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

finger and thumb, and gave it a terrific pinch. Poor Johanna with difficulty controlled her tears. "Now, sir, be seated if you please. From the country, I suppose, sir?" "Yes. A clean shave, if you please. We comed up from Barkshire, both on us, with beasts." "You and your brother, sir?" "My cousin, t'other'un is; ain't you Bill?" "Yes, to be sure." "Now, Charley, the soap dish. Look alive--look alive, my little man, will you?" "Yes, sir." "You must excuse him being rather slow, gentlemen, but he's not used to the business yet, poor boy--no father, no mother, no friend in all the world but me, sir." "Really!" "Yes, poor lad, but thank God I have a heart--Leave the whiskers as they are, sir?--Yes, and I can feel for the distresses of a fellow creature. Many's the--Your brother--I beg pardon, cousin, will be shaved likewise, sir?--pound I have given away in the name of the Lord. Charley, will you look alive with that soap dish. A pretty boy, sir; is he not?" "Very. His complexion is like--like a pearl." Johanna dropped the soap dish, and clasped her hands over her eyes. That word "pearl" had for the moment got the better of her. CHAPTER LXIX. TAKES A PEEP AT ARABELLA. We regret to leave Johanna in such a predicament, but the progress and due understanding of our tale compel us briefly to revert to some proceedings of Arabella Wilmot, a short detail of which can nowhere come in so well as at this juncture. Up to the moment of parting with Johanna, when the latter went upon her perilous interprise, Arabella had kept up pretty well, but from that moment her spirits began to fail. All the romantic feelings which had at first prompted the advice that concentrated Johanna's expedition to Todd's, evaporated before the hard truthful fact that she, Arabella, had led her young friend into a situation of the greatest peril. Each moment added to the mental agony of the young girl; and at length her sufferings became too acute for further dallying with, and wringing her hands, all she could ask herself was-- "What shall I do to save her?--What shall I do to save her?" Arabella felt that it would kill her to endure the suspense of one hour instead of four-and-twenty; but to whom was she to turn in this sad condition of her feelings? If she went to old Mr. Oakley, what could she expect but the greatest reproaches for leading one so dear to him into such a path of danger; and those reproaches would not be the less stinging on account, probably, of their being only implied, and not spoken. If she appealed to her own friends, it would only be a kind of second-hand mode of appealing to Mr. Oakley, for they, of courses, would go to him. "Oh, wretched girl that I am," she cried, as she wrung her hands. "What shall I do?--What ought I to do?" It was very improbable that, in the midst of such a state of feeling as this, Arabella Wilmot should think of the wisest and best thing to do; and yet strange to say, she did. By mere accident the name of Sir Richard Blunt came to her mind. She had heard Colonel Jeffery speak of him; and from common report, too, she knew he was a man who, of all others, was likely, from inclination as well as power and duty, to aid her. The idea of going to him gained strength and consistency each moment in her mind, as good ideas will. "Yes--yes!" she exclaimed, as with frantic eagerness she arrayed herself for the event, for she had gone home after seeing Johanna on her way; "yes--yes! I will go to him--I will tell him all. He shall know what a silly, foolish, wicked girl I have been, and how by my mad--mad council, I have perhaps destroyed Johanna. But he will save her--oh, yes, he will save her from the consequences of the visit to Todd, and save me from madness." Now, a more decidedly prudent resolve than this could not possibly have been aimed at by Arabella, had she been as cool and collected; as, on the contrary, she was nervous and excited, and it had all the effect upon her mind; for it was astonishing how the mere feeling that she was about to take a good course calmed her down. She had the prudence to interpose no delays by speaking to any one of her intention; but hastily getting into the street, she ran on for some time without reflecting that she had but a very vague idea of where Sir Richard Blunt was to be found. It is astonishing how, under the passions of extraordinary circumstances, people will boldly do things which ordinarily they would shrink from. It was so with Arabella Wilmot. She walked into a shop, and at once asked if they could tell her the exact address of Sir Richard Blunt, the magistrate. "Yes, it is at No. 6, Essex Street, Strand." Off she went again. Fleet Street was passed. True, she lingered a little opposite to Todd's shop, and the idea came across her of rushing in, and saying, "Johanna, come away." But she controlled that feeling, from a conviction that she was doing better by going to the magistrate, who, if it were necessary to take that course, could take it much more effectually than she could. Essex Street was gained, and Arabella's trembling hand sounded an alarm upon the knocker. "Is Sir Richard within?" "No. But if you particularly want him, he is at his private office in Craven Street." To Craven Street then she sped. The number she had been told was 10, and upon the door of that house being opened, she asked a man who was big enough to block up all the passage, and who did so, for the magistrate. "Yes, but you can't see him. He's busy." "I must." "But you can't, my dear." "I will." The man whistled. "Will is a short word, my dear, for you to use. How do you mean to do it, eh?" A door opened, and with his hat on, ready to go out, Sir Richard Blunt himself