In a worldly point of view, he must marry as soon as practicable; otherwise the contingency which would give him the three millions, absolutely, could not occur. There was certainly a worldly inducement for him to make some lady Mrs. Eugene Hungerford. He did not like it. Why should he marry, if he did not wish to do so? Why should he be bribed to enter into the holy state of matrimony? He could not very clearly define to himself his feelings on this delicate point; but there was a certain sense of compulsion which fretted and annoyed him, and which tempted him to be obstinate even against his moral, social, and pecuniary interests. To be compelled to marry in order to obtain the three millions, went exactly across the grain of his sensitive and high-strung nature. If the question had been between the three millions and taking to his bosom one whom he did not love, one to whom he was indifferent, he would not have hesitated an instant in making a decision, even if poverty and single blessedness had been the alternative. But Eugene Hungerford was doomed to be rich in spite of himself. No obstinacy or hardship could deprive him of his entire wealth--always supposing that John Hungerford’s will was not a vision. He was to receive the income of the three millions for seven years; and then, if the conditions were not complied with, he was to have the sixth part of the whole sum. Let him be as obdurate as he pleased, he could hardly help being a _millionnaire_; let him be denied the blessed boon of a little John Hungerford in the future, and then even a fortune of which he had never been extravagant enough to dream, would still be coming to him. His position would not be a very hard one, though he should choose to be ugly and uncompromising. With this view he came back to the original question, Why should he marry if he did not wish to marry? Why should he call his first born son John if it did not suit him so to call him? But in this connection there came up before him, unbidden, the image of a beautiful girl, upon whom he had long looked with admiration, and to whose virtues and gentleness his heart had yielded homage. She was all that he could ask for as the partner of his joys and his sorrows in the pilgrimage of life, though never before had he ventured to think of her as his wife. Though she was poor like himself, though her family relations were overshadowed by griefs and sorrows, she was so fair and so good, that crowds of suitors thronged her path. She could choose from a score, if not a hundred, and perhaps her choice was already made.