sion, and was left
pretty much to follow the bent of his own inclinations. His father knew
that there was no need to be anxious about him on the score of worldly
provision. He had seen well to his education, having sent him to a good
school, and in due time to the university, and, till he came of age, had
made him a sufficient allowance, which was now no longer needed, since
he had come into a small fortune at his majority, left him by his
mother's father; and, as he was heir to the entailed property, there was
no need for concern as to his future prospects, so no effort was made by
Mr Huntingdon to draw him out of his natural timidity and reserve, and
induce him to enter on any regular professional employment. Perhaps he
would take to travelling abroad some day, and that would enlarge his
mind and rouse him a bit. At present he really would make nothing of
law, physic, or divinity. He was sufficiently provided for, and would
turn out some day a useful and worthy man, no doubt; but he was never
meant to shine; he must leave that to Walter, who had got it naturally
in him. So thought and so sometimes said the squire; and poor Amos
pretty much agreed with this view of his father's; and Walter did so, of
course. The Manor-house therefore continued Amos's home till he should
choose to make another for himself.

But was he making a new home for himself? This was Walter's bewildering
thought as he cantered back, after his strange discovery of his brother
at the cottage. Was it really so? Had this shy, silent brother of his
actually taken to himself a wife unknown to any one, just as his poor
sister had married clandestinely? It might be so--and why not? Strange
people do strange things; and not only so, but Walter's conscience told
him that his brother might well have been excused for seeking love _out_
of his home, seeing that he got but little love _in_ it. And what about
the children? No doubt they were hers; he must have married a widow.
But what a poky place they were living in. She must have been poor, and
have inveigled Amos into marrying her, knowing that he was heir to
Flixworth Manor. Eh, what a disgrace! Such were Walter's thoughts as
he rode home from the scene of the strange encounter. But then, again,
he felt that this was nothing but conjecture after all. Why might not
Amos have just been doing a kind act to some poor cottager and her
children, whom he had learned to take an interest in? And