By the time they reached Craven Street, therefore, the cook's eyes were considerably opened, and many matters that had been to him extremely obscure, became all at once quite clear, so that he was upon the whole far from sorry for the companionship of the eccentric Crotchet on the road down the Strand to the magistrate's private office. Sir Richard was at home, and anxiously expecting them, so that upon the first hint of their presence they were introduced to him, and he received the report of the officer with evident satisfaction. "Thank God," he said, "two of the greatest malefactors the world ever saw are now in the hands of justice." "Yes," said Crotchet. "They are cotched." "You may depend all of you," added Sir Richard, "that your conduct and great skill in exertions in this affair shall be by me communicated to the Secretary of State, who will not leave you unrewarded. Pray wait for me in the outer room, I have some private business with this gentleman." The officers were a little surprised to hear Sir Richard Blunt call Mrs. Lovett's cook, "this gentleman;" but they of course took no notice of the circumstance while in the presence of their principal, and in a few moments the magistrate was alone with the cook. From a cupboard in his room, then Sir Richard Blunt took wine and other refreshments, and laid them before the cook, saying "Refresh yourself, my friend; but for your own sake, as your fare has been but indifferent for some time, I beg you to be sparing." "I will, sir. I owe you muchvery much!" "You are free now." "Iamsir." "And yet you are very unhappy." The cook started and changed colour slightly. He filled, for himself, a glass of wine, and after drinking it he heaved a sigh, as he said "Sir, I am unhappy. I do not care how soon the world and I part, sir. The hopethe dream of my life has gone from me. All that I lived forall that I cherished as the brightest expectation of joy in this world has passed away like a vapour, and left not a rack behind. I am unhappy, and better, far better, would it have been for me if Sweeney Todd had taken my life, or if by some subtle poison, Mrs. Lovett had shuffled me out of the worldI am unhappy." "Indeed! And you really think you have nothing in this world now to live for?" "I do. But it is not a thought only. It is a knowledgeit is a fact that cannot be gainsaid or controverted. I tell you, sir, that I can never now hope to realise the happiness which was the daydream of my existence, and which has passed from me like a dream, nevernever to come again. It was in the despair contingent upon such thoughts and feelings, that I went to Mrs. Lovett and became her slave; but now I will be off far away from England, and on some foreign shore I will lay my bones." "But, my good sir, you will be wanted on the trial of your old friend, Mrs. Lovett." "Cannot you hang the woman without my help?" "Yes, I think we might, but so material a witness to her infamy as yourself cannot be dispensed with. Of course I do not pretend to be a conjuror, or to say to any man'You shall be happy in spite of all your prognostications to the contrary;' but from what you have told me of your story, I must confess that to my perception you take much too gloomy a view of your condition." "Too gloomy!" exclaimed the cook, as he filled himself up another glass of wine. "Too gloomy! My dear, sir, you don't know how I loved that girlyou don't know how IIBut it is no matter nowall that is past. Oh God! that she should be false to meshe of all persons in the great world!" "And so you will let this little disappointment of the heart, place you in your youth quite beside all possible enjoyment? Is this wise, sir? Is it even manly?" The poor cook was silent for a few moments, and then in a voice of deep emotion, he said "Sir, you don't know how much I loved her. You do not know how I pictured to myself happiness with her alone. You do not know, sir, how, even when death stared me in the face, I thought of her and her only, and howBut no matterno matter, sir. She is false, and it is madness to speak of her. Let her go, sir. It is just possible that in the time to come, I may outlive the despair that now fills my heart." "You surely will." "I do not think it. But I will hope that I may." "And have you really no hopeno innate lurking supposition in your mind, that you may be doing her an injustice in your suspicions of her faith?" "Suspicions?" "Ay, sir, suspicions, for even you must admit that you know nothing." "Know nothing, sir?" "Absolutely nothing. You will find, if you come to consider the affair, that, as I say, you know nothing, but suspect much; and so upon mere suspicion you will make your future life miserable. I would not so bend to circumstances if the whole world stood up before me, and told me I was right in my dread thoughts of one whom I had loved." The poor cook glanced at Sir Richard Blunt, and for the space of about half a minute, not one word passed between them. Then in a low voice, the cook said "You have read Romeo and Juliet, sir?" "Yeswhat then?" "There is one line there, in which we read that 'He jests at scars who never felt a wound.'" "Well, how would you apply that line to the present circumstances?" "I would say you have never loved, sir, and I have loved." "A broad assumption that, my friend," said Sir Richard Blunt, "a very broad assertion, indeed. But come, I have to spare a short time. Will you, in recompense for what I have done for you, relate to me more fully than you have done, how it is that you suspect her whom you loved of falsehood to you?" "Do not say loved, sir; I love her still." "I am glad to hear it. I pray you to go on, and tell me now all, if you feel that you can have sufficient confidence in me, and that you can view me with a sufficient friendly feeling." "Oh, sir, why do you doubt me? Do I not owe to you my life? Do I not owe it to you that I escaped the death that without a doubt was designed for me by Todd? and was it not by your persevering, that at length I had patience enough to wait until the proper time had come for my release, when it could be accomplished without the shadow of a doubt as to the result?" "Well," said Sir Richard Blunt, with a smile, "I hope then that I have established some claim upon you; so now tell me your story, my friend, and at the end of it I will, from my experience, do what I can to bring you substantial comfort." "You shall hear all, sir," said the cook, "but comfort and I have parted long since, I fear, from each other for ever." CHAPTER CXV. THE COOK BECOMES A VERY IMPORTANT PERSONAGE. At this last declaration of Mrs. Lovett's late cook, regarding the tender adieu that he and comfort had taken of each other, Sir Richard Blunt only smiled faintly, and slightly inclined his hand as much as to say "That is all very well, but I am waiting to hear your story, if you please." "Well, sir," added the cook. "You already know that I am not exactly what I seem, and that my being in that most abominable woman's employment as a cook, was one of those odd freaks of fortune, which will at times detract the due order of society, and place people in the most extraordinary positions." "Exactly." "I am, sir, an orphan, and was brought up by an uncle with every expectation that he would be kind and liberal to me as I progressed in years; but he had taken his own course and had made up his mind as to what I was to be, how I was to look, and what I was to say and to do, without asking himself the question, if nature was good enough to coincide with him or not. The consequence was then, that directly he found me very different from what he wished me to be, he was very angry indeed, and then I put the finishing stroke to his displeasure, by committing the greatest crime that in his eyes I could commit I fell in love." "Humph!" "Yes, sir, that was just what he said at first, when some officious friend told of it, and sending for me he said'You must give up all love nonsense if you wish to preserve my favour,' upon which I said'Sir, did you never love?' 'That is not the question,' he said. 'It is of your follies now, not mine, that we are speaking,' and so he turned me out of the room." "And what did you do? Did you give up your love?" "No, sir; if he had asked me to give up my life that would have been much easier to me." "Go on. What then happened?" "Why, sir, my uncle and I met very seldom, but there was one upon my track that he paid to follow me, and to report my actions to him; and that spyoh, that I had caught him! that spy made my uncle acquainted with the fact, that I continued, despite his prohibition, to meet with the only being who ever awakened in my bosom a tender feeling; and so I was abandoned by my relative, and left penniless almost." "But you had youth and health?" "I had, and I resolved to make use of those advantages as best I might, by endeavouring while they lasted, frail and fluttering possessions as they are, to make a home for myself and for her whom I loved." "The feeling, I presume, was reciprocal?" "I thought so." "Was it only a thought, then?" "Alas! no. It was a certainty; and if an angel with wings fresh spread from Heaven, and carrying upon them the soft light of an eternal world, had come to me and told me that she would be false to me, I would not have believed as much." "And yet" "And yet, as you say, I have found her false. Wellwell, Sir Richardlet me proceed. The thought of her unmans me at moments, but in time I may recover from such feelings." "Most unquestionably you will; and then you will look to your present condition of mind with such a smile of incredulity, and only a faint faith in your own memory that paints you such feelings." "I cannot say, sir, that it will not be so, but I do not think so. To proceed, however. I heard that an expedition was about to start to explore some rich islands in the Southern Sea. If successful, every one who took part in it would be enriched; and if unsuccessful, I could not lose my life in a better cause then in trying to make a happy home for her whom I love. I at once embraced the proposition, and became one of the adventurers, much against the inclination of the gentle girl whom I loved, and who in imagination pictured to herself a thousand dangers as involved in the enterprise." "You went?" "I did, and with every hope of returning in about a year an independent man. I thought little of the perils I was about to encounter in my voyage. I and the fair girl upon whom I had fixed my best hopes and affections parted, after many tears and protestations of fidelity. I kept my faith." "And she?" "Broke hers." "As you thinkas you think. You cannot be too cautious, my young friend, in making assertions of that character." "Cautious, sir? Am I to believe the evidence of my own eyes, or am I not?" "Not always," said Sir Richard Blunt, calmly. "But I pray you go on with your narrative." "I will. The principal object of the voyage failed entirely; but by pure accident I got possession of a String of Pearls, of very great value indeed, which, provided I could get home in safety, would value in Europe quite a sufficient sum to enable us to live in comfort. But the dangers of the deep assailed us. We were wrecked; and fully believing that I should not survive, I handed the pearls to a stronger comrade, and begged him to take them to her whom I had loved, to tell herself my fate, and to bid her not weep for me, since I had died happy in the thought that I had achieved something for her; and so, my friend and I parted. I was preserved and got on board a merchant vessel bound for England, where I arrived absolutely penniless. But I had a heart full of hope and joy; for if I could but find my poor girl faithful to me, I felt that we might yet be happy, whether my comrade had lived to bring to her the pearls or not." "And you found her?" "You shall hear, sir. I walked from Southampton to London, subsisting on the road as best I could. Sometimes