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"Perhaps not."
"And yet, is it not worth a passing thought? Mr. and Mrs. Casswell are
rich--we are poor. Which do you think the happiest?"
"Oh, we are happiest, a thousand times," said Edward warmly. "I
would not exchange places with him, were he worth a million for every
thousand."
"Nor I with his wife," returned Edith. "So money, in their case, does
not give happiness. Now look at William Everhart and his wife. When
we were married they occupied two rooms, at a low rent, as we now do.
Their income was just what ours has been. Well, they enjoyed life. We
visited them frequently, and they often called to see us. But for a
little ambition on the part of both to make some show, they would have
possessed a large share of that inestimable blessing, contentment.
After a while, William's salary was raised to one thousand dollars.
Then they must have a whole house to themselves, as if their two nice
rooms were not as large and comfortable, and as well suited to their
real wants as before. They must, also, have showy furniture for their
friends to look at. Were they any happier for this change?--for this
marked improvement in their external condition? We have talked this
over before, Edward. No, they were not. In fact, they were not so
comfortable. With added means had come a whole train of clamorous
wants, that even the doubled salary could not supply."
"Everhart gets fifteen hundred a year, now," remarked Claire.
"That will account, then," said Edith, smiling, "for Emma's unsettled
state of mind when I last saw her. New wants have been created; and
they have disturbed the former tranquillity."
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