She is a Miss Jencks, Mr. Jerrolds, and of unexceptionable family: her great-uncle a bishop, her father a retired army officer. She has been governess to the family of the Governor-General of Canada, thus, as you see, enabling her to know just what would be required in American society (the maid told me that Mr. Bradley was most aristocratic and quite wealthy) and has always associated with the best people. She is plain, but refined, and unusually well educated, being in Paris now for special art study. She would be moderate in her charges, I am sure, and would take a real interest in young Mrs. Bradley, for she deeply enjoys forming character and manners and has always been considered most successful at it.
I wrote down the address of her pension and left it with the maid, telling her, so that Mr. Bradley would not think me too forward, that I was an old friend of your mother. Do, if you write to him, say a good word for Miss Jencks, for I am sure he will never regret engaging her.
Before I left, Mrs. Bradley sang for me, accompanying herself on the piano. Her voice is unusually fine, though she does not sing at all in the English way, but more like a professional opera singer. It was rather startling to me. Barbara Jencks could teach her a little more restraint, I think, to great advantage. But there is no doubt of the beauty of the organ. She is taking lessons of a famous teacher, and the maid says she had made the most wonderful progress in a short time. She is a very loving little creature (I call her little, though she is half a head taller than I!) but though she is so childish, I fancy she has a very strong will and a character of her own. She would have a great influence over anyone that was much with her, I think.
I am sending this letter in care of your mother's old bankers. I hope so much that I may hear that she is alive and well! I was never better myself. I enclose with this long letter a picture of my son. Like your mother, I have but one, and he is everything to me, as I daresay hers is.
I trust that you will not come to England without letting me see you at Bleeks, and remain, my dear Mr. Jerrolds,
Your mother's old friend,
Agatha Upgrove.
[From Roger's Diary]
Paris, Feb. 17, '8—
Weather fine and clear for a week. M. well and very happy. Her voice certainly comes on surprisingly. Mme. M——i very enthusiastic. Miss J. has persuaded her to learn to write. She makes great progress.