I met with kind treatment at farmhouses, and sometimes with quite the reverse, until at length I reached London tolerably exhausted, as you may suppose, and in anything but a good plight." "Well, but you found your girl all right, I suppose?" "No. I walked up the Strand; and as some of our happiest interviews had taken place in the Temple Gardens, I could not resist turning aside for a moment to look at the old familiar spot, when what do you think was the sight that met my eyes?" "I really can't say." "I will tell you, sir. I saw her whom I lovedthe young and beautiful girl for whom I had gone through so muchthe being upon whose faith and constancy I would at any time have staked my lifethe, as I thought, most innocent, guileless creature upon the face of the earth" "Well, well, my good friend, what did you see this paragon of perfection about?" "You will not believe it, sir." "Oh, yes, I shalldo not be afraid of thatI shall believe it. Your narrative bears too much the stamp of truth about it for me to doubt it for a moment. I pray you to go on." "I will then. The first object that met my eyes in that Temple Garden was the being whom I loved so fondly leaning upon the arm of a man in a military undressleaning, did I say, upon his arm? she was almost upon his breast, and he was actually supporting her with one of his arms round her waist." "Well?" "What, sir! Is that all you can say to it? Would you say 'Well?' if you saw the only creature you ever loved in such a situation, sir? Well, indeed!" "My dear friend, do not get excited, now." "Oh, sir, it would excite a stick or a stone." "Excuse me, then, for having said 'Well,' and go on with your story. What did she say to excuse herself to you?" "'Tis well, sirof course, I cannot expect others to feel as I do upon such an occasion. I did not speak to her, sir. The sight of such perfidy was enough for me. From that moment she fell from the height I had raised her to in my imagination, and nothing she could say, and nothing I could say, would raise her up again." "And you, then, only walked away?" "That is all. With such a pang at my heart at the moment as I wonder did not kill me, I walked away, and left her to her own conclusions." "Thenthen, my young friend, you did the very reverse of what I should have done, for you should have gone up to her, and politely taken leave of her, so as to let her know at all events that you were aware of her perfidy. I should not have been content to let her have the satisfaction of thinking I was at the bottom of the sea while she was enjoying a flirtation with her officer; but, of course, different people take different courses upon emergencies. There is one thing, however, that I wonder you did not inquire about." "What was that?" "Your String of Pearls. How could you tell but that your friend had got to London, and had actually given her the Pearls with your message appended to them? I really am surprised that you did not step forward and say, 'Oblige me, miss, with my pearls, if you no longer favour me with your affections!'" "No, no. To tell the truth, I was too heartbroken at the time to care about anything in all the world; I had lost her who was to me the greatest jewel it had ever contained, and I cared for nothing else. I do believe I was a little mad, for I walked about the rest of that day, not knowing where I went to, and at last I found myself, tired, worn out, famishing, opposite to Mrs. Lovett's shopwindow, and the steam of those abominable pies began to tempt me, so much that I went into the shop, and after some talk, I actually accepted the situation of cook to her, and there, but for you, I should have breathed my last." "Not a doubt of it. And now, my young friend, you know that I am a policemagistrate, and I dare say you have heard a great deal about my sources of information, and the odd way in which I find out things when folks think they keep them a profound secret. You have told me all your history, but you have thought proper, as you were, if you pleased, quite justified in doing, to withhold your name." "I have done so, but I hardly know why. I will tell it to you, however, now." "Hold, I know it." "You know it, sir?" "Yes, your name is Mark Ingestrie!" "It is, indeed. But how you came to know that, sir, is to me most mysterious." "Oh, I know more than that. The name of the young lady who, you believe, played you such a trick, is Johanna Oakley." Mark Ingestrie, for it was indeed no other, sprang to his feet, exclaiming "Are you man or devil, that you know what I have never breathed to you?" "Don't be surprised, my young friend. I can tell you a little more than that even. The friend to whom you intrusted your String of Pearls, was named Francis Thornhill; and his doglet me seeOh, his large dog was called 'Hector.'" Mark Ingestrie trembled excessively, and sinking back in his seat, he turned very pale. "This must be a dream," he said, "or you, sir, get your information from the spirits of the dead." "Not at all. But have you faith in my inspiration now sufficient to induce you to believe anything that I may tell you?" "In good truth, I have; and I may well have, for after what you have already told me, your power of knowledge cannot by me be for one moment doubted." "Very well, then. In the first place, Mr. Francis Thornhill reached London in safety." "He did?" "I tell you so. He arrived in London with your String of Pearls in his pocket. He fully believed you were dead. Indeed, he fancied that he had seen the last of you, and was quite prepared to say as much to Miss Johanna Oakley." "And he did? That will be some excuse for her, if she thought that I was gone." "No, he did not. On his route he turned into the shop of Sweeney Todd to be shaved, and there he was murdered." "Murdered!" "Yes, most foully murdered; and the String of Pearls got into the possession of that man, proving ultimately one of the means by which his frightful villainous crime came to light. The dog remained at Todd's door seeking for its master, to the great discomfiture of the murderer, who made every effort within his power for its destruction, in which however he did not succeed." "Gracious Heaven! my poor friend Thornhill to meet with such a fate! Oh God! and all on account of that fatal String of Pearls! Oh, ThornhillThornhill! rather would I have sunk for ever beneath the wave, than such a dreadful end should have been yours." "The past cannot be recalled," said Sir Richard. "It is only with the present, and with the future that we have anything to do now. Would you like to hear more?" "More? Of whom? Is he not dead?my poor friend?" "Yes, he is dead; but I can tell you more of other people. I can tell you that Johanna Oakley was faithful to you. I can tell you that she mourned your loss as you would wish her to mourn it, knowing how you would mourn hers. I can tell you that the gentleman's arm she was leaning upon was only a dear friend, and that the fact of her having to be supported by him at the unlucky moment when you saw this was solely owing to the deep grief she was plunged into upon your account." "Oh nonono!" "I say yes. It was so, Mr. Ingestrie; and if you had at that moment stepped forward, you would have saved yourself much misery, and you would have saved her such heartbreaking thoughts, and such danger, as it will frighten you to listen to." CHAPTER CXVI. JOHANNA IS AMPLY PAID FOR HER BRIEF SERVICE AT TODD'S. Upon hearing all this, poor Mark Ingestrie turned very faint and fell back in his chair, looking so pale and wan, that Sir Richard Blunt was compelled to go across the room to hold him up. After giving him a glass of wine, he recovered, and with a deep sigh he said "And so I have wronged her after all! Oh, my Johanna, I am unworthy of you!" "That," said Sir Richard, "is a subject entirely for the young lady's own consideration.N. O. W." Mark Ingestrie looked curiously in the face of Sir Richard Blunt, as with marked emphasis upon each letter he said, "N. O. W!" But he had not to wait long for an explanation of what it meant. A door at the back of the room was flung open, and Johanna sprung forward with a cry of joy. In another moment she was in the arms of Mark Ingestrie, and Sir Richard Blunt had left the room. The Meeting Of Mark And Johanna. The Meeting Of Mark And Johanna. It would be quite impossible, if we had the will to attempt it, for us to go through the scene that took place between Johanna Oakley and Mark Ingestrie in the magistrate's parlour. For about half an hour they quite forgot where they were, or that there was any one in the world but themselves. At the end of that period of time, though, Sir Richard Blunt gently walked into the room. "Well," he said, "have you come to any understanding about that military man in the Temple Gardens?" Johanna sprang towards the magistrate, and placing her arms upon his breast, she kissed him on the cheek. "Sir," she said, "you are our very dear friend, and I love you as I love my father." "God bless you!" said Sir Richard, "You have, by those few words, more then repaid me for all that I have done. Are you happy?" "Very, very happy." "So very happy, sir," said Ingestrie, as his eyes glistened through tears of joy, "that I can hardly believe in its reality." "And yet you are both so poor." "Ah, sir, what is poverty when we shall be together?" "We will face that foe, Mark, I think," said Johanna, with a smile, "and he shall not extort a tear from us." "Well," said Sir Richard, as he opened his desk, "since you are not to be knocked down by poverty, what say you to riches? Do you know these, Mr. Ingestrie?" "Why, that is my String of Pearls." "Yes. I took this from Todd's escritoire myself, and they are yours and Johanna's. Will you permit me always to call you Johanna?" "Oh, yesyes. Do so. All who love me call me Johanna." "Very well. This String of Pearls, I have ascertained, is worth a sufficient sum to place you both very far above all the primary exigences of life. It will be necessary to produce them at the trial of Sweeney Todd, but after that event they will be handed to you to do what you please with them, when you can realise them at at once, and be happy enough with the proceeds." "If my poor friend, Thornhill," sighed Mark Ingestrie, "could but have lived to see this day!" "That, indeed, would have been a joy," said Johanna. "Yes," said the magistrate; "but the grave has closed on his poor remainsat least, I may say so figuratively. He was one of Todd's victims, one of his numerous victims; for I do believe that, for a long time, scarcely a week passed that did not witness some three or four murders in that man's shop." "Horrible!" "You may well use that expression, in speaking of the career of Sweeney Todd. It has been most horrible; but there cannot be a doubt of his expiating his crimes upon the scaffold, together with his partner in guilt, Mrs. Lovett." Mark Ingestrie gave a shudder as that woman's name was mentioned, for it put him in mind of the cellar where he had lived so long, and where it was only by the most good fortune that he had not terminated his career. Before they could say any more, one of the officers in attendance upon Sir Richard, announced Colonel Jeffery. "Ah, that is your dreadful military rival," said Sir Richard to Ingestrie. "That is the gentleman whom you saw in the garden of the Temple with Johanna." "I have much to thank him for. His conduct to Johanna has been most noble." The colonel smiled when he saw Mark Ingestrie and Johanna, for he well knew, from private information he had got from the magistrate, that Mark Ingestrie and Mrs. Lovett's cook were identical; and holding out his hand to the young man, he said "Accept of my best and sincerest wishes, Mr. Ingestrie." "And you, sir," said Mark, "accept of my best thanks. Our gratitude is largely due to you, sir." "I am quite repaid by this very happy result; and I have the pleasure of informing you, Sir Richard, that poor