The String of Pearls; Or, The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance.

assure you. In fact, I have as much right to take the rank of general as of major, but the natural modesty of a military man, and of myself in particular, steps in and says 'A major be it.'" "Then you have property?" "Property--property? I believe you, I have. Lots!" The major dealt his forehead a slap as he spoke, which might be taken as an indication that that was where his property was situated, and that it consisted of his ignorance and impudence--very good trading capitals in this world for, strange to say, the parties solely possessing such qualifications get on much better than education, probity, and genius can push forward their unhappy victims. Mrs. Lovett was silent for some minutes, during which the major saluted her again. Then, suddenly rising, she said-- "I will give you an answer to-morrow. Go away now. We shall be soon interrupted. If I do consent to be yours, there will be something to do before we leave England." "By Jove, only mention it to me, and it is as good as done. By-the-bye, there is something to do before I leave here, and that is, my charmer, to pay you for the pies." "Oh, no--no." "Yes, yes--my honour. Touch my honour, even in regard of a pie, and touch my life.--I put two guineas in one end of my purse, to pay my glover in the Strand, and at the other end are some small coins--where the deuce--can--I--have--put--it." The major made an affectation of feeling in all his pockets for his lost purse, and then, with a serio-comic look, he said-- "By Jove, some rascal has picked my pocket." "Never mind me," said Mrs. Lovett, "I don't want payment for the pies." "Well, but--the--the glover. Poor devil, and I promised him his money this morning. For a soldier and a man of honour to break his word is death. What shall I do?--Mrs. L., could you lend me a couple of guineas until I have the happiness of seeing you again?" "Certainly, major, certainly I can." The gallant son of Mars pocketed the coins, and after saluting Mrs. Lovett some half score of times--and she, the beast, liked it--he left the shop and went chuckling into the Strand, where in a few minutes he was in a pot-house, from whence he emerged not until he had liquidated one of the guineas. Was Mrs. Lovett taken in by the major? Did she believe his title, or his wealth, and his common honesty? Did she believe in the story of the purse and of the two guineas that were to be paid to the poor glover because he wanted them? No--no--certainly not. But for all that, she admired the major.--He was her _beau ideal_ of a fine man! That was sufficient. Moreover, being what he was--a rogue, cheat, and common swindler--she could exercise, so she thought, a species of control over him which no decent man would put up with, and so in her own mind she had determined to marry the major and fly; but as she said--"There was a little something to be done first." Did that relate to the disposal of Todd? We shall see. If she calculated upon the major putting Sweeney Todd out of the way, she sadly miscalculated; but the wisest heads will blunder. Compared to Todd, the major was indeed a poor creature; but Mrs. Lovett, in the stern courage of her own intellect, could not conceive the possibility of the great, puffy, bloated, fierce Major Bounce being as arrant a coward as ever was kicked. He was so, though, for all that. After he had left her, Mrs. Lovett sat for a long time in a profound reverie, and as it happened that no one came into the shop; the current of her evil thoughts was uninterrupted. "I have sufficient," she said; "and before it gets too late, I will leave this mode of life. Why did I--tempted by the fiend Todd--undertake it, but that I might make wealth by it, and so assume a position that my heart panted for. I will not delay until it is too late, or I may lose the enjoyment that I have sacrificed so much to find the means of getting. I live in this world but for the gratification of the senses, and finding that I could not gratify them without abundant means, I fell upon this plan. I--ah--that is he--" Suddenly the swaggering companion, the redoubtable Major Bounce, rushed past the shop-window, without so much as looking in for a single moment, and made his way towards Carey Street. Mrs. Lovett started up and made her way into the front shop. Major Bounce was out of sight, but from Fleet Street came a poor, draggled, miserable looking woman, making vain efforts at a speed which her weakness prevented her from keeping up.--She called aloud-- "Stop! stop!--only a moment, Flukes! Only a moment, John. Stop!--stop!" Her strength failed her, and she fell exhausted upon Mrs. Lovett's door-step. "Heartless!--heartless ever!" she cried. "May the judgment of the Almighty reach him--may he suffer--yes--may he suffer only what I have suffered." "Who and what are you?" said Mrs. Lovett. "Poor, and therefore everything that is abject and despicable in London." "What a truth," said Mrs. Lovett. "What a truth that is. Who would not do even as I do to avoid poverty in a widowed life!