Edith was paying a visit to a friend one day, the daughter of a lawyer.  While conversing, the friend said—­

“Poor Jordan?  Have you heard of his misfortunes?”

“No!  What are they?” And Edith turned pale.  The friend was not aware of her interest in him.

“He was terribly cheated in some saw-mill property he bought,” she made answer, “and has since lost every dollar he had.  Yesterday he was sent to prison for debt which he is unable to pay.”

Edith heard no more, but, starting up, rushed from the house, and flew, rather than walked, home.  Her father was sitting in his private office when she entered with pale face and quivering lips.  Uttering an exclamation of surprise and alarm, he rose to his feet.  Edith fell against him, sobbing as she did so, while the tears found vent, and poured over her cheeks—­

“Oh, father!  He is in prison!”

“Who?  Jordan?”

“Yes,” was the maiden’s lowly-murmured reply.

“Good heavens!  Is it possible?”

With this exclamation, Mr. Page pushed his daughter from him, and leaving the house instantly, took his way to the office of the attorney who had conducted the suit in favour of Barnaby.

“I will go bail for this young man whom you have thrown into prison,” said he as soon as he met the lawyer.

“Very well, Mr. Page.  We will take you.  But you will have to pay the amount—­he has nothing.”

“I said I would go his bail,” returned the old man, impatiently.

In less than twenty minutes, Mr. Page entered the apartment where the young man was confined.  Jordan looked at him angrily.  He had just been thinking of the cruel neglect to warn him of his errors, of which Mr. Page had been guilty, and of the consequences, so disastrous and so humbling to himself.

“You are at liberty,” said the old gentleman, as he approached him and held out his hand.

Jordan stood like one half-stupified, for some moments.

“I have gone your security, my young friend,” Mr. Page added kindly.  “You are at liberty.”

“You my security!” returned Jordan, taking the offered hand, but not grasping it with a hearty pressure.  He felt as if he couldn’t do that.  “I am sorry you have done so,” said he, after a slight pause—­“I am not worth a dollar, and you will have my debt to pay.”

“It’s no time to talk about that now, Mr. Jordan.  I have gone your security, because I thought it right to do so.  Come home with me, and we will soon arrange all the rest.”

Jordan felt passive.  A child could have led him anywhere.  He did not refuse to go with Mr. Page.

Edith was sitting in the room where her father left her, when the opening of the door caused her to start.  There was an exclamation of delight and surprise; a movement forward, and then deep blushes threw a crimson veil over the maiden’s face, as she sank back in her chair and covered her face with her hands.  But the tears could not be hidden; they came trickling through her fingers.