Tobias is very much better indeed." "Which I am rejoiced to hear," said Sir Richard. "And now, my dear Johanna, it is time for you to go home. You will hear from me in the morning, for I intend to do myself the pleasure of calling upon your father, and explaining all to him; for there are some circumstances that he is yet in ignorance of, and particularly concerning Mr. Ingestrie." "I will walk with you to your door, Johanna," said Mark rising and tottering. "No," said Sir Richard Blunt; "that must not be tonight. Do not let him, Johanna. He is by far too weak and unwell to do anything of the kind. A calm and long night's rest here will do him a world of good. Business prevents me from leaving the office; but I daresay the colonel will see Johanna in safety." "With pleasure," said Colonel Jeffery, "if Mr. Ingestrie has no objection to my doing so." "Sir," said Mark, "there is no one in all the world that I would more cheerfully see protecting my Johanna. I feel that I am in too great a state of exhaustion to go out. I leave her to your care, sir." "That is right," said Sir Richard Blunt. "Now, goodnight, Johanna, and God bless you. You will see me in the morning, recollect." Mark Ingestrie took a parting embrace of Johanna, and then she went off with the colonel, who, on their road home, told her how he and Arabella had got so far as to fix their wedding day, and how he should not feel at all happy unless both she and Mark Ingestrie were at the ceremony. "Indeed, he hoped," he said, "that they might give the parson only one trouble, by being married upon the same occasion." Johanna warded this last part of the colonel's speech; but she was fervent in her hopes that he and Arabella would be so very happy, and in her praises of her young friend; so in very pleasant discourse indeed, they reached the old spectaclemaker's shop, and then the colonel shook hands with Johanna, and bade her a kind and friendly adieu, and she was let in byto her immense surpriseher mother! Mrs. Oakley fell upon Johanna's neck in a passion of tears, crying "Come, my childcome to your mother's heart, and tell her that you forgive her for much past neglect and unkindness." "Oh, mother," said Johanna, "do not speak so. There is nothing to forgive; and if you are happy and we are all good friends, we will never think of the past." "That's right, my dear," said Mr. Oakley, from the passage; "that's right, my love. Come in, both of you." But it is necessary that we should briefly state how it was that this wonderful change in the behaviour of Mrs. Oakley came about, and for that purpose we must retrace our steps a little. The reader will be so good as to recollect that the last time Mrs. Oakley was introduced to his notice she was encumbered by Mr. Lupin, and had the pleasure of introducing that gentleman to the notice of Big Ben the beefeater, who had quickly put all idea of escape out of the question, as regarded that highly religious personage. At that point the presence of other events compelled us to leave the lady, and repair to Todd's shop, and to Mrs. Lovett's little concern in Bell Yard. The appearance of Lupin's face when he found that he was in the grasp of Big Ben, would have been quite a study for a painter. It transcended all description, and for the moment seemed as if he were bidding farewell to this world and to all his iniquities in it, without the intervention of the law. But in a few moments he recovered from this condition, and sliding on to his knees, and in a whining tone, he cried "Mercy, Mercy! Oh, let me go!" "At the end of a rope," said Big Ben. "Easy does it. What has he been and done, Mrs. O.?" "Murder, murder!" A crowd of people soon began to collect around them, and then Lupin made an effort to thrust himself out of the grasp of Big Ben, but the only result of the effort was very nearly to strangle himself. "You are killing the man, you great brute!" cried a woman. "You are throttling the poor man." "He will be murdered," shouted another female. "Oh, you great wretch, do you want to take his life?" "Listen to me," said Mrs. Oakley. "He has murdered his poor wife, and that is the reason I have asked that he should be held tight." "Murdered his wife!" exclaimed about twelve females in chorus. "Murdered his wife? Then hanging is a great deal too good for him. Hold him tight, sir, do. Oh, the wretch!" The tide of popular feeling fairly turned against Mr. Lupin, and Big Ben had as much difficulty now in preserving the half dead wretch from popular fury as if he had been accused of any other crime, he might have had to prevent popular sympathy from aiding his escape. "Oh!" cried one lady, of rather extensive proportions, who was the wife of a baker, "I should like to have him in a brisk oven for an hour and a half." "And I," said the lady of a butcher, "would see him slaughtered without so much as winking at him." "And serve him right, the wagabone!" cried Big Ben. "Come along, will you, you illlooking scarecrow! Easy does it. Will you walk? Oh, very well, don't. Who are you?" A little man with a constable's staff in his hand, rushed before Ben, crying out "What is it? what is it? I'm a constable. What is it?" "Murder!" said Mrs. Oakley. "I give that man in charge for murdering his wife. I saw him do it." "That will do," said the constable. "Give him to me. I'll take him. He dare not resist me. I'll have him." Big Ben looked at the constable and then he shook his head, as he said very gravely "I tell you what it is, my little man, you ain't fit to tussle with such a fellow as thisI'll take him along for you. Where is he to go?" "To the roundhouse, in course; but I'm a constable. I must take himI will take him! Give him to me, sir, directlyI will have himI must go with him!" "Wait a minute," said Ben. "Easy does it! You must go with him, you say? Very goodeasy does everything!" With this, Ben grasped Mr. Lupin round the middle, and placed him under his left arm, and suddenly pouncing, then, upon the constable, he caught him up and placed him under the right arm; and then away he walked, to the admiration of the populace, and paying about as much attention to the kicking of the constable and the kicking of Mr. Lupin, as though they were two dogs that he was carrying home. And so the murderer was taken to the roundhouse, where Mrs. Oakley duly preferred the charge against him, and promised to substantiate it before a magistrate when called upon so to do. CHAPTER CXVII. SHOWS HOW MRS. OAKLEY RECONCILED HERSELF TO EVERYBODY AT HOME. When Ben and Mrs. Oakley had thus disposed of Mr. Lupin, and left him to his solitary and not very pleasant reflections in a cell of the roundhouse, they found themselves together in the open street, and Ben, as he cast a woeful glance at her, said "Well, how does yer feel now? Easy does it! Oh, you aint abeen and behaved yourself properly latelyyou is like the old bear as we calls Nosey. He's always adoing what he shouldn't, and always anever doing what he should." "Ben?" "Well, blaze away. What is yer going to say now?" "I feel, Ben, that I am a very different woman from what I wasvery different." "Then you must have gained by the exchange, for you was, I will say it, anything but a pleasant bit o' goods. There's poor old Oakley amaking of spectacles all days, and awearing of his old eyes outand there's Miss Johanna, bless her heart! as wise a little bit o' human nature as you'd wish to see, whether she's in petticoats or the other things; and yet you neglects 'em both, all for to run arter a canting snivelling wagabone like this Lupin, that we wouldn't have among the beasteses at the Tower, if so be he'd come and offer himself." "I know it, BenI know it." "You know it! Why didn't you know it before?" "I don't know, Ben; but my eyes are open now. I have had a lesson that to my dying day I shall never forget. I have found that piety may only be a cloak with which to cover up the most monstrous iniquity.


" "Oh, you have made that discovery, have you?" "I have, indeed, Ben." "Well, I knowed as much as that when I was a small baby. It only shows how back'ard some folks is in coming for'ard with their edication." "Yes, Ben." "Well, and what is you going to be arter now?" "I wish to go home, and I want you to come with me, and to say a kind word for me; I want you to tell them how I now see the error of my ways, and how I am an altered woman, and mean to be a veryvery different person than I was." Here Mrs. Oakley's genuine feelings got the better of her, and she began to weep bitterly; and Ben, after looking at her for a few moments, cried out "Why, it's real, and not like our hyena that only does it to gammon us! Come, mother Oakley, just pop your front paw under my arm, and I'll go home with you; and if you don't get a welcome there, I'm not a beefeater. Why, the old man will fly right bang out of his wits for joy. You should only see what a house is when the mother and the wife don't do as she ought. Mother O., you should see what a bit of fire there is in the grate, and what a hearth." "I know itI ought to know it." "You ought to know it!" added Ben, putting himself into an oratorial attitude. "You should only see the old man when dinner time comes round. He goes into the parlour and he finds no fire; then he says'Dear me!'" "Yesyes." "Then he gives a boy a ha'penny to go and get him something that don't do him no sort of good from the cook's shop, and sometimes the boy nabs the ha'penny and the shilling both, and ain't never heard of again by any means no more." "No doubt, Ben." "Then, when tea comes round, it don't come round at all, and the old man has none; but he takes in a ha'porth of milk in a jug without a spout, and he drinks that up, cold and miserable, with a pennyloaf, you see." "Yesyes." "And then at night, when there ought to be a little sort of comfort round the fireside, there ain't none." "But Johanna, Benthere is Johanna?" "Johanna?" "Yes. Is she not there to see to some of her father's comforts? She loves himI know she does, Ben!" Ben placed his finger by the side of his nose, and in an aside to himself, he said "Now I'll touch her up a bitnow I'll punish her for all she has done, and it will serve her right." Then, elevating his voice, he added"Did you mention Johanna?" "Yes, Ben, I did." "Then I'm sorry you did. Perhaps you think she's been seeing to the old man's comforts a littleairing his nightcap, and so onEh? Is that the idea?" "Yes, I know that she would do anything gladly for her father. She was always most tenderly attached to him." "Humph!" "Why do you say, Humph, Ben?" "Just answer me one question, Mrs. O. Did you ever hear of a young girl as was neglected by her motherher mother who of all ought to be the person to attend to herturning out well?" "Do not terrify me, Ben." "Well, all I have got to say is, that Johanna can't be in two places at once, and as she isn't at home, how, I would ask any reasonable Christian, can she attend to the old man?" "Not at home, Ben?" "Notathome!" "Oh, Heaven! why did I not stay in that dreadful man's house, and let him murder me! Why did I not tell him at once that I knew of his crime, and implore him to make me his next victim! Oh, Ben, if you have any compassion in your disposition you will tell me all, and then I shall know what to hope, and what to dread." "Well," said Ben, "here goes then." "What goes?" "I mean I'm agoing to tell you all, as you seem as if you'd like to know it." "Do! Oh, do!" "Then of course Johanna being but a very young piece of goods, and not knowing much o' the ways o' this here world, and the habits and manners o' the wild beasteses as is in it, when she found as the old house wasn't good enough for her mother, she naturally enough thought it wasn't good enough for her, you know." "Oh, this is the most dreadful stroke of all!" "I should say it were," said Ben, quite solemnly. "Take it easy though, and you'll get through it in the course of time. Well then, when Johanna found as everything at home was sixes and sevens, she borrowed a pair of what do call 'ems of some boy, and a jacket, and off she went." "She what?" "She put on a pair of thingumyswell, breeches then, if you must have itand away she went, and the last I saw of her was in Fleet Street with 'em on." "Gracious Heaven!" "Very likely, but that don't alter the facts of the case, you know, Mrs. O. On she had 'em, and all I can say is that you might have knocked me down flat to see her, that you might. I didn't think I should ever have got home to the beasteses in the Tower again, it gave me such a turn." "Lost! Lost!" "Eh? What do you say? What have you lost now?" "My child! My Johanna!" "Oh! Ah, to be sure. But then you know, Mrs. O, you ought to have staid at home, and gived her ever so much good advice, you know; and when you saw she was bent upon putting on the boy's things, you as a mother ought to have said, 'My dear, take your legs out of that if yer pleases, and if yer don't, I'll pretty soon make you,' and then staid and gived the affair up as a bad job that wouldn't pay, and took to morals." "Yesyes. 