Amos Huntingdon | Page 4

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 Sutterby in his presence, while the very name of the poor boy Amos was scarcely ever spoken by him except in a tone of bitterness; and even