Such were the counsels by which Mrs. Norris assisted to form her nieces’ minds; and it is not very wonderful that, with all their promising talents and early information, they should be entirely deficient in the less common acquirements of self-knowledge, generosity, and humility.  In everything but disposition, they were admirably taught.  Sir Thomas did not know what was wanting, because, though a truly anxious father, he was not outwardly affectionate, and the reserve of his manner repressed all the flow of their spirits before him.

PRIVATE THEATRICALS

From ‘Mansfield Park’

Fanny looked on and listened, not unamused to observe the selfishness which, more or less disguised, seemed to govern them all, and wondering how it would end.

Three of the characters were now cast, besides Mr. Rushworth, who was always answered for by Maria as willing to do anything; when Julia, meaning, like her sister, to be Agatha, began to be scrupulous on Miss Crawford’s account.

“This is not behaving well by the absent,” said she.  “Here are not women enough.  Amelia and Agatha may do for Maria and me, but here is nothing for your sister, Mr. Crawford.”

Mr. Crawford desired that might not be thought of; he was very sure his sister had no wish of acting but as she might be useful, and that she would not allow herself to be considered in the present case.  But this was immediately opposed by Tom Bertram, who asserted the part of Amelia to be in every respect the property of Miss Crawford, if she would accept it.  “It falls as naturally as necessarily to her,” said he, “as Agatha does to one or other of my sisters.  It can be no sacrifice on their side, for it is highly comic.”

A short silence followed.  Each sister looked anxious; for each felt the best claim to Agatha, and was hoping to have it pressed on her by the rest.  Henry Crawford, who meanwhile had taken up the play, and with seeming carelessness was turning over the first act, soon settled the business.

“I must entreat Miss Julia Bertram,” said he, “not to engage in the part of Agatha, or it will be the ruin of all my solemnity.  You must not, indeed you must not [turning to her].  I could not stand your countenance dressed up in woe and paleness.  The many laughs we have had together would infallibly come across me, and Frederick and his knapsack would be obliged to run away.”

Pleasantly, courteously, it was spoken; but the manner was lost in the matter to Julia’s feelings.  She saw a glance at Maria, which confirmed the injury to herself:  it was a scheme, a trick; she was slighted, Maria was preferred; the smile of triumph which Maria was trying to suppress showed how well it was understood:  and before Julia could command herself enough to speak, her brother gave his weight against her too, by saying, “Oh yes!  Maria must be Agatha.  Maria will be the best Agatha.