your word as my bond."

Legard, overjoyed, and scarcely trusting his senses, gave the promise.

"Sleep then, to-night, in hope and assurance of the morrow," said the
Englishman: "let this event be an omen to you, that while there is a
future there is no despair. One word more,--I do not want your thanks!
it is easy to be generous at the expense of justice. Perhaps I have been
so now. This sum, which is to save your life--a life you so little
value--might have blessed fifty human beings,--better men than either the
giver or receiver. What is given to error may perhaps be a wrong to
virtue. When you would ask others to support a career of blind and
selfish extravagance, pause and think over the breadless lips this wasted
gold would have fed! the joyless hearts it would have comforted! You
talk of repaying me: if the occasion offer, do so; if not--if we never
meet again, and you have it in your power, pay it for me to the Poor!
And now, farewell."

"Stay,--give me the name of my preserver! Mine is--"

"Hush! what matter names? This is a sacrifice we have both made to
honour. You will sooner recover your self-esteem (and without
self-esteem there is neither faith nor honour), when you think that your
family, your connections, are spared all association with your own error;
that I may hear them spoken of, that I may mix with them without fancying
that they owe me gratitude."

"Your own name then?" said Legard, deeply penetrated with the delicate
generosity of his benefactor.