True, she lingered a little opposite to Todd's shop, and the idea came across her of rushing in, and saying, "Johanna, come away." But she controlled that feeling, from a conviction that she was doing better by going to the magistrate, who, if it were necessary to take that course, could take it much more effectually than she could. Essex Street was gained, and Arabella's trembling hand sounded an alarm upon the knocker. "Is Sir Richard within?" "No. But if you particularly want him, he is at his private office in Craven Street." To Craven Street then she sped. The number she had been told was 10, and upon the door of that house being opened, she asked a man who was big enough to block up all the passage, and who did so, for the magistrate. "Yes, but you can't see him. He's busy." "I must." "But you can't, my dear." "I will." The man whistled. "Will is a short word, my dear, for you to use. How do you mean to do it, eh?" A door opened, and with his hat on, ready to go out, Sir Richard Blunt himself appeared. Another minute and Arabella would have missed him, and then God knows where, for the next twelve hours, he would be. "What is this, Davis?" he said. "Here's a little 'un, says she will see you, Sir Richard." "Ah, thank God!" cried Arabella, rushing forward and catching a tight hold of the magistrate by the arm. "Yes, I will see you, sir; I have a matter of life and death to speak to you of." "Walk in," said Sir Richard. "Don't hurry yourself in the least, Miss. Pray be composed; I am quite at your disposal." Arabella followed him into a small room. She still kept close to him, and in her eagerness she placed her hand upon her breast, as she said "Sirsir. Youand you only. Todd, Toddoh, God! he will kill her, and I am more her murderer than he. JohannaJohanna, my poor Johanna!" Sir Richard slightly changed colour at the sound of those names; and then he said, calmly and slowly "I don't think, unless you can assume a greater command of your feelings, that you will ever be able to tell me what you came about." "Oh, yesyes." "Be seated, I pray you." "Yesyes. In a moment. Oh, how calm and unimpassioned you are, sir." "It would not do for us both to lose our judgment." Arabella began to feel a little piqued, and that feeling restored her powers to her, probably quicker than any other could have possibly done. She spoke rapidly, but distinctly. "Sir, Miss Johanna Oakley has gone to Sweeney Todd's to find out what has become of Mr. Mark Ingestrie, and I advised her to do so; but now the knowledge that I did so advise her has driven me nearly mad. It will drive me quite mad!" Sir Richard rose from the arm chair into which he had thrown himself, and said "'Miss Oakley?' said you? Whywhywhat folly. But she has gone home again." "No, she is disguised as a boy, and has taken the situation that Todd put a placard in his window about, and she will be found out of course, and murdered." "No doubt of it." "Oh, God! Oh, God! Is there no lightning to strike me dead?" "I hope not," said Sir Richard Blunt; "I don't want a thunder storm in my parlour." "But, sir" "But, Miss Wilmot. Is she there now?" "She isshe is." "When did she go?" "About two hours since. Oh, siryou must do somethingyou shall do something to save her, or I will run into the streets, and call upon any passenger I meet, that has the form of a man, to aid me; I will raise the town, sir, but I will save her." "That course would be about as wise as the original advice to Miss Oakley to go upon the expedition at all. Now answer me calmly what I shall ask of you." "I willI will." "What is the prime cause of action that Miss Oakley projects as the result of this disguised entrance into Todd's shop, provided he be deceived by it?" "To search the place upon the first opportunity for some relic of Mark Ingestrie, and so put an end to the torturing suspense regarding his fate." Sir Richard Blunt shook his head. "Do you think that Sweeney Todd would leave such relics within such easy acquisition and inspection? Is he the sort of man, think you, to expose himself to such danger? Oh, Miss Wilmot, this is indeed a hairbrained scheme." "It isit is, and I have come to you for aid, and" "Hush! Is the secret of this expedition entirely confined to you and to Miss Oakley?" "It isit is." "Will her friends not miss her?" "Nono. All has been arranged with what now I cannot help calling a horrible ingenuity. She is like one led to slaughter, and she will pass away from the world, leaving the secret of her disappearance to you and to me only. Sir, I am young, and there are those in this great city who love me, but if Johanna be not saved, I will no longer live to be the most wretched of beings. If there can be found a poison that will let me leave the world, to cast myself at the feet of God, and of Johanna in another, I will take it." Sir Richard looked at his watch. "An hour and a half, you say?" "More than that. Let me think. It was twelveyes, it was twelve. More you see, sir, than that. Tell me, sir. Tell me at once what can be done. Speakoh speak to me. What will you do?" "I don't know, Miss Wilmot." With a deep sigh Arabella fainted. It was seldom indeed that, even amid his adventurous life, the magistrate found a circumstance that affected him so strongly as that which Arabella Wilmot had related to him. For a short time, even he, with all his powers of rapid thought, and with all the means and appliances which natural skill and practice had given him to meet any emergency, could not think of any mode of escape from the peculiarly awkward position into which this frightfully imprudent step of Johanna had plunged him. "My good girl," he said. "Oh, she has fainted." He rung a handbell, and, when a man appeared in