'Tis I, and I only, who am to blame. I have been the destruction of my child. Farewell, Ben. You will perhaps in the course of time not think quite so badly of me as you now do. Farewell!" "Hold!" cried Ben as he clutched the arm of Mrs. Oakley only the more tightly in his own "What are you at now?" "Death is now my only resource. My child is lost to me, and I have driven her by my neglect to such a dreadful course. I cannot live now. Let me go, Ben. You will never hear of me again." "If I let you go may I beWell, no matterno matter. Come on. It's all one, you know, a hundred years hence." "But at present it is madness and despair. Let me go, I say. The river is not far off, and beneath its waters I shall at least find peace for my breaking heart. Let my death be considered as some sort of expiation of my sins." "Stop a bit." "Nonono." "But I say, yes. Things ain't quite so bad as you think 'em, only it was right o' me, you know, just to let you know what they might have been." "What do you tell me?" "Why that there ain't a better girl than Johanna in all the world, and that if all the mothers that ever was or ever will be, had neglected her and set her all their bad examples in the universal world, she would still be the little angel that she is now, and no mistake." "Then she is not from home? It is all a fable?" "Not quite, Mrs. O. just you trot on now comfortably by the side of me, and I will tell you the whole particulars, and then you will find that there ain't no occasion to go plumping into the river on Johanna's account." Poor Mrs. Oakley, with delight beaming upon every feature of her face, now listened to Ben while he explained the whole matter to her, as far as he himself was cognisant of it; and if he did not offer to be very explicit in minor details, she at all events heard from him quite enough to convince her that Johanna was all that the tenderest mother could wish. "Oh, Ben," she said, as the tears coursed each other down her cheeks, "how could you torture me as you have done?" "All for your own good," said Ben. "It only lets you see what might have happened if Johanna had not been the good little thing that she is, that's all." "Well, perhaps it is for the best that I should have suffered such a pang, and I only hope that Heaven will accept of it as some sort of expiation of my wickedness. If you had not held me, Ben, I should certainly have taken my life." "Not a doubt about it," said Ben; "and a pretty kittle of fish you would then have made of the whole affair. However, that's all right enough now, and as for old Oakley, all you have got to do is to go into the shop and say to him. 'Here I am, and I am sorry for the past, which I hope you will forgive, and for the future I will strive to be a good wife.'" "Must I say that, Ben?" "Yes, to be sure. If you are ashamed to say what's right, you may depend upon it you haven't much inclination to do it." "You have convinced me, Ben. I will humble myself. It is fit and proper that I should. So I will say as nearly as I can recollect just what you have told me to say." "You can't do better; and here we are at the corner of the street. Now if you would rather go in by yourself without me, only say the word, and I'm off." Mrs. Oakley hesitated for a moment and then she said "Yes, Ben, I would rather go alone." "Very good. I think it's better too, so goodby; and I'll call tomorrow and see how you are all getting on." "Do so, Ben. No one can possibly be more welcome than you will be. You will be sure to come tomorrow?" "Rather." With this Ben walked away, and Mrs. Oakley entered the house. What then passed we do not feel that we ought to relate. The humiliations of human nature, although for the best of purposes, and for the ultimate happiness of the parties themselves, are not subjects for the pen of the chronicler. Suffice it, that Mr. and Mrs. Oakley were perfectly reconciled, and were happy upon that day. CHAPTER CXVIII. TAKES A PEEP AT TOBIAS AT THE COLONEL'S HOUSE. The more stirring events of our story, have compelled us in some measure to neglect poor Tobias. He had suffered very much from that visit of Todd's to the colonel's house, and it had a very prejudicial effect upon his mind too, inasmuch as it deprived him of that feeling of security, which had before possessed him beneath that roof. The colonel felt this very acutely, and he could not help perceiving by Tobias's manner, that the faith he put in his assurance that Todd could not possibly again come near him, was not full and complete. Under these circumstances, then, it was a very great satisfaction to the colonel to be able to make the gratifying communication he had it in his power to make to Tobias, on the morning following the arrest of Todd and Mrs. Lovett. The illness contingent upon the fright that Todd had given the poor boy, or the relapse as we might call it, had in a great measure worn off, and if Tobias's mind could have been quite at ease, his recovery would have been as rapid as any one could possibly have wished or expected. As soon as he was up and about upon the following morning, then, after the arrests, the colonel sought Tobias's room, and with a cheerful smile upon his face he said "Well, Tobias, I come to bring you good news." "Indeed, sir?" said Tobias his colour coming and going in flushes. "I am very weak, andand if" "Come, come, Tobias. What I am going to tell you will strengthen you, I know. Todd is in Newgate!" Tobias drew a long breath. "Todd is in Newgate?" he replied. "Todd is in Newgate? The walls are very thick. I am safe now." "Yes, you are, indeed, Tobias. The walls of Newgate are thick, and the doors are massive and wellguarded. Be assured that Todd will never issue out at them but to his execution. Your old cunning enemy is at length more powerless by a great deal than you are, and from this moment you may completely banish all fear from your mind upon his account." "And the woman, sir, Mrs. Lovett?" "She is in Newgate likewise." "Both, both, and their crimes then are all known at last, and there will be no more murders, and no more poor boys driven mad as I was! Oh, God be thanked, it is indeed all over now, all over." With this Tobias burst into tears, and relieved his surcharged heart of a load of misery. In the course of about five minutes he looked up with such a great smile of happiness upon his face, that it was quite a joy to see it. "And you, sir, you," he said, "my dear friend have done all this!" "Not all, Tobias. I have helped in every way that lay in my power to bring the affair about, but it is Sir Richard Blunt the magistrate, who has toiled day and night almost in the matter, and who has at last brought it to so successful an issue, that the guilt of both Todd and Mrs. Lovett can be distinctly and clearly proved, without the shadow of a doubt." "Unhappy wretches!" "They are, indeed, Tobias, unhappy wretches, and may Heaven have mercy upon them. Some other old friends of yours, too, will, before nightfall I think, find a home in Newgate." "Indeed, sir, whom mean you?" "The folks at the madhouse at Peckham. Sir Richard would have had them apprehended some time ago, but he was afraid that it might give the alarm to Todd, before the affair was ripe enough to enable him to be arrested, with a certainty of his crimes being clearly understood and brought home to him. Now, however, that is all over, and they will be punished." "They are very, very wicked. I think, sir, they are almost worse than Sweeney Todd." "They are, if anything; but they will meet with their deserts, never fear; and as Minna Gray is expected every moment, so your mother tells me, I will not deprive you of the gratification of giving her the piece of news yourself. Of course, all the town will know it soon through the medium of the press; and Sir Richard Blunt, too, will be here in the course of the morning, to arrange with you concerning your evidence." "My evidence? Shall I be wanted?" "Yes, Tobias. Surely you would not like so notorious a criminal to find a loophole of escape, from the want of your evidence?" "Oh, no, noI will go. I have only to tell the truth, and that should never be denied for or against. I will go, sir." "You are right, Tobias. It is a duty you owe to society. If some one long ago, and before you even had the evil fortune to go into his shop, had found out and exposed the iniquities of Sweeney Todd, how much misery would have been spared in this world both to you and to others!" "Ah, yes, sir; and yet" "Yet what, Tobias?" "I was only thinking, sir, that what at times seems like our very worst misfortunes, at times turn out to be the very things that are the making of us." "Indeed, Tobias?" "Yes, sir. If I had not been Sweeney Todd's boy, and if he had not persecuted me in the way he did, I should never have known what it was to have the friend I now have in you, sir; and perhaps she whom I love so dearly, would not have thought so much of me, if she had not deeply pitied me for all that I suffered." "There is profound philosophy in what you say, my poor boy," replied the colonel; "and if we could only bring ourselves to think, when things apparently go wrong with us, that after all it is for the best, we should be much happier than we are now; but with our shortsighted wisdom, we hastily take upon ourselves to decide upon matters concerning the issues of which we know nothing, and so by anticipation we make ourselves pleased or sorrowful, when the precise contrary may be the real result." "Yes, sir," said Tobias, "I have had time to think of that, and of many other strange things, as I lay here." "Then you have done yourself some good, Tobias. But I hear a light footstep upon the stairs, and I will now leave you, for I can guess by that heightened colour that you hear it likewise, and I know that two may be good company but three none." Tobias would have said something deprecatory of the colonel leaving him, and he did begin, but with a smile his kind and hospitable friend took his leave, and Tobias soon had the satisfaction of relating to the young girl, whom he was so tenderly attached to, that nothing further was now to be feared from Sweeney Todd or from Mrs. Lovett. We may now leave Tobias in good company; and it was really surprising to those who have not made a habit of noting the intimate connection there is between the mind and the body, to see how from the very moment that he felt assured there was nothing further to apprehend from Sweeney Todd, Tobias's health picked up and improved. The absolute dread with which that bold impious bad man had inspired the boy, had been the sole cause of keeping him in so delicate a state. His dreams had been all of Todd; but now that word Newgate, in conjunction with Todd's name, was a spell that brought with it peace and security. Tobias, as he sat with