appeared. Another minute and Arabella would have missed him, and then God knows where, for the next twelve hours, he would be. "What is this, Davis?" he said. "Here's a little 'un, says she will see you, Sir Richard." "Ah, thank God!" cried Arabella, rushing forward and catching a tight hold of the magistrate by the arm. "Yes, I will see you, sir; I have a matter of life and death to speak to you of." "Walk in," said Sir Richard. "Don't hurry yourself in the least, Miss. Pray be composed; I am quite at your disposal." Arabella followed him into a small room. She still kept close to him, and in her eagerness she placed her hand upon her breast, as she said-- "Sir--sir. You--and you only. Todd, Todd--oh, God! he will kill her, and I am more her murderer than he. Johanna--Johanna, my poor Johanna!" Sir Richard slightly changed colour at the sound of those names; and then he said, calmly and slowly-- "I don't think, unless you can assume a greater command of your feelings, that you will ever be able to tell me what you came about." "Oh, yes--yes." "Be seated, I pray you." "Yes--yes. In a moment. Oh, how calm and unimpassioned you are, sir." "It would not do for us both to lose our judgment." Arabella began to feel a little piqued, and that feeling restored her powers to her, probably quicker than any other could have possibly done. She spoke rapidly, but distinctly. "Sir, Miss Johanna Oakley has gone to Sweeney Todd's to find out what has become of Mr. Mark Ingestrie, and I advised her to do so; but now the knowledge that I did so advise her has driven me nearly mad. It will drive me quite mad!" Sir Richard rose from the arm chair into which he had thrown himself, and said-- "'Miss Oakley?' said you? Why--why--what folly. But she has gone home again." "No, she is disguised as a boy, and has taken the situation that Todd put a placard in his window about, and she will be found out of course, and murdered." "No doubt of it." "Oh, God! Oh, God! Is there no lightning to strike me dead?" "I hope not," said Sir Richard Blunt; "I don't want a thunder storm in my parlour." "But, sir--" "But, Miss Wilmot. Is she there now?" "She is--she is." "When did she go?" "About two hours since. Oh, sir--you must do something--you shall do something to save her, or I will run into the streets, and call upon any passenger I meet, that has the form of a man, to aid me; I will raise the town, sir, but I will save her." "That course would be about as wise as the original advice to Miss Oakley to go upon the expedition at all. Now answer me calmly what I shall ask of you." "I will--I will." "What is the prime cause of action that Miss Oakley projects as the result of this disguised entrance into Todd's shop, provided he be deceived by it?" "To search the place upon the first opportunity for some relic of Mark Ingestrie, and so put an end to the torturing suspense regarding his fate." Sir Richard Blunt shook his head. "Do you think that Sweeney Todd would leave such relics within such easy acquisition and inspection? Is he the sort of man, think you, to expose himself to such danger? Oh, Miss Wilmot, this is indeed a hair-brained scheme." "It is--it is, and I have come to you for aid, and--" "Hush! Is the secret of this expedition entirely confined to you and to Miss Oakley?" "It is--it is." "Will her friends not miss her?" "No--no. All has been arranged with what now I cannot help calling a horrible ingenuity. She is like one led to slaughter, and she will pass away from the world, leaving the secret of her disappearance to you and to me only. Sir, I am young, and there are those in this great city who love me, but if Johanna be not saved, I will no longer live to be the most wretched of beings. If there can be found a poison that will let me leave the world, to cast myself at the feet of God, and of Johanna in another, I will take it." Sir Richard looked at his watch. "An hour and a half, you say?" "More than that. Let me think. It was twelve--yes, it was twelve. More you see, sir, than that. Tell me, sir. Tell me at once what can be done. Speak--oh speak to me. What will you do?" "I don't know, Miss Wilmot." With a deep sigh Arabella fainted. * * * * * It was seldom indeed that, even amid his adventurous life, the magistrate found a circumstance that affected him so strongly as that which Arabella Wilmot had related to him. For a short time, even he, with all his powers of rapid thought, and with all the means and appliances which natural skill and practice had given him to meet any emergency, could not think of any mode of escape from the peculiarly awkward position into which this frightfully imprudent step of Johanna had plunged him. "My good girl," he said. "Oh, she has fainted." He rung a hand-bell, and, when a man appeared in answer to the summons, he said-- "Is Mrs. Long within?" "Yes, Sir Richard." "Then bring her here, and tell her to pay every attention to this young lady, who is a friend of mine; and when she recovers, say to her that I shall return in an hour." "Certainly, Sir Richard." In a few moments a matronly-looking woman, who acted in that house as a sort of general manager, made her appearance, and had Arabella removed to a chamber. Before that, the magistrate had hastily put on his hat, and at a quick pace was walking towards Fleet Street. What he intended to do in the emergency--for emergency he evidently thought it was--we shall see quickly. Certain it is that, even by that time, he had made up his mind to some plan of proceeding, and our readers have sufficient knowledge of him to feel that it is likely to be the very best that could be adopted under the circumstances. Certainly Johanna had, by the bold step she had taken, brought affairs to something like a crisis,