"Kindness!" echoed Mrs. Copley. "Poor kindness, I call it, to take a man, or a boy, or any one else, away from his natural home. Haven't you found it so? Don't you wish you were back there again?"
"Well," said Rupert with a little slowness, and a twinkle in his eye at the same time,—"I just don't; if I'm to tell the truth."
"It is incomprehensible to me!" returned the lady. "Why, what do you find here, that you would not have had at home?"
"England, for one thing," said the young man with a smile.
"England! Of course you would not have had England at home; but isn't America better?"
"I think it is."
"Then what do you gain by exchanging one for the other?" said Mrs. Copley with heat.
"That exchange ain't made yet. I calculate to go back, when I have got all I want on this side."
"And what do you want? Money, I suppose. Everything is for money, with everybody. Country, and family, and the ease of life, and the pleasure of being together—nothing matters, if only one may get money! I don't know but savages have the best of it. At least they don't live for money."
Mrs. Copley forgot at the moment that she was wishing her daughter to marry for money.