er, 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