The String of Pearls; Or, The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance.
"Yes, as usual. No news."
"I saw a boy at the door with a letter from a unicorn."
"From a what?"
"No, an addle--no. Let me see. A unicorn, waiting with a gentleman in
addle something. Easy does it. That ain't it, neither. Where is she?"
Guessing that it was some one with a communication from some friend to
her, Johanna had glided to the door, and got the letter from the boy.
She came with it to the parlour at once, and opened it. It was from
Colonel Jeffery, and ran as follows:--
"DEAR MISS OAKLEY,--If you will oblige me with another meeting in
the Temple Gardens this evening, at or about six, I have something
to tell you, although I am afraid nothing cheering.--Believe me to
be your sincere friend,
"JOHN JEFFERY."
She read it aloud to Ben, and then said--
"It is from the gentleman who, I told you, Ben, had interested himself
so much in the fate of poor Mark."
"Oh, ah," said Ben. "Easy does it. Tell him, if he'd like to see the
beasts at the Tower any time, only to ask for me."
"Yes, Ben."
"Well, my dear, I came by the barber's, and what do you think?"
Johanna shook her head.
"Guess again."
"Spare me, Ben. If you have any news for me, pray tell me. Do not keep
me in suspense."
Ben considered a little whether what he had to say was news or not; and
then taking rather an enlarged view of the word, he added--
"Yes, I have. Todd wants a pious boy."
"A what?"
"A pious boy. He's got a bill in his window to say that he wants a pious
boy. What do you think of that, now? Did you ever hear of such a
villain? Easy does it. And he came out, too, and wanted to 'polish me
off.'"
"Oh, Ben."
"Oh, Johanna. Take things easy."
"I mean that you should be very careful indeed not to go into that man's
shop. Promise me that you will never do so."
"All's right. Never be afeard, or you'd never tame the beastesses. If I
was only to go into that fellow's shop and fix a eye on him so--you'd
see!"
Ben fixed one of his eyes upon Johanna in such a manner, that she was
glad to escape from its glare, which was quite gratifying to him (Ben),
inasmuch as it was a kind of tacit acknowledgment of the extraordinary
powers of his vision.
"Easy does it," he said. "All's right. Do you mean to meet this
colonel?"
"Yes, Ben."
"All's right. Only take care of yourself down Fleet Street, that's all."
"I will, indeed."
"What do you say to taking me with you?"
"Where, Ben?"
"Why, where you go to meet the colonel, my dear."
"Personally, I should not entertain the smallest objection; but there is
no danger in the transaction. I know that Colonel Jeffery is a man of
honour, and that in meeting him upon such an occasion I am perfectly
safe."
"Good again," said Ben. "Easy does it. Hilloa! what's that in the shop?"
"Only my mother come home."
"Only? The deuce! Excuse me, my dear, I must be off. Somehow or another
your mother and I don't agree, you see, and ever since I had that
dreadful stomach ache one night here, it gives me a twinge to see her,
so I'll be off. But remember--easy does it."
CHAPTER LVIII.
THE GRAND CONSULTATION IN THE TEMPLE.
With this sage aphorism, Ben effected a hasty retreat from the
optician's house by the private door, so that he should not run the risk
of encountering Mrs. Oakley, who had made her appearance by the shop
way. When Johanna was alone, she once again read the little missive from
the colonel; and then, burying her face in her hands, she tried still to
think that it was possible he might have some good news to tell her. And
yet, if such had been the case, would he not have written it? Would he,
feeling for her as she knew he did, have kept her in a state of suspense
upon such a subject? Ah, no. He would rather have, in spite of all
obstacles, made his way into the shop, and called to her--"Johanna, Mark
Ingestrie lives," if he had really been in a position to say so much. As
these thoughts chased each other through the mind of the young girl, she
shed abundance of tears; and so absorbed was she in her grief, that she
was not aware that any one was present, until she felt a light touch
upon her shoulder, and upon starting round suddenly, she saw her friend
Arabella Wilmot standing close to her.
"Johanna?"
"Yes--yes, Arabella. I am here."
"Yes, dear Johanna. But you are weeping."
"I am--I am. To you these tears shall be no secret, Arabella. Alas!
alas! You, who know my heart, know how much I have to weep for. You can
bear with me. You are the only one in all the world whom I would
willingly let see these bitter--bitter tears."
At those words, Johanna wept afresh, and the heart of her young friend
was melted; but recovering sooner than Johanna, Arabella was able to
speak somewhat composedly to her, saying--
"Have you heard anything, Johanna, new?"
"No--no. Except that Mr. Jeffery wishes to see me again to tell me
something, and as he has not said in his letter what it is, I can guess
it is no good news."
"Nay; is not that assuming too much?"
"No--no. I know he would, if he had had any joyous intelligence for me,
have written it. He would feel of what a suspense even a few hours would
be upon such a subject. No, Arabella, I feel that what he has to say is
some terrible confirmation of my worst fears."
Arabella found it no easy task to combat this course of reasoning upon
the part of Johanna. She felt its force, and yet she felt at the same
time that it was somewhat incumbent upon her to resist it, and to make
at least the endeavour to ward off the deep depression that had seized
upon Johanna.
