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

in feeling to what I was. I am sure that God is, even now, giving me strength and calmness to do this much for him who would have risked anything for me." To reason with any one impressed with such notions would have been folly indeed, and Arabella forbore doing so at that juncture. She could not but be amazed, however, at the firmness of manner of Johanna now, in comparison with the frantic burst of grief which she had so recently been indulging in. Her step was firm, her lips were compressed, and her countenance, although more than usually pale, was expressive in every feature of highly-wrought determination. "She will do it or die," thought Arabella, "and if anything happens to her, I shall wish myself dead likewise." In this state of feeling--not a very amiable one--the two young girls reached the abode of Arabella Wilmot. The strongly marked feeling of composure and determination by no means left Johanna, but, if anything, seemed to be rather upon the increase, while occasionally she would mutter to herself-- "Yes--yes; I will know all--I will know the worst." When they were alone in the little chamber of Arabella--that little chamber which had witnessed so many of the mutual confidences of those two young girls--Arabella at once began to say something that might provoke a discussion about the propriety of the hazardous expedition to Todd's, but Johanna stopped her by saying as she laid her hands gently upon her arm-- "Arabella, will you do me two favours?" "A hundred; but--" "Nay, hear me out, dear friend, before you say another word. The first of those favours is, that you will not, by word or look, try to dissuade me from my purpose of going in disguise to Todd's. The second is, that you will keep my secret when I do go." "Oh! Johanna! Johanna!" "Promise me." "Yes. I do--I do." "I am satisfied. And now, my own dear Arabella, let me tell you that I do not think that there is any such danger as you suppose in the expedition. In the first place, I do not think Todd will easily discover me to be aught else than what I pretend to be, and if I should see that I am in any danger, Fleet Street, with all its living population, is close at hand, and such a cry for aid as I, being, as I am, forearmed by being forewarned, could raise, would soon bring me many defenders." Arabella sobbed. "And then, after all, I only want to stay until, by one absence of Todd's from the house, I shall be able to make a search for some memorial of the visit of Mark Ingestrie there. If I find it not, I return to you at once better satisfied, and with better hopes than I went forth. If I do find it, I will call upon the tardy law for justice." "Johanna--Johanna, you are not the same creature that you were!" "I know it. I am changed. I feel that I am." Arabella looked at the sweet childish beauty of the face before her, and her eyes filled with tears again at the thought that something near akin to despair had implanted upon it that look of unnatural calmness and determination it wore. "You doubt me?" said Johanna. "Oh! no--no. I feel now that you will do it, and feeling that, I likewise feel that I ought not to drive you to seek assistance from another, in your enterprise. But something must be arranged between us." "In what respect?" "Such as, if I should not hear of you within a certain time, I--I--" "You would feel bound to find me some help. Be it so, Arabella. If I do not come to you or send to you, before the midnight of to-morrow, do what you will, and I shall not think that you have committed any breach of faith." "I am content, Johanna, to abide by those conditions; and now I will say nothing to you to bend you from your purpose, but I will pray to Heaven that you may become successful, not in finding any record of Mark Ingestrie, but in procuring peace to your mind by the utter absence of such record." "I will go now." "No--no, Johanna. Bethink you what pain your unexplained absence would give to your father. Something must be said or done to make him feel at ease during the, perhaps, many hours that you will be absent." "It is well thought of, Arabella. Oh! how selfish we become when overwhelmed by our own strange emotions! I had forgotten that I had a father." It was now agreed between the two young girls that Johanna should go home, and that Arabella Wilmot should call for her, and ask Mr. Oakley's permission for her (Johanna) to come to her upon a visit for two days. It was no very unusual thing for Johanna to pass a night with her friend, so that it was thought such a course now would have the effect of quieting all anxiety on account of the absence of the young girl from her parental home. CHAPTER LX. TODD FINDS A BOY. "Temporary insanity, and a dividend of one shilling upon the razor!" Such was the enlightened verdict of twelve sapient shopkeepers in the Strand upon John Mundell--peace to his manes! He is gone where there are no discounts--no usury laws--no unredeemed pledges, and no strings of pearls! Good day to you, John Mundell! "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Sweeney Todd. "That affair is settled in an uncommonly satisfactory manner. What an odd thing it is, though, that nobody now comes into my shop, but somebody else, upon some shuffling excuse or another, comes in within two minutes afterwards. Now, if I were superstitious, which--I--I am not--" Here Todd looked first over his right shoulder and then over his left, with two perceptible shudders. "If, as I say, I were superstitious which--Hilloa! who's this?" "Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Todd," said a woman in widow's weeds, as she entered the shop, "but they do say that--that--" "What?" screamed Todd, "what?" "That you are charitable to the poor." "Oh, that's