Amos Huntingdon | Page 4

far as the squire knew; and
though Mr Huntingdon's estate and fortune were large, yet his
open-house way of living left him little to spare at the year's end, so
that Mr Sutterby's money would be very acceptable, should he see fit to
leave it to his godson. He therefore represented this view of the matter
to his wife in private; but she would not hear of such a name as Amos
being given to her son.
"Better lose a thousand fortunes, and quarrel with every friend they had
or might have, rather than bring such an odious combination as `Amos
Huntingdon' into the family genealogy." The squire's temper, however,
was roused by this opposition, and he wound up the only sharp
altercation which had occurred between himself and his wife since their
marriage by a vehement asseveration that "Amos" and nothing but
"Amos" should be the Christian name of his first-born son.
Sorely against her will, his wife was obliged to yield; for though Mr

Huntingdon had his own secret regrets that he had gone so far, yet he
was one of those who, wanting that true greatness of character which
leads its possessor to change a hastily adopted decision for one
resulting from a maturer judgment, abide by what they have said
simply because they have said it, and thus mistake obstinacy for a
right-minded firmness. "Amos," therefore, was the name given,
considerably to the satisfaction of Mr Sutterby, who made his godson
handsome presents from time to time, and often spoke of him playfully
as "my godson and heir." His mother, however, never forgave his name,
and it was clear to all that the poor child himself had but a cold place in
that mother's heart.
What wonder, then, that the boy grew up shy and reserved, dreading the
sound of his own name, and shrinking within himself; for seldom was
he gladdened by a father's or mother's smile. Added to this, he was not
naturally of a lively temperament, and so never exhibited those
boisterous spirits which might have won for him in a measure his
father's heart. So he was brought up with all due care, as was suitable
for an eldest son, and was sent to a public school as soon as he could be
safely trusted from home. Indeed, all his wants were supplied but one,
and that one was what his heart craved with a painful intensity-- love.
They gave him no real love, at least none that came like sunshine to his
spirit. Such love as they did measure out to him was rather like the
feeble sunlight on a cloudy winter day, that seems to chill as it scarcely
struggles through the mists that almost quench it.
Such was Amos Huntingdon in his early childhood. But the cloud grew
darker over him when he had reached the age of ten. It was then that
the news came one morning that Mr Sutterby had died, leaving no will,
for indeed he had nothing to bequeath except a few small personal
effects, which went to some distant cousin. The fact was that, having an
eye to his own personal comfort and well-doing, he had sunk a nice
little fortune, which he had inherited from a maiden aunt, in a
handsome annuity. Thus he was able to travel and spend his money like
a man of wealth, and was very glad of the opportunity of making Mr
Huntingdon's acquaintance, which gave him access to a house where he
could spend a portion of every year amidst bountiful hospitality and in

good society. He had no deliberate intention of deceiving Mr
Huntingdon about his son, but having once given him the impression
that he would leave that son a fortune, he did not trouble himself to
undeceive his friend on the subject; but being a man in whom
self-interest spoke with a louder voice than conscience, he was not
sorry to find the conviction strongly rooted in the squire's mind that
Amos was to be his godfather's heir, as this conviction evidently added
to the warmth of the welcome with which he was received at the
Manor-house whenever he chose to take up his quarters there. And as
he had always carefully avoided making any definite statement of his
intentions, and had only thrown out hints from time to time, which
might be either serious or playful, he was content that a state of things
should continue which brought considerable satisfaction to himself, and
could not deprive the squire or his son of anything to which either had a
legal claim. The disgust, however, of Mr Huntingdon, when he found
out how he had, as he considered it, been taken advantage of and
imposed upon, was intense in the extreme. No one dared refer to Mr