answer to the summons, he said "Is Mrs. Long within?" "Yes, Sir Richard." "Then bring her here, and tell her to pay every attention to this young lady, who is a friend of mine; and when she recovers, say to her that I shall return in an hour." "Certainly, Sir Richard." In a few moments a matronlylooking woman, who acted in that house as a sort of general manager, made her appearance, and had Arabella removed to a chamber. Before that, the magistrate had hastily put on his hat, and at a quick pace was walking towards Fleet Street. What he intended to do in the emergencyfor emergency he evidently thought it waswe shall see quickly. Certain it is that, even by that time, he had made up his mind to some plan of proceeding, and our readers have sufficient knowledge of him to feel that it is likely to be the very best that could be adopted under the circumstances. Certainly Johanna had, by the bold step she had taken, brought affairs to something like a crisis, much earlier than he, Sir Richard Blunt, expected. What the result will be remains to be seen. CHAPTER LXX. RETURNS TO JOHANNA. We left Johanna in rather an awkward situation. The two graziers were in Todd's shop, and sheat the pronunciation of the word "pearl," which had too forcibly at the moment reminded her of the String of Pearls, which no doubt had been fatal to Mark Ingestriehad dropped the soapdish, and covered her face with her hands. "What is this?" cried Todd. "What, sir?" "What is that, I say? What do you mean by that, you stupid hound? If I only" He advanced in a threatening attitude with a razor in his hand; but Johanna quickly saw what a fault she had committed, and felt that, if she were to hope to do any good by her visit to Todd's shop, she must leave all such manifestations of feelings outside the threshold. "I have broken it," she said. "To be sure you have; but" "And then, you see, sir, I was overcome at the moment by the thought that as this was my first day here, how stupid you would think me." "Stupid, indeed." "Poor little chap," said one of the graziers. "Let him off this once, Mr. Barberhe seems a delicate little lad." Todd smiled. Yes, Todd admirably got up a smile, or a something that looked like a smile. It was a contortion of feature which did duty for a piece of amiability upon his face; and, in a voice that he no doubt fully intended should be dulcet and delightful, he spoke "I'm quite a fool to my feelings and to my good nature," he said. "Lord bless you, gentlemen, I could not hurt a flynot I. I used at school to be called Affectionate Todd." "In joke?" said one of the graziers. "No, gentlemen, no; in earnest." "You don't say so! Well, my boy, you see no harm will come to you, as your master forgives you about the soapdish, and we are in no sort of hurry." "Well," said Todd, as he bustled about for another article in which to mix the lather. "Well, do you know, sir, I'm so glad to hear that you are in no hurry." "Indeed?" "Yes, sir; because, if you are strangers in London both of you, it will give you an opportunity of seeing some of the curiosities, which will do for you to talk of when you get home, you know." "Why, that would take too much time." "Not at all, sir. Now, for exampleCharley, my dear, whip up that latherthere's the church of St. Dunstan's, which, although I say itNow, Charley, look sharpis one of the greatest of London curiosities. The figures at the clock I allude to more particularly. I think you said the whiskers were to be left just as they are, sir?" "Yes." "Well then, gentlemen, if you have never seen the figures in the front of old St. Dunstan's strike the chimes, it's one of those things that it's quite a pity to leave London without watching narrowly. They may talk of the Tower, sir, or of the wild beasts at Exeter Change; but give me for a sight where there is real ingenuity, the figures striking the chimes at old St. Dunstan's." "Indeed?" "Yes. Let me see. Ah, it's just a half hour nearly now, and your friend can go, although you are being shaved, and then by the time you are comfortably finished off, the next quarter will be getting on. Charley?" "Yes, sir." "Put on your cap, and go with that gentleman to St. Dunstan's. You must cross over the way, and then you will soon see the old church and the two figures, as large as life, and five times as natural." Johanna took up the cap she had worn in her disguise, and stood by the door. "Why don't you go, Bill?" said the grazier who was being shaved. "Why, the fact is," said the other, "I would not give a pin's head to see it without you. Do you know, Mr. Barber, he makes such comical remarks at anything, that it's worth one half the fun to hear him? Oh, no, I can't go without him." "Very good," said Todd, "then I'll finish him off, and you shall both go together in a few moments, though I am afraid you will miss this time of the chimes striking." There was now a silence of a few moments' duration in the shop; but nothing in the shape of rage or disappointment was visible in the manner of Todd, although both of those passions were struggling at his heart. "Now, sir," he said at length, and with a whisk he took the cloth from under the grazier's chair. "That will do; I thank you, sir. Towel and plenty of water in that corner, sir." "Thank you." "No, I shall do," said the other grazier, in reply to a mute imitation from Todd to sit down in the shaving chair, "I shall do pretty well, I thank you, till tomorrow." "Very good, sir. Hope I shall have the pleasure of your patronage another time, as well as your recommendation, gentlemen." "You may depend," said the grazier, who had been shaved, "that we shall do all we can for you, and shall not lose sight of you." Todd bowed like a Frenchman, and the