all. I--I. That's all. Very good. I am charitable to the poor. Very--very charitable to the poor. What may your business be, madam?" "You don't know me, Mr. Todd, I dare say, but my name is Slick." "Slick--Slick? No, madam, I have not the pleasure of knowing you; and may I again ask why I am honoured with the visit?" "Why, sir, I have got up a little humble petition. You see, sir, my husband, Solomon Slick, is a watch-maker, and one day, about a month ago, he went out to go to the city with two chronometers, to take to Brown, Smuggins, Bugsby, and Podd, who employ him, and he was never afterwards heard of, leaving me with six children, and one at the breast. Now, Mr. Brown is a kind sort of man, and spoke to Podd about doing something, but Bugsby and Smuggins, they will have it that my husband ran away with the watches, and that we are only watching the best time to go to him; but my aunt, Mrs. Longfinch, in Bedfordshire, will do something for us if we go there; so I am trying to get up a pound or two to take me and the little ones." Todd made a chuckling noise, like a hen in a farm-yard, and looked the picture of compassionate commiseration. "Dear--dear, what a shocking thing." "It is indeed, sir." "And have you no idea of what has become of him, madam?" "Not in the least, sir--not in the least. But I said to myself--'I dare say Mr. Todd will be so good as to assist us in our necessities.'" "Certainly, madam--certainly. Do you know what is the most nourishing thing you can give to your children?" "Alas! sir, the poor things, since their poor father went, have had little choice of one thing or another. It was he who supported them. But what is it, sir?" "Mrs. Lovett's pies." "Ah, sir, they had one a-piece, poor things, the very day after poor Solomon Slick disappeared. A compassionate neighbour brought them, and all the while they ate them, they thought of their father that was gone." "Very natural, that," said Todd. "Now, Mrs. Slick, I am but a poor man, but I will give you my advice, and something more substantial. The advice is, that if anybody is moved to compassion, and bestows upon you a few pence for your children, you go and lay it out in pies at Mrs. Lovett's; and as for the more substantial something, take that, and read it at your leisure." Todd, as he spoke, took from a drawer a religious tract, entitled "The Spiritual Quartern Loaf for the Hungry Sinner," and handed it to Mrs. Slick. The poor woman received it with a look of disappointment, and said, with a slight shudder-- "And is this all you can do, Mr. Todd?" "All!" cried Todd. "All? Good gracious, what more do you want? Recollect, my good woman, that there is another world where the poor will have their reward, provided that in this they are not too annoying to the rich and the comfortable. Go away. Dear--dear, and this is gratitude. I must go and pray for the hardness of heart and the Egyptian darkness of the common and the lower orders in general, and you in particular, Mrs. Slick." The woman was terrified at the extraordinary faces that Todd made during the delivery of this harangue, and hastily left the shop, having dropped the "Spiritual Quartern Loaf for Hungry Sinners" in the doorway. "Ha! ha!" said Todd when she was gone. "They thought of their father, did they, while they ate Lovett's pies. Ha! ha!" At this moment a man made his appearance in the shop, and looked with a sly twinkle at Sweeney Todd. The latter started, for in that man he imagined no other than an under attendant at the establishment of Mr. Fogg, at Peckham. That this man came with some message from Fogg, he did not for a moment doubt, but what could it possibly be, since he (Todd) fully believed that Tobias Ragg was no more. "Do you know me?" said the man. As a general proposition, Todd did not like to say yes to anything, so he looked dubious, and remarked that he thought it might rain soon, but if he (the man) wanted a clean shave, he (Todd) would soon do for him. "But, really, Mr. Todd, don't you know me?" "I know nobody," said Todd. The man chuckled with a hideous grimace, that seemed habitual to him, for he at times indulged in it, when, to all appearance, no subject whatever of hilarity was on the topic, and then he said-- "I come from Fogg." "Fogg's, not Fogg?" The man did not at first seem to understand this nice distinction that Todd drew between coming from Fogg's establishment and coming from Fogg himself; but after knitting his brows, and considering a little, he said-- "Oh--ah--I see. No, I don't come from Fogg, confound him, he don't use me well, so I thought I'd come to tell you--" The shop door opened, and a stout burly-looking man made his appearance. Todd turned upon him, with a face livid with passion, as he said-- "Well, sir, what now?" "Eh?" said the stout burly man. "Ain't this a barber's shop?" "To be sure it is; and, once for all, do you want to be shaved, or do you not?" "Why, what else could I come in for?" "I don't know; but you have been here more than once--more than twice--more than thrice, and yet you have never been shaved yet." "Well, that is a good one." "A good what?" "Mistake, for I have only just come to London to-day; but I'll wait while you shave this gentleman. I am in no hurry." "No, sir," said Todd; "this gentleman is a private friend of mine, and don't come to be shaved at all." The stout burly-looking man seemed rather confused for a moment, and then he turned to the stranger, and said-- "Are you really a private friend of Mr. Todd's?" "Very," said the other. "Then I scorn to interrupt any one in their confidential discourse, just because my beard happens to be a day old. No; I trust that time, and old English politeness, will ever prevent me from doing such a thing; so, Mr. Todd, I will look in upon some other occasion, if you please."