"Now listen to me," she said. "Perhaps what Colonel Jeffery has to say
to you is, after all, a something hopeful; but, at the same time, being
only hopeful, and nothing positive, he may have felt how difficult it
was to write it, without exciting undue effects in your mind, and so
prefers saying it, when he can accompany it by all the little collateral
circumstances which alone can give it its proper value."
There was something like a gleam of sunshine in this idea.
"Do you understand me, dear Johanna?"
"Yes--yes."
Johanna spoke more firmly than before. The last argument of her friend
had had all its weight with her, and had chased away many of the gloomy
thoughts that had but a few moments before possessed her. What a strange
compound is the human mind, and how singularly does it take its texture,
cameleon-like, from surrounding circumstances? But a few moments since,
and, to Johanna the brief epistle of the colonel was suggestive of
nothing but despair. How different now was its aspect? Arabella Wilmot
had, by a few simple words, placed it in a new light, so that it started
to the imagination of Johanna symbols of life.
"Ah! you are hoping now," said Arabella.
"I am--I am. Perhaps it is as you say, Arabella. I will think it is."
Miss Wilmot was now almost afraid that she had gone too far, and
conjured up too much hope; but she could not bear the idea of dashing
down again the fairy fabric of expectation she had moved in the bosom of
Johanna, and merely added--
"Well, Johanna, since you find that the letter will, at all events, bear
two interpretations, I am sure that, until you may be convinced it owns
to the worst, you will be as composed as possible."
"I will. And now, Arabella, will you, and can you accompany me this
evening to the Temple Gardens, to meet Colonel Jeffery?"
"Yes, Johanna. I both can and will, if such is your wish."
"It is, Arabella, much my wish, for I feel that if what our friend, the
colonel, has to say, should not be of a hopeful character, I should
never be able to repeat it to you, so as to have your opinion of it."
"Then we will go together. But we will not pass that dreadful man's
shop."
"Todd's?"
"Yes."
"Why not, Arabella? I feel, the moment that I leave this house, as
though some irresistible fascination dragged me there, and I think I
could no more pass down Fleet Street without directing my eyes to that
building, which perchance has proved fatal to poor Mark, than I could
fly."
"But--but, I shrink from that man recognising us again."
"We will pass upon the other side of the way, Arabella; but do not say
nay to me, for pass I must."
There was such a frantic sort of earnestness in the manner in which
Johanna urged this point, that Arabella no longer made any sort of
opposition to it, and the two young girls soon arranged a time of
meeting, when they would proceed together to the Temple Gardens, to give
Colonel Jeffery the meeting he so much desired. As nothing of a very
particular character occurred that day, we will at once follow Arabella
and Johanna upon the mission, premising that the hours have slipped away
which intervened between the time of Johanna receiving the note from
Colonel Jeffery, and the time when, if she kept the appointment with
him, it would be necessary for her to start from home to do so. Both the
young girls made as great alterations in their attire as they could upon
this occasion, so that they should not be strikingly recognisable again
by Todd; and then Arabella reminding Johanna that the bargain between
them was to pass upon the other side of the way, they both set off from
the old spectacle-maker's. As they neared Fleet Street, the agitation of
Johanna became more and more apparent, and Arabella was compelled to
counsel her to calmness, lest the passers-by should notice how much she
felt, from some cause to them unknown.
"My dear Johanna," she said. "Your arm trembles in mine. Oh! pray be
calm."
"I will--I will. Are we near?"
"Yes. Let us cross."
They reached the other side of the way from that on which Todd's shop
was situated, to the great relief of Arabella, who as yet knew not of
the placard that Todd had exhibited in his window, announcing the want
of a pious youth. The sight of the shop, however, seemed to bring that
circumstance to the mind of Johanna, and she told her young friend of it
at once.
"Oh! Johanna," said Arabella, "does it not seem as though--"
She paused, and Johanna looked enquiringly at her, saying--
"What would you say, Arabella? What would you say?"
"Nothing now, Johanna. Nothing now. A thought struck me, and when we
return from this meeting with your friend, the colonel, I will
communicate it to you. Oh! do not look opposite. Do not."
All such injunctions were thrown away upon Johanna. Look opposite she
did, and as she herself had truly said, it would have been quite
impossible for her to avoid the doing so, even if the greatest personal
risk had been risked in the action. But Todd's shop, to look at from the
other side of the way, presented no terrors. It simply presented the
idea of a little barber's shop, of no very great pretensions, but of
sufficient respectability, as barber's shops were in those days, not to
make any decent person shrink from going into it. No doubt, in the crowd
of Fleet Street--for Fleet Street was then crowded, although not to the
extent it is now--Johanna and her friend passed quite unnoticed by Todd,
even if he had been looking out. At all events, they reached Temple Bar
without any obstruction or adventure. Finding, then, that they had
passed the main entrance to the Temple, they went down the nearest
adjacent street, and pursuing a circuitous route through some
curious-looking courts, they reached their destination yet a little
before the appointed hour. Colonel Jeffery, however, was not likely to
keep Johanna Oakley waiting.
"There," said Arabella. "Is that the colonel?"
Johanna looked up just as the colonel approached, and lifted his hat.
"Yes, yes."
In another moment he was with them. There was a look upon the