ired a single particle more of
enterprise or calculation, it would have been beyond his powers, and the
heir might have yet labored under the difficulties which distressed his
more brilliant, but less prudent parent.

The baronet was warmly attached to his wife; and as she was a woman of
many valuable and no obnoxious qualities, civil and attentive by habit to
all around her, and perfectly disinterested in her attachments to her own
family, nothing in nature could partake more of perfection in the eyes of
her husband and children than the conduct of this beloved relative. Yet
Lady Moseley had her failings, however, although few were disposed to view
her errors with that severity which truth and a just discrimination of
character render necessary. Her union had been one of love, and for a
time it had been objected to by the friends of her husband, on the score
of fortune; but constancy and perseverance prevailed, and the protracted
and inconsequent opposition of his parents had left no other effects than
an aversion in the children to the exercise of parental authority, in
marrying their own descendents: an aversion which, though common to both
the worthy baronet and his wife, was somewhat different in its two
subjects. In the husband it was quiescent; but in the wife, it was
slightly shaded with the female _esprit de corps_, of having her daughters
comfortably established, and that in due season. Lady Moseley was
religious, but hardly pious; she was charitable in deeds, but not always
in opinions; her intentions were pure, but neither her prejudices nor her
reasoning powers suffered her to be at all times consistent. Still few
knew her that did not love her, and none were ever heard to say aught
against her breeding, her morals, or her disposition.

The sister of Sir Edward had been married, early in life, to an officer in
the army, who, spending much of his time abroad on service, had left her a
prey to that solicitude to which she was necessarily a prey by her
attachment to her husband. To find relief from this perpetual and
life-wearing anxiety, an invaluable friend had pointed out the only true
remedy of which her case admitted, a research into her own heart, and the
employments of active benevolence. The death of her husband, who lost his
life in battle, caused her to withdraw in a great measure from the world,
and gave time and inducement for reflections, which led to impressions on
religion that were sufficiently