the hand of the young and fair girl who had pleased his boyish fancy in his own, was now truly happy. When Johanna got home, after being escorted from Sir Richard Blunt's house in Craven Street by Colonel Jeffery, she found her mother at home, and not a little surprised was she to find herself suddenly clasped in that mother's arms, a most unwonted process for Mrs. Oakley to go through. "Oh, my child, my dear child!" sobbed the now repentant woman. "Can you forgive me as your father has done?" "Forgive you, mother? Oh, do not speak to me in such a way as that. It is quite a joy to find youyou are really my mother?" "You might well doubt it, my dear child; but the future is before us all, and then you will find that it was only when I could not have been in my right mind, that I preferred any place to my own home." Old Oakley wiped his eyes as he said to Johanna "Yes, my darling, your mother has come back to us now in every sense of the word, and all the past is to be forgotten, except such of it as will be pleasant to remember. Your good friend, and I may say the good friend of us all, Sir Richard Blunt, sent us a letter to say that you would be here tonight, and God bless him my child, for watching over you as he did." "Oh, how perilous an enterprise you went upon, my darling," said Mrs. Oakley. The door of the adjoining room was partially open, and from it now stepped forward Arabella, saying "It is I who ought to ask pardon of you all for advising that step; and you will grant me that pardon I am sure, if upon no other ground, upon that that I have suffered greatly for my folly and precipitation." "My dear Arabella," said Johanna, "you must not blame yourself in such a way. How pleased I am to find you here, my dear friend. Ah! at one time how little did we ever expect to meet all thus, in this little room!" Johanna and Arabella embraced each other, and while they were so occupied, big Ben came out of the room from whence Arabella had proceeded, and flinging his arms round them both, he made a great roaring noise, in imitation of the largest of the bears in the Tower collection. At the moment, Johanna was alarmed, and could not conceive what it was; but Arabella, who knew that Ben had been in the room, waiting for some opportunity of coming out in a highly practical manner, only laughed, and then Johanna knew in a moment who it was, and she cried "Ben, it is you!" "Yes, it's me," said Ben, "and I'm only astonished at you two girls fancying I was going to be quiet, and see all that kissing and hugging going on, and not come in for any of it. Don't kick now, for I must kiss you both, and there's an end of it. It's no use akicking." To the credit of both Arabella and Johanna we may state, that they neither of them kicked, but very quietly let Ben kiss them both. "Well," said Ben as he plumped himself down upon a chair after the salute. "Well!Murder! Where am I going to now?" "Dear me," said Mrs. Oakley. "All four legs of the chair are broken off, and Ben is on the floor." "Really, Ben," said Mr. Oakley, "you ought to be perfectly careful when you sit down." "Easy does it," said Ben. "I really thought I was going to kingdom come. Pull me, Johanna, my dear. Pull me up." Johanna shook her head, and declined the Herculean attempt, so that Ben had to scramble to his feet the best way he could, and then as he sat down upon the sofa which was sufficiently strong to withstand any shocks, Mrs. Oakley asked him what it was he had been upon the point of saying, when the chair had so very unceremoniously given way with him; but Ben had quite forgotten it, only he said he recollected something else that was quite as good, and that was that he ordered to come about that hour a foaming tankard of mulled wine, and then he winked at Mrs. Oakley and hoped she had no medicine in the house to put in it. "Oh, no, Ben," she said, "and if there isn't a knock at the door; and if you ordered it at the Unicorn's Tail, you may depend that's it." "Very good," said Ben, and then he proceeded to the door and found that it was the boy from the Unicorn's dorsal appendage with the spiced wine; and after whispering to bring a similar quantity in half an hour, and to keep on at it every half hour until further orders, Ben took it into the parlour, and a happier party than was there could not have been found in all London. CHAPTER CXIX. THE CRIMINALS IN NEWGATE.TODD'S ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE. It is grievous to turn from the contemplation of so pleasant and grateful a scene as that that was taking place at the old spectaclemaker's house, to dive into the interior of Newgate. But thither it is that now we would conduct the reader. The state of mind that Todd was in after his arrest, was one that such a man with such strong passions as he had was exceedingly unlikely to come to. It is difficult to describe it, but if we say that he was mentally stunned, we shall be as near the mark as language will permit us to be. He walked, and looked, and spoke very much like a man in a dream; and it is really doubtful whether, for some hours, he comprehended the full measure of the calamity that had befallen him on his apprehension. At Newgate they are quite accustomed to find this unnatural calmness in great criminals immediately after their arrest, so they take their measures accordingly. Sir Richard Blunt had given some very special instructions to the Governor of Newgate concerning his prisoner, when he should arrive and be placed in his custody, so everything was ready for Todd. How little he suspected that for two days and two nights the very cell he was to occupy in Newgate had been actually pointed out, and that the irons in which his limbs were to be encompassed were waiting for him in the lobby! He was placed in a small stone room that had no light but what came from a little orifice in the roof, and that was only a borrowed light after all, so that the cell was in a state of semidarkness always. Into this place he was hurried, and the blacksmith who was in the habit of officiating upon such occasions, riveted upon him, as was then the custom, a complete set of irons. All this Todd looked at with seeming indifference. His face had upon it an unnatural flush, and probably Todd had never looked so strangely well in health as upon the occasion of the first few hours he spent in Newgate. "Now, old fellow," said one of the turnkeys, "I'm not to be very far off, in case you should happen to want to say anything; and if you give a rap at the door, I'll come to you." "In case I want to say anything?" said Todd. "Yes, to be sure. What, are you asleep?" "Am I asleep?" "Why, he's gone a little bit out of his mind," said the blacksmith, as he gathered up his tools to be gone. The turnkey shook his head. "Are you quite sure you have made a tight job of that?" "Sure? Ay, that I am. If he gets out of them, put me in 'em, that's all. Oh, no! It would takelet me seeit would take about half a dozen of him to twist out o' that suit of armour. They are just about the best we have in the old stone jug." "Good." "Yes, they are good." "I mean very well. And now Mr. Sweeney Todd, we will leave you to your own reflections, old boy, and much good may they do you. Goodnight, old fellow. I always says goodnight to the prisoners, cos it has a tender sort o' sound, and disposes of 'em to sleep. It's kind o' me, but I always was tenderhearted, as any little chick, I was." Bang went the cell door, and its triple locks were shot into their hoops. Todd was alone. He had sat down upon a stool that was in the cell; and that stool, with a sort of bench fastened to the wall, was the only furniture it contained; and there he sat for about half an hour, during which time one of the most extraordinary changes that ever took place in the face of any human being, took place in his. It seemed as if the wear and tear of years had been concentrated into minutes; and in that short space of time he passed from a middle aged, to be an old man. Then reflection came! "Newgate!" he cried as he sprang to his feet. The chains rattled and clanked together. "ChainsNewgatea celldeath! Found out at last! At the moment of my triumphdefeateddetected! Newgatechainsdeath!" He fell back upon the stool again, and sat for the space of about two minutes in perfect silence. Then he sprang up again with such a wild yell of rage and mental agony, that not only the cell, but the whole of that portion of the prison, echoed again with it. The turnkey opened a small wicket in the door, which when it was opened from without, still was defended by iron bars across it, and peering into the cell, he said "Hilloa! What now?" "Hilloa!" shouted Todd. "Airair!" "Air? Why what do you mean by gammoning a fellow in that sort o' way for, eh? Haven't you got lots o' air? Well, of all the unreasonable coves as ever I comed across, you is the worstest. Be quiet, will you?" "Nono! Deathdeath! Give me the means of instant death. I am going madmadmad!" "Oh, no yer ain't. It's only yer first few hours in the stonejug that has comed over you a little, that's all, old fellow. You'll soon pick up, and behave yourself like any other christian. All you have got to do is never to mind, and then it's nothink at all, old chap." Clap went shut the little wicket door again. "Help! Help!" shouted Todd. "Take these irons off me. It is only a dream after all. Back, back you grinning fiendswhy do you look at me when you know that it is not real? Nono, it cannot be, you know that it cannot be real." "Be quiet will you?" shouted the turnkey. "Keep off, I say. All is well. Mrs. Lovett deadquite dead. The boy to die too. The house in a blazeall is well arranged. Why do you mock and joke at me?" "Well, I never!" said the turnkey. "I do begin to think now that he's getting queer in the upper story. I have heard of its driving some of 'em mad to be bowled out when they didn't expect it, more 'special when it's a hanging affair. I wonder what he will say next? He's a regular rum un, he is." "What have I done?" shouted Todd. "What have I done? Nothingnothing. The dead tell no tales. All is safequite safe. The grave is a good secret keeper. I think Tobias is dead toowhy not? Mrs. Lovett is dead. This is not Newgate. These are not chains. It is only the nightmare. Ha! ha! ha! It is only the nightmareI can laugh now!" "Oh, can you?" said the turnkey. "It's rather an odd sort o' laugh though, to my thinking. Howsomdever, there's no rule agin grinning, so you can go on at it as long as you like." "Mercy!" suddenly shrieked Todd, and then down he fell upon the floor of the cell, and lay quite still. The turnkey looked curiously in at him, through the little grating. "Humph!" he said, "I must go and report him to the Governor, and he will do whatsomdever he likes about him; but I suppose as they will send the doctor to him, and all that ere sort o' thing, for it won't do to let him slip out o' the world and quite cheat the gallows; oh dear no." Muttering these and similar remarks to himself, the turnkey went, as he was bound in duty to do upon any very extraordinary conduct upon the part of any prisoner in his department, to report what Todd was about to the Governor. "Ah!" said that functionary, the surgeon, "and I will soon come to him. I fully expected we should have some trouble with that man. It really is too bad, that when people come into the prison, they will not be quiet. It would be just as well for them, and much more comfortable for me." "Werry much, sir," said the turnkey. "Wellwell, he shall be attended to." "Werry good, sir." The turnkey went back and took up his post again outside Todd's door, and in the course of ten minutes or so, without making the least hurry of the subject, the Governor and the jail surgeon arrived and entered the cell. Todd was picked up, and then it was found that he had struck his head against the stone floor, and so produced a state of insensibility, but whether