--It is too horrible. Amid savages it is nothing, but here it is indeed criminality of the deepest dye. Whom did you call after, woman?" "My husband." "Husband. Describe him." "A sottish-looking man, with moustache. Once seen, he is not easily mistaken--ruffian and villain are stamped by nature upon his face." Mrs. Lovett winced a little. "Come in," she said, "I will relieve you for the present. Come in." The woman by a great effort succeeded in rising and crossing the threshold. Mrs. Lovett gave her a seat, and having presented her with a glass of cordial and a pie, she waited until the poor creature should be sufficiently recovered to speak composedly, and then she said to her with perfect calmness, as though she was by no manner of means personally interested in the matter-- "Now tell me--Is the man with moustache and the braided coat, who passed hastily up Bell Yard a few moments only before you, really your husband?" "Yes, madam, that is Flukes--" "Who?" "Flukes, madam." "And pray who and what is Flukes?" "He was a tailor, and he might have been as respectable a man, and earned as honest and good a living as any one in the trade, but a love of idleness and dissipation undid him." "Flukes--a tailor?" "Yes, madam; and now that I am utterly destitute, and in want of the common necessaries of life, if I chance to meet him in the streets and ask him for the merest trifle to relieve my necessities, he flies from me in the manner he has done to-day." "Indeed!" "Yes, madam. If we were in a lonely place he would strike me, so that I should, from the injury he would do me, be unable to follow him, but that in the public streets he dare-not do, for he fears some man would interfere and put a stop to his cruelty." "There, my good woman," said Mrs. Lovett, "there are five shillings for you. Go now, for I expect to be busy very shortly." With a profusion of thanks, that while they lasted were quite stunning, poor Mrs. Flukes left the pie-shop and hobbled homewards. When she was gone the colour went and came several times upon the face of Mrs. Lovett, and then she repeated to herself--"Flukes--a tailor!" "Pies ready?" said a voice at the door. "Not quite." "How long, mum; we want half a dozen of the muttons to-day." "In about ten minutes." "Thank you, I'll look in again." "Flukes--a tailor? Indeed!--Flukes--a tailor? Well I ought to have expected something like this. What a glorious thing it is really to care for no one but oneself after all. I shall lose my faith in--in--fine men." CHAPTER XXXVI. TOBIAS'S MOTHER AWAKENS OLD RECOLLECTIONS. Poor Tobias still remains upon his bed of sickness. The number of hours at the expiration of which the medical man had expected him to recover were nearly gone. In Colonel Jeffery's parlour three persons, besides himself, were assembled. These three were his friend the captain, Sir Richard Blunt, and Mrs. Ragg. The lady was sitting with a not over clean handkerchief at her eyes, and keeping up a perpetual motion with her knee, as though she were nursing some fractious baby, and Mrs. Ragg had been used of late to go out as a monthly nurse occasionally, which, perhaps, accounted for this little peculiarity. "Now, madam," said the colonel, "you quite understand, I hope, that you are not to mention to any living soul the fact of your son Tobias being with me." "Oh, dear me, no, sir. Who should I mention it to?" "That we can't tell," interrupted the captain, "you are simply desired not to tell it." "I'm sure I don't see anybody once in a week, sir." "Good God! woman," cried the colonel, "does that mean that when you do see any one you will tell it?" "Lord love you, sir, it's few people as comes to see you when you are down in the world. I'm sure it's seldom enough a soul taps at my door with a 'Mrs. Ragg, how are you?'" "Now was there ever such an incorrigible woman as this?" "If you were to talk to her for a month," said Sir Robert Blunt, "you would not get a direct answer from her. Allow me to try something else--Mrs. Ragg." "Yes, sir--humbly at your service, sir." "If you tell any one that Tobias is here, or indeed anywhere within your knowledge, I will apprehend you about a certain candlestick." "Goodness gracious, deliver us." "Do you understand that, Mrs. Ragg? You keep silence about Tobias, and I keep silence about the candlestick. You speak about Tobias, and I speak about the candlestick." Mrs. Ragg shook her head and let fall a torrent of tears, which the magistrate took as sufficient evidence that she did understand him and would act accordingly, so he added-- "Shall we all proceed up stairs? for a great deal will depend upon the boy's first impression when he awakens--and in this case we should not lose a chance." In pursuance of this sound advice they all proceeded to poor Tobias's bed-room, and there he lay in that profound repose which the powerful opiate administered to him had had the effect of producing. It did not seem as though he had moved head or foot since they had left him. His face was very pale, and when Mrs. Ragg saw him she burst into tears, exclaiming-- "He is dead--he is dead!" "No such thing, madam," said Colonel Jeffery. "He only sleeps." "But, oh deary me, what makes him look so old and so strange now? He was bad enough when I saw him last, poor fellow, but not like this." "He has received ill-usage from someone, and that is precisely what we want to find out. If you can get from him the particulars of what he has suffered, we will take care those who have made him suffer shall not escape." "Bless you, gentlemen, what's the use of that if my poor boy is killed?" There was a good home truth in these words from Mrs. Ragg, although, upon the score of general social policy, they might well be answered. An argument with Mrs. Ragg, however, upon such a subject was not very a-propos. The colonel made her sit down by Tobias's bed-side, and he was then upon the point of remarking to his friend, the captain, that it would be as well, since so many hours had passed, to send for the medical man, when that personage made his appearance. "Has he awakened?" he asked. "No--not yet." "Oh, I see you have a nurse." "It is his mother. We hope that she, by talking to him familiarly, may produce a good effect, and possibly rid him of that bewilderment of intellect under which he now labours. What think you, sir?" "That it is a good thought. Let us darken the room as much as possible, as twilight will be most grateful to him upon awakening, which he must do shortly."