"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.