he had done it on purpose or by accident, they could come to no opinion. "Lay him on the bench," said the surgeon, "I can do nothing with him. He will come to himself again in a little while, I daresay, and be all right again in the morning." "He seems really, indeed, to be a very troublesome man," said the Governor to the surgeon. "Very likely. Have you a mind for a game of cribbage tonight, Governor? I suppose this fellow will hang?" "Yes, I don't mind a game. Yes, they will tuck him up." With this they left Todd's cell, and the turnkey closed the door, and made the highly philosophical remark to himself of "Werry good." Todd remained until the morning in a state of insensibility, and when he awakened from it he was very much depressed in strength indeed. He lay for about two hours gazing on the ceiling of his cell, and then the door was opened, and the turnkey appeared with a bason of milkandwater and a lump of coarse bread. "Breakfast!" he cried. Todd glared at him. "Breakfast; don't you understand that, old cock? However, it's all one to me. There it istake it or leave it." Todd did not speak, and the not over luxurious meal was placed on the table, or rather upon the end of the bench upon which he lay, and which served the purpose of a table. The moment Todd heard the door of the cell closed behind the turnkey, he rose from his recumbent posture, and, although he staggered when he got to his feet, he seized the bason, and at once, without tasting any of its contents, broke it against the corner of the bench to fragments. "I shall elude them yet!" he said. "They think they have me in their toilsbut I shall elude them yet!" He selected a long jagged piece of the broken bason, and dragging down his cravat with one hand, he was upon the very point of plunging it into his throat with the other, when the turnkey sprang into the cell. Todd In Newgate, Tries To Commit Suicide. Todd In Newgate, Tries To Commit Suicide. "Hold a bit!" he cried. "We don't allow that sort of thing here with any of our customers. You should have thought of those games before you got into the stone jug!" With one powerful blow, the turnkey struck the piece of the broken bason from the hand of Todd, and with another he felled him to the floor. "None o' your nonsense," he said; and then he carefully collected the pieces of the broken bason. "Why should you grudge me the means of death," said Todd, "when you know that you have brought me here among you to die?" "Contrary to rules." "In mercy, I ask you only to give me leave to take my own life, for I have failed in the object of my living." "Contrary to rules." The turnkey left the cell, then, as coolly as if nothing had happened, and carefully locked the door again, while he went to report the attempted suicide of the prisoner to the proper quarter. Foiled, then, in every way, Todd looked round the cell for some means of ridding himself of his life and his troubles together; but he found none. He then paced the cell to and fro like a maniac, as he muttered to himself "All lostlostlostall lost! Foiled, too, at the moment when I thought myself most securewhen I had made every preparation to leave England for ever! Oh, dolt that I was, not to have done so long ago, when I had halfay, when I had only a quarter of the sum that I should this day have fled with! In my dreams I have seen myself as I am now, and the sight has shaken me, but I never thought to be so in reality. Is there any hope for me? What do they know?what can they know?" Upon these questions, Todd paused in his uneasy walk in the cell, and sat down upon the low stool to think. His head rested upon his breast, and he was profoundly still. CHAPTER CXX. A LUNCHEON AT SIR RICHARD BLUNT'S.THE DOG AND HIS OLD FRIEND. We willingly leave Todd to his own reflections upon the disastrous state of his affairs, while we solicit the attention of our readers to the private house and office of Sir Richard Blunt again, in Craven Street.


The worthy magistrate had quite a party to lunch on that day, and he had fixed the hour as eleven when he wished to see his friends. Those friends consisted of Johanna Oakley, Mark Ingestrie, Mr. and Mrs. Oakley, Colonel Jeffery, Arabella Wilmot, and Big Ben, who was, at the special request of Johanna, gladly included in the party. A happier party than that could not very well have been found throughout the whole length and breadth of London; and there was but one slight shade of disquietude upon the face of Johanna, when she at times thought that at one o'clock she would have to attend the policeoffice at Bow Street to give her testimony against Todd the murderer. "Well," said Ben, "here we are aliveall alive, and as merry as so many grigs; and all I can say is, my tulips, that I will show the wild beasteses to anybody as likes to come to the Tower, free, gratis and for nothing. Take it easy, Mr. Ingestrie, and don't be casting sheep'seyes at Johanna. The little love of a thing ain't at all used to itindeed, she ain't; and the only person as she lets love her above a bit, and takes it easy with, is me; so don't come any nonsense." "But, Mr. Ben," said Mark, "I may look sometimes?" "Yes, now and then, if you take things easy." Old Mr. Oakley had got on his spectacles, and seemed as if he could not be done looking at Mark Ingestrie; and more than once, or twice, or thrice, the old gentleman would shake hands with him, telling him that he looked upon him quite as one risen up from the dead, in a manner of speaking. "Yes, sir, you may well, indeed, look upon me as such; but I hope now for long life and happiness." A glance at Johanna was sufficiently expressive of with whom he hoped for happinessand that glance was returned with one of those sweet endearing looks that only those who truly love can cast one upon another. "And I, too," said Colonel Jeffery, "put in my claim to the happiness of the future, for am I not blessed with one whom I feel that I can love!" "Stop!" said Arabella. "We won't have any conversation of this sort before company, colonel, if you please; so I will trouble you to be quiet." "I am all submission," said the colonel; "and I hope my humble conduct upon this occasion will be to you all, ladies and gentlemen, a good example of what I shall be when I am married." This was said in so comical a manner that the whole party laughed amazingly, and then Sir Richard Blunt said rather gravely "I expect two old friends here this morning." "Old friends?" said everybody, in surprise. "Yes. The one is the captain of the ship which brought poor Mr. Thornhill and his dog home, and who has been to Hamburgh with his vessel, and the other is the dog himself." At this moment an officer, for Sir Richard was quite wholly attended upon by the police at that private office of his, came in to say that a gentleman wanted to see him. "It is the worthy captain," said Sir Richard; "show him in at once." "If you please, Sir Richard," added the officer, "there is a man, too, with a great dog who wishes to see you, and the dog has been in the hall once, and walked off with a plate of cheesecakes and a pickled tongue that were coming in to your worship." A roar of laughter testified to the amusement which this freak of Hector's caused, and Sir Richard said "Well, I don't know any one who was so much entitled to be invited to lunch as Hector, and no doubt he thought so too; and as we had not the courtesy to open the door for him, and properly accommodate him, he has helped himself on the road, that's all." "Shall I admit him, sir?" "Yes, and the man who is with him. He is one of the witnesses who I trust will help to bring Todd to justice. Show them all in." In a very few minutes the captain of the vessel, with whom the reader had some slight acquaintance at the beginning of this most veritable narrative, made his appearance, and Colonel Jeffery warmly shook hands with him. The dog knew the colonel and the captain likewise, and was most vociferous in his joy to see them. It was an affecting thing then to see the creature pause suddenly in his manifestations of delight, and look sad and solemn, after which he uttered a dismal howl, and catching the colonel by the skirt of his coat, he tried to pull him towards the door of the room. "Poor fellow," said the captain, "he does not forget his master yet, I see." "No," said Colonel Jeffery, "nor never will. If he had his own way now, and we would follow him, I lay any wager he would take us to Sweeney Todd's shop." "In course he would, sir," said the ostler. "In course he would. Lord bless you, gemmen, if this here dog as I calls Pison, cos why he was pisoned, was only to get hold of Todd, I would not give much for his chances. You sees, gemmen, as I have kept him in good condition." "He does look well," said the captain. "Indeed it does you great credit," said Colonel Jeffery; "but his keep must cost something. There is my guinea towards it." The colonel placed a guinea in the ostler's hand, and his example was followed by all present, so that the ostler found himself growing quite a man of substance when he least expected it. "Lor, Pison," he said, "you'll be a fortin for a fellow yet, you will. But I hope, gemmen, as you don't mean to take him away, cos if that's the caper, here's the money agin, and I'd rather keep Pison. He's got fond o' me by this time, poor fellow, and I have got fond on him, as I hav'nt no other brothers and sisters or family of my own." "It would indeed be unfair," said the colonel, "to deprive you of him. But tell me, are you comfortable in your situation?" "Lor bless you, sir, it ain't much of a situation. Lots of hard work, and werry little for it." "Well, if you like to come into my service and bring Hector with youyou are welcome." "Oh, won't I, sir, above a bit. Why, Pison, we is promoted, old fellor. We is a going to a new place, where there will be no end of grub, old chap." "You shall not have any complaints to make in that department," said the colonel. "So then," said the captain, "it is quite clear that Mr. Thornhill was murdered by that rascal of a barber?" "Quite," replied Sir Richard Blunt, "and it is for that murder we mean to try Todd. If, however, by any chance, he should escape conviction upon that, we will be provided with two more indictments against him, so that he is tolerably well cared for; but the murder of Mr. Thornhill is what we mean ostensibly to go upon." "That's right, sir," said the ostler, "and I'll bring Pison as a witness to all the blessed facts. He'll settle the business, even if the jury is half as stupid agin as usual." "He will be committed for trial this morning," said Sir Richard Blunt, "for the murder of Mr. Thornhill; and that woman, Mrs. Lovett, will be arraigned as an accessory before the fact, so that there can be very little doubt of the fate of both of them; and if ever two notorious criminals deserved that the last dread sentence of the law should be carried out against them, Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett are those two." "They could not be worse," said the captain. "No, that would be impossible," remarked the colonel. "I shall be glad when this gloomy tragedy is over though. The public mind will soon be filled with it, and we shall hear of nothing but of Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett, with all their sayings and doings, for the next few months to come." "That is true enough," said Sir Richard Blunt. "But I don't think you will find any but one feeling upon the subject, and that will be one of universal condemnation." "Not a doubt of it." "There is another too who will suffer the just reward of his crimes," said the magistrate glancing at Mrs. Oakley. She shook her head and sighed, for she shrunk naturally from the awfully responsible share she was condemned to have in the conviction of Mr. Lupin. "I will do my duty," she said, "in that dreadful piece of business. The guilt of Lupin, although not so extensive as