et-black
hairs a half-inch long. That picture, Esther, I fear no painter can
get. I marvel why I do not make the attempt."

"He is as bright as he is beautiful," she says.

"Yes, Esther, I have looked over this world. Childhood is always
beautiful--always sweet to me--but my boy is without equal, and nearly
everybody admits it."

"He is not yours, David."

The man looks inquiringly.

"I have as good a right to love him as you have. I do love him."

The man has been eloquent and self-forgetful. The woman has lost her
command. Tears are coming in her eyes. Shame is mantling her cheeks.
David Lockwin is startled.

George Harpwood passes in the distance with Esther's mother on his arm.

"Esther, you know me, with all my faults. I think we could be happy
together--we three--you and I and the boy. Will you marry me? Will
you be a mother to my little boy? He is lonesome while I am gone!"

The matter is settled. It has come by surprise. If David Lockwin had
foreseen it, he would have left the field open to Harpwood.

If Esther Wandrell had foreseen it, she would have shunned David
Lockwin. It is her dearest hope, and yet--

CHAPTER II

THE PEOPLE'S IDOL

If David Lockwin had planned to increase all his prospects, and if all
his plans had worked with precision, he could in nowise have pushed his
interests more powerfully than by marrying Esther Wandrell.

It might have been said of Lockwin that he was impractical; that he was
a dreamer. He had done singular things. He had not studied the ways
of public opinion.

But now, to solidify all his future--to take a secure place in society,
especially as his leanings toward politics are pronounced--to do these
things--this palliates and excuses the adoption of the golden-haired
boy.

Lockwin hears this from his friend, the doctor. Lockwin hears it from
the world. The more he hears it the less he likes it.

But people, particularly the doctor, are happy in Lockwin. His
popularity in the district is amazing. He will soon be deep in
politics. He has put Harpwood out of the combat--so the doctor says.

And David Lockwin, when he comes home at night, still sees his boy at
the window. What a noble affection is that love for this waif! Why
should such a thought seize the man as he sits in his library with wife
and son? Why should not David be tender and good to the woman who
loves him so well, and is so proud of her husband?

Tender and goo