serenity and satisfaction, and Julia well knew that on
this ground Maria could not be happy but at her expense.
With hasty indignation, therefore, and a tremulous voice,
she said to him, "You do not seem afraid of not
keeping your countenance when I come in with a basket
of provisions--though one might have supposed--but it
is only as Agatha that I was to be so overpowering!"
She stopped--Henry Crawford looked rather foolish,
and as if he did not know what to say. Tom Bertram
began again--

"Miss Crawford must be Amelia. She will be an excellent Amelia."

"Do not be afraid of _my_ wanting the character,"
cried Julia, with angry quickness: "I am _not_ to be Agatha,
and I am sure I will do nothing else; and as to Amelia,
it is of all parts in the world the most disgusting to me.
I quite detest her. An odious, little, pert, unnatural,
impudent girl. I have always protested against comedy,
and this is comedy in its worst form." And so saying,
she walked hastily out of the room, leaving awkward feelings
to more than one, but exciting small compassion in any
except Fanny, who had been a quiet auditor of the whole,
and who could not think of her as under the agitations of
_jealousy_ without great pity.

A short silence succeeded her leaving them; but her brother
soon returned to business and Lovers' Vows, and was
eagerly looking over the play, with Mr. Yates's help,
to ascertain what scenery would be necessary--while Maria