He had allowed himself to be betrayed into no folly by an unguarded heart; no youthful indiscretion had marred his prospects.

He had made the most of himself.

Without wit, or depth, or any mental gift--without honesty of purpose or industry for good work--he had been for two years sitting member for Barchester; was the guest of Lord de Courcy; was engaged to the eldest daughter of one of the best commoners' families in England; and was, when he first began to think of Miss Dunstable, sanguine that his re-election to Parliament was secure.
When, however, at this period he began to calculate what his position in the world really was, it occurred to him that he was doing an ill-judged thing in marrying Miss Gresham.

Why marry a penniless girl--for Augusta's trifle of a fortune was not a penny in his estimation--while there was Miss Dunstable in the world to be won?
His own six or seven thousand a year, quite unembarrassed as it was, was certainly a great thing; but what might he not do if to that he could add the almost fabulous wealth of the great heiress?
Was she not here, put absolutely in his path?
Would it not be a wilful throwing away of a chance not to avail himself of it?
He must, to be sure, lose the de Courcy friendship; but if he should then have secured his Barchester seat for the usual term of parliamentary session, he might be able to spare that.

He would also, perhaps, encounter some Gresham enmity: this was a point on which he did think more than once: but what will not a man encounter for the sake of two hundred thousand pounds?
It was thus that Mr Moffat argued with himself, with much prudence, and brought himself to resolve that he would at any rate become a candidate for the great prize.