Todd's, is to the full as great." "It is indeed, madam." "Ah, yes!" said Ben. "They are a bad lot altogether, and the sooner they are hung up like a rope of ingions the better. Bless me, I always was delicate, and so was obliged to take things easy; but I have more than once looked into that horrid pie shop in Bell Yard, and thought I should like a smack of about fifteen or twenty of them, just to stay my stomach till I got home to the Tower; and what a mercy it was I never bought 'em." "It was, indeed, my friend," Sir Richard said. "Yes, you may say that, my dear, siryou may say that. With my very delicate stomach, I should have been as good as done brown if I had had 'em. I should have fallen a victim to the wild beasteses, the very next time as I went anear 'em; and all I can say is, as I shall be uncommon glad to show these creatures to any of this company, as will come to the Tower at feeding time." Ben had made this liberal offer so often that the company left off thanking him for it; but the ostler whispered to him "I'll come and bring Pison." "No, will you though?" said Ben. "Yes, to be sure I will. Who knows but he'd like to see them wild beasteses, as perhaps he has only heard of 'em in a wery promiscous sort o' way." "Not a doubt of it," cried Ben, "not a doubt of itonly when he does come you must tell him to take things easy, and not be discomposed at any of the roaring and bellowing, as the creatures sets up at times." "Oh, I'll hold him." "You needn't go for to hold him. Just you impress upon him afore he comes that easy does it, that's all you need do, and then he'll know very well what to do." "Won't I!" The conversation was rather breaking up into small fragments, when the magistrate rose from his seat. "Now then," said Sir Richard Blunt, "it is time for us to go to Bow Street, where I appear as a witness today, instead of as a magistrate." As he spoke, the clock in the office sounded the halfpast twelve. All the guests of the magistrate rose, for they knew that his duties were imperative. There was a tone of great gravity now about Sir Richard Blunt as he spoke "I fully expect," he said, "that Todd will be committed for trial and Mrs. Lovett likewise. Already she has made repeated applications to her attendants in prison, to be permitted to become evidence against Todd." "Which will surely not be permitted?" said the colonel. "Certainly not; the evidence against him is quite clear enough without the assistance of Mrs. Lovett, while the proofs of her criminality with him, are of too strong a character for her to be given any chance of escape." "She is a dreadful woman." "She is, indeed; but you will all of you soon see how she conducts herself now, for she will be brought up with Todd." CHAPTER CXXI. TODD IS COMMITTED FOR TRIAL, AND EXPECTS THE WORST. By the time the police office at Bow Street opened upon the morning, a wild vague, and uncertain sort of rumour had spread itself over London, concerning the discoveries that had been made at Todd's house in Fleet Street, and at Mrs. Lovett's in Bell Yard, Temple Bar. Of course, the affair had lost nothing from manytongued rumour, and the popular belief was, that Todd's house had been found full of dead bodies from the attics to the cellars, while Mrs. Lovett had been actually detected in the very act of scraping some dead man's bones, for tidbits to make a veal pie of. A dense crowd had assembled in Fleet Street, to have a look at Todd's now shutup house, and that thoroughfare very soon, in consequence, became no thoroughfare at all. Bell Yard too was so completely blocked up, that the lawyers who were in the habit of using it as a short cut from the Temple to Lincoln's Inn, were forced to take the slight round of Chancery Lane instead; and the confusion and general excitement in the whole of the neighbourhood was immense. But it was in Bow Street, and round the doors of the policeoffice, that the densest crowd, and the greatest excitement prevailed. There it was only with the greatest difficulty that the officers and others officially connected with the public office could get in and out of it as occasion required; and the three or four magistrates who thought proper to attend upon that occasion, had quite a struggle to get into the court at all. By dint of great perseverance, our friends, with Sir Richard Blunt, at length succeeded in forcing a passage through the crowd, to the magistrates private entrance, and having once passed that, they were no longer in the smallest degree incommoded. "Well, Crotchet," said Sir Richard, as he encountered that individual, "Have you been to Newgate this morning?" "Rather, Sir Richard." "Any news?" "No. Only that Todd has been a trying it on a little, that's all." "What do you mean?" "Why he's only petikler anxious to save Jack Ketch any trouble on his account, that's all, Sir Richard; so he's been trying to put himself out o' this here world, and shove himself into t'other, without going through all the trouble of being hung, that's all, sir." "I fully expected that both Todd and Mrs. Lovett would make some such attempts; but I hope the governor of Newgate has been sufficiently careful to prevent the possibility of either of them succeeding." "It's all right," added Crotchet. "I seed 'em both, and they is as lively as black beetles as has been trod on by somebody as isn't a very light weight." The doors of the court had not been opened, but when they were, the struggle for admission was tremendous, and it required the utmost exertions of the officers of the establishment to keep anything like a semblance of order. The few night charges were rapidly disposed of, and while a gentleman who looked very foolish, was fined five shillings for being drunk and disorderly the evening previous, a roaring shout from the mob in the street proclaimed the arrival of the two important prisoners from Newgate. Up to some time after his arrest, Todd, notwithstanding some stray words that would indicate a contrary state of things, fully believed that he had succeeded in murdering Mrs. Lovett, and it was not until the morning that he became aware of her escape from drowning in the Thames. It did not require a conjuror to tell the authorities that there would be some trouble in getting the prisoners to Bow Street, so it was thought better to make one job of it, and to place Todd and Mrs. Lovett in the same coach along with four officers. With this intent the coach was brought close to the wicketgate of Newgate, and Todd and Mrs. Lovett, well guarded, were brought to the lobby at the same moment. The moment Todd caught sight of Mrs. Lovett, a kind of spasm seemed to shake his frame, and pointing to her, he cried "Does that woman indeed live, or is she but some fiend in the shape of such a one come to torment me?" "That is Mrs. Lovett," said the Governor. "Oh, nonono," added Todd, "it is not soit cannot be. The dark rolling river cannot so give up its dead." "You were well disposed that it should not," said Mrs. Lovett, bending upon Todd a most ferocious glance. "She is saved!" gasped Todd. "Yes, I am saved to your confusion. I call you all to witness," she then added in a loud voice, "that I had no idea of the extent of Todd's iniquity; but what I do know I will freely tell as evidence for the crown against him." Mrs. Lovett looked peculiarly at the Governor while she uttered these words, for she was anxious to know what he thought of them, but that functionary took not the remotest notice. At this moment one of the warders announced the sheriff, and one of the Sheriffs of London with his gold chain of office on, appeared in the lobby. To him Mrs. Lovett immediately turned, saying "Sir, I offer myself as king's evidence. Do you understand me?" "Perfectly, madam; but I have nothing to do with the matter." "Nothing to do, sir? Then why do you wear that bauble?" "My office, so far as you are concerned, madam, will be to keep you in safe custody, and see that the sentence of the law is carried into effect upon you, in case you should be convicted of the crimes laid to your charge." "But I turn king's evidence. It is quite a common thing that you have all heard of that often enough." "Now, madam, the coach is ready," said a turnkey. "Where are you going to take me? Is not this Newgate?" "Yes, but you must undergo an examination at the policeoffice in Bow Street." Without any further ceremony, Mrs. Lovett was handed into the coach, and Todd after her. She was at first placed in the seat immediately opposite to him, but she insisted upon changing it, saying, that she could not bear to look at him all the way that she went, and as it was a matter of no moment which way she sat, the officers so far indulged her as to permit her to change her place. In this way then, both of them upon the same seat, while three officers sat opposite to them, and one with them, dividing them, they arrived at Bow Street, and were met by that roaring shout, that everybody had heard, from without the court. Of course every precaution had been taken to prevent the mob from wreaking their vengeance upon the criminals, which they were welldisposed to do. A number of people were knocked down and some of the officers rather roughly treated; but the result was, that Todd and Mrs. Lovett were got into the office in safety. Sweeney Todd, as he ascended the steps of the office, turned his head for a moment, and looked at the sea of angry faces that was in the street. He shuddered and passed on. Mrs. Lovett did not look round at all. With great difficulty the door of the office was closed, and then in a few moments Todd and Mrs. Lovett were placed side by side at the bar of justice. There was one person sitting on the bench near to Sir Richard Blunt, upon whom Todd fixed his eyes in amazement. That person was Johanna Oakley. The features came at once to his recollection, and as though he really doubted if he were awake or not, he more than once pressed his hand upon his eyes. Todd And Mrs. Lovett At Bow Street Police Office. Todd And Mrs. Lovett At Bow Street Police Office. His and every one else's attention were, however, speedily taken up by the conduct of Mrs. Lovett. The moment comparative order was restored in the crowded court, so that what she said could be distinctly and clearly heard, she spoke "I am willing to turn king's evidence upon this occasion, and to declare all I know of Todd's nefarious transactions. I am quite willing to tell allI don't perhaps know the full extent of Todd's guilt, but I repeat I will turn king's evidence, and tell all I do know." A gentleman, plainly dressed in black, rose new, and in a calm, assured voice, said "Upon the part of the crown I reject the offer of the female prisoner. Anything she may say will be used as evidence against her, if it bear that construction." "Reject?" cried Mrs. Lovett. "And pray, sir, who are you that you dare reject such a proposition for furthering the ends of justice?" "That, madam, is the AttorneyGeneral," said an officer. "Oh," said Mrs. Lovett, "and am I to understand that I am accused of any participation in Todd's crimes?" "You will find by the evidence that will be adduced against you of what you are accused," said the magistrate. "You, I believe, Sir Richard Blunt, give these people in charge?" "Yes," said Sir Richard rising. "I charge them with, in the first place, the wilful murder of Charles James Thornhill. If your worship should think fit, from the evidence that will be brought forward, to commit them upon that charge, I shall not at present trouble you with any others, although I am fully prepared with several." "What is the meaning of all this?" cried Mrs. Lovett. "I will be heard." Sir Richard Blunt paid no manner of attention to her, but brought before the magistrate quite sufficient evidence to warrant him in committing both the prisoners for trial. The only great effect that the proceedings seemed to have upon Todd consisted in his surprise when