under strict restraint; his own two eldest sons had given their tutors
constant trouble and annoyance, and of the younger one he fancied he had
heard few complaints because the boy was of no particular importance. It
had never once occurred to him that he should like his grandson; he had
sent for the little Cedric because his pride impelled him to do so. If
the boy was to take his place in the future, he did not wish his name
to be made ridiculous by descending to an uneducated boor. He had been
convinced the boy would be a clownish fellow if he were brought up in
America. He had no feeling of affection for the lad; his only hope was
that he should find him decently well-featured, and with a respectable
share of sense; he had been so disappointed in his other sons, and had
been made so furious by Captain Errol's American marriage, that he had
never once thought that anything creditable could come of it. When the
footman had announced Lord Fauntleroy, he had almost dreaded to look at
the boy lest he should find him all that he had feared. It was because
of this feeling that he had ordered that the child should be sent to
him alone. His pride could not endure that others should see his
disappointment if he was to be disappointed. His proud, stubborn old
heart therefore had leaped within him when the boy came forward with his
graceful, easy carriage, his fearless hand on the big dog's neck. Even
in the moments when he had hoped the most, the Earl had never hoped that
his grandson would look like that. It seemed almost too good to be true
that this should be the boy he had dreaded to see--the child of the
woman he so disliked--this little fellow with so much beauty and such
a brave, childish grace! The Earl's stern composure was quite shaken by
this startling surprise.

And then their talk began; and he was still more curiously moved, and
more and more puzzled. In the first place, he was so used to seeing
people rather afraid and embarrassed before him, that he had expected