Read Online Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë - Free Book Online Page B

one, while he and his lady took their luncheon at the same table. His conduct there did not greatly raise him in my estimation. He was a man of ordinary stature—rather below than above, and rather thin than stout, apparently between thirty and forty years of age: he had a large mouth, pale, dingy complexion, milky blue eyes, and hair the colour of a hempen cord. There was a roast leg of mutton before him: he helped Mrs. Bloomfield, the children, and me, desiring me to cut up the children’s meat, then after twisting about the mutton in various directions, and eyeing it from different points, he pronounced it not fit to be eaten, and called for the cold beef.
    “What is the matter with the mutton, my dear?” asked his mate.
    “It is quite overdone. Don’t you taste, Mrs. Bloomfield, that all the goodness is roasted out of it? And can’t you see that all that nice, red gravy is completely dried away?”
    “Well, I think the beef will suit you.”
    The beef was set before him, and he began to carve, but with the most rueful expressions of discontent.
    “What is the matter with the beef, Mr. Bloomfield? I’m sure I thought it was very nice.”
    “And so it was very nice. A nicer joint could not be; but it is quite spoiled,” replied he, dolefully.
    “How so?”
    “How so! Why, don’t you see how it is cut? Dear—dear! it is quite shocking!”
    “They must have cut it wrong in the kitchen then, for I’m sure I carved it quite properly here, yesterday.”
    “No doubt they cut it wrong in the kitchen—the savages! Dear—dear! Did ever anyone see such a fine piece of beef so completely ruined? But remember that, in future, when a decent dish leaves this table, they shall not touch it in the kitchen. j Remember that, Mrs. Bloomfield!”
    Notwithstanding the ruinous state of the beef, the gentleman managed to cut himself some delicate slices, part of which he ate in silence. When he next spoke it was, in a less querulous tone, to ask what there was for dinner.
    “Turkey and grouse,” was the concise reply.
    “And what besides?”
    “Fish.”
    “What kind of fish?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know?” cried he, looking solemnly up from his plate, and suspending his knife and fork in astonishment.
    “No. I told the cook to get some fish—I did not particularise what.”
    “Well, that beats every thing! A lady professes to keep house, and doesn’t even know what fish is for dinner! professes to order fish, and doesn’t specify what!”
    “Perhaps, Mr. Bloomfield, you will order dinner yourself in future.”
    Nothing more was said; and I was very glad to get out of the room with my pupils; for I never felt so ashamed and uncomfortable in my life, for anything that was not my own fault.
    In the afternoon we applied to lessons again; then went out again; then had tea in the school-room; then I dressed Mary Ann for dessert; and when she and her brother were gone down to the dining-room, I took the opportunity of beginning a letter to my dear friends at home; but the children came up before I had half completed it.
    At seven, I had to put Mary Ann to bed; then I played with Tom till eight, when he too went, and I finished my letter, and unpacked my clothes, which I had hitherto found no opportunity for doing, and, finally, went to bed myself.
    But this is a very favourable specimen of a day’s proceedings.
    My task of instruction and surveillance, instead of becoming easier as my charges and I got better accustomed to each other, became more arduous as their characters unfolded. The name of governess, I soon found, was a mere mockery as applied to me; my pupils had no more notion of obedience than a wild, unbroken colt. The habitual fear of their father’s peevish temper, and the dread of the punishments he was wont to inflict when irritated, kept them generally within bounds in his immediate presence. The girls, too, had some fear of their mother’s anger; and the boy might occasionally be