was a spectator to the whole transaction, I at
last desperately grasped the knife and fork in my fists, like a child of two years old, and
fell to work with all the little strength I possessed. But this needed some apology- -with a
feeble attempt at a laugh, I said, 'My hands are so benumbed with the cold that I can
scarcely handle my knife and fork.'
'I daresay you would find it cold,' replied she with a cool, immutable gravity that did not
serve to reassure me.
When the ceremony was concluded, she led me into the sitting-room again, where she
rang and sent for the children.

'You will find them not very far advanced in their attainments,' said she, 'for I have had
so little time to attend to their education myself, and we have thought them too young for
a governess till now; but I think they are clever children, and very apt to learn, especially
the little boy; he is, I think, the flower of the flock--a generous, noble-spirited boy, one to
be led, but not driven, and remarkable for always speaking the truth. He seems to scorn
deception' (this was good news). 'His sister Mary Ann will require watching,' continued
she, 'but she is a very good girl upon the whole; though I wish her to be kept out of the
nursery as much as possible, as she is now almost six years old, and