The String of Pearls; Or, The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance.
Ragg saw her home again to Milford Lane, and no doubt all the road from
this colonel's house to there did not want for a prolific subject of
conversation. How happy Minna felt when she put up to Heaven her simple
prayer that night, previous to seeking repose.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
JOHANNA MAKES A NEW CONFIDANT.
We left the spectacle-maker and his family rather in a state of
confusion. Big Ben the Beef-eater had had his revenge upon both Mrs.
Oakley and the Saint, and it was a revenge that really did them no harm,
so that in that respect it had turned out well. The Rev. Josiah Lupin
did not return to the house, but Mrs. Oakley, in a terrible state of
prostration from the effects of the sickness that had come over her,
staggered again into the parlour. She looked at Mr. Oakley, as she
said--
"If you were half a man you would take the life of that villain for
treating me in the way he has; I have no doubt but he meant to take the
life of the pious Mr. Lupin, and so add him to the list of martyrs."
"My dear," said the spectacle-maker, "if Mr. Lupin intrudes himself into
my house, and any friend of mine turns him out, I am very much obliged
to him."
"Perhaps you would be equally obliged to this monster, whom you call
your friend, if he would turn me out?"
Mr. Oakley shook his head as he said--
"My dear, there are some burthens which can be got rid of, and some that
must be borne."
"Come--come, Mother Oakley," said Ben. "Don't bear malice. You played me
a trick the last time I came here, and now I have played you one. That's
all. It wasn't in human nature not to do it, so don't bear malice."
Mrs. Oakley, if she had been in a condition to do so, no doubt would
have carried on the war with Big Ben, but she decidedly was not, and
after a shudder or two, which looked as though she thought the toad was
beginning again to oppress her, she rose to leave the room.
"Mother," said Johanna, "it was not a real toad."
"But you are!" said Mrs. Oakley, sharply. "You have no more feeling for
your mother than as if she were a brickbat."
Feeling now that at all events she had had the last word at somebody,
Mrs. Oakley made a precipitate retreat, and sought the consolations and
solitude of her own chamber. Mr. Oakley was about to make some speech,
which he prefaced with a sigh, when some one coming into the shop called
his attention, and he left Johanna and Big Ben the Beef-eater together
in the parlour. The moment they were alone, Ben began shaking his head
and making some very mysterious signs, which completely mystified
Johanna. Indeed she began to be afraid that Ben's intellects were not
quite right, although an ordinary observer might have very well supposed
there was something the matter with his nether garments, for he pointed
to them repeatedly, and shook his head at Johanna.
"What is the matter, cousin?" she said.
"Oh, dear!--oh, dear!--oh--oh--oh!"
"Are you ill?"
"No, but I only wonder as you ain't. Didn't I see you in Fleet-street
with these here on?--oh!--oh!--not these here exactly, but another pair.
These would be a trifle too large for you. Oh, dear-a-me! my heart bled
all for to see such a young and delicate little puss as you a taking to
wear the thingamies so soon."
Johanna now began to understand what Ben meant, namely, that he had seen
her in Fleet-street disguised in male attire, with her young friend
Arabella Wilmot.
"Oh, Ben," she said, "you must not think ill of me on that account."
"But--but," said Ben, rather hesitatingly, as if he were only putting a
doubtful proposition, "wasn't it rather unusual?"
"Yes, Ben, but there were reasons why I put on such garments. Surely it
was better to do so than--than--to--"
"Than to go without any?" said Ben.
"No--no, I did not say that--I mean it was better for me to forget a
little of that maiden delicacy which--which--than to let him--"
She burst into tears.
"Holloa!" cried Ben, as he immediately folded her in an immense embrace,
that went very near to smothering her. "Don't you cry, and you may wear
what you like, and I'll come and help you to put 'em on. Come, come,
there's a nice little dear, don't you cry. Lord bless you! you know how
fond I am of you, and always was since you was a little tottering thing,
and couldn't say my name right. Don't you cry. You shall wear 'em as
often as you like, and I'll go behind you in the street, and if anybody
only so much as says half a word to you, I'll be down upon 'em. Fetch
'em now and put 'em on, my dear."
Johanna must have laughed if her life had depended upon her gravity, for
all that Ben said upon the subject was uttered in the sheer simplicity
of a kind heart, and well she knew that in his rough way he doated on
her, and thought there was not such another being in the whole world as
she. And yet he looked upon her as a child, and the imperceptible flight
of time had made no difference in Ben's ideas concerning Johanna. She
was still to him the sweet little child he had so often dandled upon his
knee, and brought fruit and sweetmeats to, when such things were great
treasures. After a few moments he let her go, and Johanna was able to
draw breath again.
"Ben," she said, "I will tell you all."
"All what?"
"How I came to put on--the--the--"
"Oh, these here--very good. Cut on, and let's know all the particulars.
I suppose you felt cold, my dear, eh?"
"No--no."
"No? Well then, tell it quick, for I was always a mortal bad hand at
guessing. Your father is fitting an old gentleman with a pair of
spectacles, and he seems hard to please, so we shall have lots of time.
Go on."
"Your good opinion is of such moment to me," said Johanna, "for I have
very few to love me; now that you have seen me in such a disguise, I
should feel unhappy if I did not tell why I wore it."