Johanna Oakley came forward, and to her examination he listened attentively indeed. When she related how, under the name of Charles Green, she had taken the situation of errand boy at Todd's shop, and been in daily communication with Sir Richard Blunt, Todd dashed his clenched fist against his own head, crying "DoltIdiotidiot! and I did suspect it once!" Johanna went on then to state how in hunting over Todd's shop and house for some vestige of Mark Ingestrie, the sleeve of a seaman's jacket was found, which she had thought belonged to him, but which would be identified by the captain of the ship as having been part of Mr. Thornhill's apparel when he went on shore upon that fatal morning of his murder, no doubt by Todd. The evidence against Mrs. Lovett consisted of the fact of there being an underground communication all the way from the cellars of Todd's house to her cooking concern; and Mark Ingestrie had quite enough to tell of that to make it tolerably clear they acted in concert. Of course there could be but one opinion in the minds of all present of the guilt of the prisoners; but it was necessary that that guilt should be legally as well as morally proved, and hence the evidence was very carefully arranged to meet the exigencies of the case. "Have you any legal adviser?" said the Magistrate to Todd. "No," was the brief response. The same question was put to Mrs. Lovett, but she did not answer, and the deathlike paleness of her countenance sufficiently testified that it was out of her power to do so. In another moment, overcome by dread and chagrin, she fainted. "Is she dead?" said Todd. No one replied to the question, and he added "Look to her well or she will yet baffle you. If ever the spirit of a fiend found a home in any human brain it is in that woman's. I say to you, look to her well, or she will still baffle you all by some rare device you little dream of." Mrs. Lovett in her insensible state was carried from the court, and a surgeon was in prompt attendance upon her. It was found that there was nothing the matter with her; she had merely fainted through sheer vexation of spirit at finding that her overtures to be evidence against Todd were not attended to in the way she had wished; for now, with the loss of everything but life, how glad she would have been to back out of those odious transactions which clung to her. Todd was asked if he had anything to say. "Really," he said. "I do not know what it is all about. I am a poor humble man, who get but a scanty living by shaving any kind customer, and all this must be some desperate conspiracy against me on the part of the Roman Catholic, I think." "The Roman Catholics?" "Yes, your worship. I never would shave or dress the hair of a Roman Catholic if I knew it, and more than one of that religion have sworn to be avenged upon me." "And is this your defence?" "Yes, exactly; it is all I can say; and if I perish, it will be as one of the most innocent of men who ever was persecuted to death." "Well," said the magistrate, "I have heard many a singular defence, but never one like this." "It'sit's truth," said Todd, "that staggers your worship." "Well, you can try what effect it will have upon a jury. I commit you for trial on the charge of wilful murder." "Murder of whom?" "Charles James Thornhill." "Oh, your worship, he is alive and well, and now in Havannah. If I have murdered him, where is the body?" "We are prepared," said the Attorney General, "with that objection. At the trial we will tell the jury where the body is." Mrs. Lovett, now having sufficiently recovered, was brought into court to hear that she was committed for trial, but she made no remark upon that circumstance whatever; and in the course of a few moments another shout from the multitude without announced that the prisoners were off to Newgate. CHAPTER CXXII. A LARGE PARTY VISITS BIG BEN AND THE LIONS IN THE TOWER. On the morning following the committal of Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd to Newgate for trial, a rather large party met at the office of Sir Richard Blunt, in Craven Street, Strand. The fact was that after the proceedings at the policeoffice, Big Ben had earnestly besought them all to name the day to visit him and the lions in the Tower, and as no day was so convenient to Sir Richard as that immediately following, it was arranged that they were all to meet at the private office in Craven Street, and go there by water to the Tower. The sun shone beautifully; and to look at that party no one would have supposed that there had ever been such persons as Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett in the world. The party consisted of Colonel Jeffery, Tobias, Mr. and Mrs. Oakley, Minna Gray, Johanna, Mark Ingestrie, Arabella Wilmot, and the fruiterer's daughter from Fleet Street, who had been so kind to Johanna during that very sad and anxious time that she had passed while in the temporary service of Todd. Tobias And Minna Rejoice At The Capture Of Todd And Mrs. Lovett. Tobias And Minna Rejoice At The Capture Of Todd And Mrs. Lovett. So happylooking and smiling a party surely could not have been found in all London, as they made up. It will be seen that there were no less than three couples intent upon matrimony, for although it was understood that Tobias was to wait two years yet before he married, he looked as happy as the rest. A large eightoared barge was at the stairs at the bottom of the street to convey them, and as they all walked to it arminarm, and in couples, everybody who met them would have it that it was a wedding, and many jocular remarks were made to them by the way. "Upon my word," said Sir Richard, "I shall be considered a matchmaker, and folks will say that I keep this office of my own only as a matrimonial speculation." "You certainly," said the colonel, "have been the cause of two or three matches, at all events, for, but for you, I doubt if any of us would have felt as we feel to day, Sir Richard." "He has restored Mark Ingestrie to me," said Johanna. "And my Johanna to me," said Ingestrie. "And my dear Minna to me," cried Tobias. "Stopstop!" cried Sir Richard. "And I am quite certain," said the colonel, "that I owe to him the joy of calling Arabella mine." Sir Richard Blunt came now to a halt, as he said "Stop, all of you, or I will not go one step further. If we get into this kind of talk, who is to say where it will end? Let us enjoy ourselves, and make it a rule to say anything but revert to the past. It has its joys and its sorrows, but it had better upon this occasion be left to itself." "Agreedagreed," said everybody. The barge was a very handsome one. Indeed Sir Richard Blunt had borrowed it of one of the city companies for the occasion, and beneath the gay awning they could all sit with perfect ease. And now in the course of another five minutes they were going down the river, quite at a slashing pace, towards the old Tower; and as they were animated by the many pleasing sights upon the river, their conversation soon became animated and spirited. "What is that?A wherry coming towards us from the Templestairs," said the colonel. All eyes were bent upon the wherry, which shot out from the little landingplace by the side of the Temple Gardens, and presently they, with one accord, cried out "It's Hector!" In truth Hector was there, but with him was the colonel's new groom, the late ostler, who had been so efficient a protector to the dog, and the captain of the ship, whom he knew so well. "Barge ahoi!" cried the captain. "Ayay!" shouted Ingestrie in reply, and the wherry shot alongside the barge. "Well," said the captain, "I do think for you all to go on such a party as this, and not ask me and Hector, is too bad." "But," said Sir Richard Blunt, "you told me you were going to be very busy at the docks." "So I did, but I found our owner had not come to town, and I have nothing to do today. I called at your house, colonel, hoping to be in time to come with you, but you had gone. Hector, however, saw me, and made such a racket I was forced to bring him." "And no one can be more glad to see you and Hector than I," cried the colonel. "And I didn't like, sir," said the ostler, "not for to come for to go, when Pison said as he'd like to come." "Very good," said the colonel smiling. "Come on board." The waterman who was with the wherry laid it alongside the barge, and having been liberally paid for his freight, rowed off again, leaving with the barge party, his two customers and the dog. The Tower was soon in sight, for at that time there were not by any means so many obstructions to the navigation of the River Thames as are to be found now, and the stream too was very much clearer than now it can boast of being. The host of manufactories that have since risen upon its banks were not then thought of. "I do think," said Colonel Jeffery, "that I can see our friend Ben at the landing place. Look, Mr. Oakley, is that not Ben?" "Bless you, sir," said Mr. Oakley, "I couldn't see so far if you would make me king of England for doing so. Johanna, my love, you have young eyes, and know Ben well." "Yes, pa, it is Ben, and he is waving his hand to us, and looks so pleased." "He is a most worthy honest fellow," said Sir Richard Blunt. "I like him very much, from what little I have seen of him. He has the simplicity of a child." "Yes," added the colonel, "and the candour and honesty of a lover of human nature. I believe a better heart than Ben's never beat in human bosom." "I am quite sure of it," said Johanna. "I love Ben very much indeed. He has been ever a kind and indulgent friend to me." "Do you hear that, Mr. Ingestrie?" said Arabella. "Yes," laughed Mark, "but I decline investing Ben with any of the attributes of a rival. Now, I love you, Miss Wilmot very much indeed, because you have always been such a dear kind friend to Johanna; and I daresay the colonel will permit me to do so." "To be sure I willat a distance," said the colonel. Everybody laughed at this, and then, as the rowers increased their exertions to come in to the Tower stairs with some eclat, the barge soon was safely moored at the landing place. "Here you are all of you," cried Ben, capering in his huge delight. "Here you all are. Come along. Oh, how hungry I am." "That sounds as if you meant to eat us, Ben," said Sir Richard, as he stepped from the barge. "Oh, dear no. Only I have got a little bit of lunch ready for you all, and as I helped to place it on the table it made me so hungry that I've been half mad ever since, and I'm as thirsty too as can be. Oh, Mr. Jeffery, I often think if the Thames were only strong ale, what a place the Tower would be." "You may depend," said Sir Richard, "if it were, the government would pretty soon bottle it all off." Johanna was going to step on shore, but Ben made a dash at her, and lifting her up as you would some little child, he seated her on his left arm, and so fairly carried her into the Tower. "You wait, Miss Arabella," he cried. "I'll come for you." This so alarmed Miss Wilmot that she sprang on shore in a moment, and all the party laughed heartily to see Mark Ingestrie flying along after Ben, and shouting as he went "Put her downput her down! Ben!Ben! She'd rather walk. Put her down!" Ben paid no manner of attention to any of these remonstrances, but carried Johanna right into the Tower before he set her upon her feet again, which he then did as tenderly as though she had been some infant, only just learning to walk. "Mind how you go," he said. "Take it easy. Easy does it." "But I can walk, Ben." "Very good. Mind how you does, you nice little thing. Oh, I likes you a great deal better in the petticoats and not the breeches." "Well, Ben," said Mark Ingestrie, "I am certainly very much obliged to youvery much, indeed." "Don't mention it, my boy," replied Ben, totally oblivious of the manner in which Mark Ingestrie uttered the wordsa manner which betrayed some little pique upon the occasion.