"Contentment, dear," said she, in a gentle, subdued, yet tender voice,
"is great gain. We have enough, and more than enough, to make us
happy. Natural riches have no power to fill the heart's most yearning
affections; and how often do they take to themselves wings and fly
away."
"Enough, dear!" replied Edward Claire, smiling. "O no, not enough, by
any means. Five hundred dollars a year is but a meagre sum. What does
it procure for us? Only these two rooms and the commonest necessaries
of life. We cannot even afford the constant service of a domestic."
"Why, Edward! what has come over you? Have I complained?"
"No, dear, no. But think you I have no ambition to see my wife take a
higher place than this?"
"Ambition! Do not again use that word," said Edith, very earnestly.
"What has love to do with ambition? What have we to do with the world
and its higher places? Will a more elegant home secure for us a
purer joy than we have known and still know in this our Eden? Oh,
my husband! do not let such thoughts come into your mind. Let us be
content with what God in his wisdom provides, assured that it is best
for us. In envying the good of another, we destroy our own good. There
is a higher wealth than gold, Edward; and it supplies higher wants.
There are riches without wings; they lie scattered about our feet;
we may fill our coffers, if we will.
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