Ben lent the most attentive ear to what she said, and then Johanna
briefly and distinctly told him all the story of Mark Ingestrie, and how
he had, as she thought, mysteriously disappeared at the barber's shop in
Fleet-street. It will be seen that she still clung to the idea that the
Thornhill of the arrived ship was no other than her lover. Ben heard her
all out with the most fixed attention. His mouth and eyes gradually
opened wider and wider as she proceeded, partly from wonder at the whole
affair, and partly from intense admiration at the way in which she told
it, which he thought was better than any book he had ever read. When she
had concluded, Ben again folded her in his arms, and she had to struggle
terribly to get away.
"My dear child," he said, "you are a prodigy. Why, there's not an animal
as ever I knew comes near you; and so the poor fellow had his throat cut
in the barber's for his string of pearls?"
"I fear he was murdered."
"Not a doubt of it."
"You really think so, Ben?"
The tone of agony with which this question was put to him, and the look
of utter desolation which accompanied it, alarmed Ben, and he hastily
said--
"Come, come, I didn't mean that. No doubt something has happened; but it
will be all right some day or another, you may depend. Oh, dear!--oh,
dear! The idea of your going to watch the barber with some boy's clothes
on!"
"Tell me what I can do, for my heart and brain are nearly distracted by
my sufferings?"
Ben looked all round the room, and then up at the ceiling, as though he
had a hope and expectation of finding some startling suggestion written
legibly before his eyes somewhere. At length he spoke, saying--
"I tell you what, Johanna, my dear, whatever you do, don't you put on
them things again. You leave it all to me."
"But what will you do?--what can you do, Ben?"
"Well, I don't know exactly; but I'll let you know when it's done."
"But do not run into any danger for my sake."
"Danger? danger? I should like to see the barber that would interfere
with me. No, my dear, no; I'm too well used to all sorts of animals for
that. I'll see what I can do, and let you know all about it to-morrow,
and in the meantime, you stick to the petticoats, and don't be putting
on those thingamies again. You leave it to me--will you now?"
"Until to-morrow?"
"Yes, I'll be here to-morrow about this time, my dear, and I hope I
shall have some news for you. Well, I declare, it's just like a book, it
is. You are quite a prodigy."
Ben would have treated Johanna to another of the suffocating embraces,
but she contrived to elude him; and, as by this time the old gentleman
in the shop was suited with a pair of spectacles, Mr. Oakley returned to
the parlour. Johanna placed her finger upon her lips as an indication to
Ben that he was to say nothing to her father of what had passed between
them, for, although Mr. Oakley knew generally the story of his
daughter's attachment to Mark Ingestrie, as the reader is aware, he knew
nothing of the expedition to Fleet-street in disguise. Ben, feeling that
he had now an important secret to keep, shut his mouth hard, for fear it
should escape, and looked so mysterious, that any one more sharp-sighted
than the old spectacle-maker must have guessed that something very
unusual was the matter. Mr. Oakley, however, had no suspicions; but as
this state of things was very irksome to Ben, he soon rose to take his
leave.
"I shall look in again to-morrow," he said, "Cousin Oakley."
"We shall be glad to see you," said Mr. Oakley.
"Yes," added Johanna, who felt it incumbent upon her to say something,
"we shall be very glad to see you indeed."
"Ah," said her father, "you and Ben were always great friends."
"And we always shall be," said Ben. Then he thought that he would add
something wonderfully clever, so as completely to ward off all
suspicions of Oakley's, if he had any, and he added--"She ain't like
some young creatures that think nothing of putting on what they
shouldn't. Oh dear, no--not she. Bye, bye. I'll come to-morrow."
Ben was quite pleased when he got out of the house, for among the things
that he (Ben) found it difficult to do, was to keep a secret.
"Well," he said, when he was fairly in the open air, "if I ain't rather
nonplussed at all this. What shall I do?"
This was a question much easier asked than answered, as Ben found; but,
however, he felt an irresistible desire to go and have a look at the
shop of Sweeney Todd.
"I can easily," he said, "go to Fleet-street, and then, if I find myself
late, I can take a boat at Blackfriars for the Tower-stairs, and after
all get in to dinner comfortably enough."
With this conclusion, Ben set off at a good pace down Snow-hill, and was
soon at the beginning of Fleet-street. He walked on until he came to
Sweeney Todd's shop, and there he paused. Now we have previously
remarked that there was one great peculiarity in the shop-window of
Todd, and that was that the articles in it were so well arranged that
some one always was in the way of obtaining any view from the outside
into the establishment. Todd was therefore secure against the dangers
arising from peeping and prying. Big Ben placed himself close to the
window, and made an attempt, by flattening his nose against the panes of
glass, to peep in; but it was all in vain. He could not obtain the
smallest glimpse into the inside.
"Confound it," he cried, "what a cunning sort of animal this is to be
sure--he won't let one peep through the bars of his cage, that he
won't."
Now Sweeney Todd became aware, by the additional darkness of his shop,
that some one must be quite close to the window, and therefore, availing
himself of a peep-hole that he had expressly for the purpose of
reconnoitering the passing world without, he took a long look at Big
Ben. It was some moments before Ben caught sight of a great eye in the