Amos Huntingdon | Page 3

he generally succeeded in silencing
an opponent, though, perhaps, more by the vehemence of his utterances
than by the cogency of his reasonings. He had a considerable
knowledge of field-sports and farming, rather less of literature, and less
still of character. Naturally, he had a high opinion of his own judgment,
in which opinion his dependants agreed with him before his face, but
differed from it behind his back. However, every one allowed that he
was a worthy man, a good landlord, a kind master, and a faithful friend.
A cloud, however, rested on his home.
He had married early, and had made, in the estimation of his friends
and of the county generally, an excellent choice of a wife in the person
of the eldest daughter of a neighbouring squire. The marriage was
apparently a very happy one; for the bride brought her husband a fair
face, a loving heart, and a good fortune, and entertained his friends with
due courtesy and cordiality. Moreover, she neither thwarted his tastes
nor squandered his money; while he, on his part, pursued his hunting,

shooting, and fishing, and his occasional magisterial duties, with due
consideration for his wife's domestic and social engagements, so that
their married life ran its course with as little friction or creaking as
could reasonably be expected. Then there came, in due time, the
children: first, a little girl, the object of her mother's passionate love,
and as dear to her father as the mistake of her not having been a boy
would allow her to be; then, after an interval of three years, came a son.
Now it so happened that at the time of this son's birth there was
residing as a guest at the Manor-house a middle-aged gentleman
reputed to be very rich. His name was Amos Sutterby. Mr Huntingdon
had met him abroad in the second year after his marriage when taking a
tour in Switzerland with his wife. Mr Sutterby was an old bachelor,
rather bluff in his manners, but evidently in easy circumstances. The
Huntingdons and himself had met on the Rigi, and the squire had taken
to him at once--in a great measure, it may be, because Mr Amos was a
good listener, and was very ready to ask Mr Huntingdon's opinion and
advice. So the squire gave his new acquaintance a general invitation to
Flixworth Manor, which the other cordially accepted: and in a little
while this acquaintanceship ripened into a steady friendship, though by
no means entirely to the satisfaction of Mrs Huntingdon. The result,
however, was that Mr Sutterby spent several weeks of every year, at the
close of the summer and beginning of the autumn, at the Manor, and
was the constant companion of the squire in his field-sports. Mr
Huntingdon had taken care to satisfy himself that his new friend,
though somewhat of an oddity, was a man of substance. True, he was
only living in bachelor style, and possessed no landed property; but
then he was able at all times to command ready money, and was
reputed by persons who had long known him to be the holder of a large
amount in the funds, an impression which seemed to be justified by
some elegant and costly presents of which Mr Sutterby begged his
friend's acceptance, as a token of his esteem and a mark of his
appreciation of that kind hospitality which, as he said, an eccentric old
bachelor living in lodgings in London was unable to return in kind.
Now it was, as has been said, during a visit of Mr Sutterby to Flixworth
Manor that a son and heir was given to the Huntingdons. Of course

there were great rejoicings, and no one seemed more glad than Mr
Sutterby; and when he was asked if he would stand godfather to the
child, he declared that nothing could please him more. So the
christening day was fixed, and now the question of a name for the child
was discussed, as father, mother, and their guest were sitting round the
fire after dinner on the first day of Mrs Huntingdon's appearing
downstairs.
"Of course he must be `Walter,' after yourself," said the lady.
"Unless you would like to call him `Amos,' after his godfather," said
the squire, laughing.
"Capital!" exclaimed Mr Sutterby, with a roar of merriment. "In that
case, of course, I shall feel it nothing less than my duty to make him
my heir."
Now these words of their guest, though spoken just on the spur of the
moment, and probably only in jest, made an impression on the mind of
Mr Huntingdon which he could not get rid of. Why should not his
friend have really meant what he said? He was rich, and an old
bachelor, and had no near relations, so