graziers left the shop. No sooner was the door closed upon them, than his countenance altered, as if by magic, and the most wofully diabolical expression came over it, as with eyes flashing with rage, he cried "Curses on you both! But I will have one of you, yet. May the bitterest curse ofbut, no matter, I" "What, sir?" said Johanna. "What do you say, sir?" "Hell's fury! what is that to you? Do dare you, you devil's cub, to ask me what I said? By all that's furious, I'll tear out your teeth with redhot pincers, and scoop your eyes from their gory sockets with an old oyster knife. Dn you, I'llI'll flay you!" Johanna shrank back aghast. The pure spirit of the young girl, that had been used to little else but words of love and kindness, started at the furious and brutal abuse that was launched at it by Todd. "Did I not tell you," he continued, "that I would have no pryingno peepingno remarking about this or the other? I'll crush the life out of you, as I would that from a mad dog!" A strange howling cry at the door at this moment came upon the ears of Todd. His countenance changed, and his lips moved as though he was still saying something, but he had not power to give it audibly. At length, somewhat mastering his emotion, he said "Whatwhat's that?" "A dog, sir." "A dog! Confound all dogs." Another howl, and a violent scratching at the door, was farther and most conclusive evidence of the canine character of the visitor. "Charley," said Todd, in quite a soft tone"Charley." "Yes, sir." "Take the poor dog something to eatoror to drink, rather I should say. You will find a saucer in yon cupboard, with some milk in it. Ifif he only, bless him, takes one lick at it, I shall be satisfied. You know, Charley, God made all things, and we should be good to his creatures." "Yes, sir," said Johanna, with a shudder. She went to the cupboard, and found the saucer, in which there seemed to be a drop of fresh milk. She walked to the door, while Todd, as though he did not feel by any means sure of the pacific intentions of the dog, at once rushed into his back parlour, and locked himself in. Todd had a peephole from the back parlour into the shop, but he could not see further than the shop door. Moreover, Johanna's back was towards him, so he could only guess at what was going on if the dog did not actually come across the threshold. That the milk which Todd was so solicitous should be given to the dog was poisoned, occurred to Johanna in a moment; and just before opening the door, she threw it into a corner, upon some loose shavings, and odds and ends of waste paper, that were there. Johanna then opened the door. In an instant Hector, the large dog of the unfortunate Thornhill, whose identity with Mark Ingestrie appeared to be so established in the mind of Johanna, sprang upon her with an angry growl. It was only for one brief moment, however, that Hector made any such mistake as fancying Johanna to be Sweeney Todd; and then he, with an affectionate whine, licked the hands of the young girl. "Pison! Pison!" cried a loud voice, and in another moment, the ostler, from the coachoffice opposite, rushed to the door, and caught the dog around the neck. "Ah, there ye is agin. Why, what a goose of a feller you is, to be sure, Pison. Don't you know, now, as well as I do, that that barber will do you a mischief yet, you great blockhead you? Come home, will yer? Come home, now. Come along wi' yer!" "Yesyes," said Johanna. "Take him awaytake him away." "Won't I, that's all. I suppose you are a young shaver? Only let me catch you ainterfering with Pison, that's all, and won't I let you know what's what, young feller." The ostler having uttered this most uncalledfor threat to poor Johanna, took Pison in triumph over the way. Johanna closed the door. "Is he gone?" said Todd. "Yes, sir." "And the milk? Is that gone, likewise?" "Every drop of it." "Ha! ha! ha! Wellwell. Only to think, now. Ha! ha! I hope that milk won't disagree with the noble animal. How fond I am of him! How often he has been over here, in his little pretty playful way, to try and bite pieces out of my legs. Bless him. If now that milk should give him a stomach ache, what a pity it would be. Did I hear a man's voice?" "Yes, sir; some man came and called the dog away." "How good of him, and what a pity it would have been if he had called the noble animal away before the milk was all consumed. Dear me, some people would grudge a creature a drop of milk. AhemCharley?" "Yes, sir." "I am going out." Johanna's heart beat rapidly. "If any one should come, you can say it is of no use their waiting, for I am gone to shave and dress a whole family, at some distance off, and may not be back for some hours; but, Charley, for your own private information, let me tell you that I may look in at any moment, and that, although I shall be busy, I shall be able to come in for a minute or so, when I am least expected." Todd gave an awful leer at Johanna as he spoke. "Yes, sir," she said. Todd carefully locked the parlour door. "Charley. How do you like your place?" "Very well, sir; and I think in a little time I shall like it better." "Good lad! Good lad! Well, well. Perhaps I ought not to say too much so soon, but if you merit my esteem, Charley, I shall do as much for you as I did for the last lad I had. After some term of service with me, I provided him with an independant home. A large house, and a garden. Ha!" "How very kind." "Yes. Very." "And is he happy?" "Quite, in a manner of speaking, notwithstanding human nature is prone to be discontented, and there are persons, who would sigh, if in Paradise, for some change, even if it were to a region supposed to be its opposite zone. Charley, however, I think will be of a different mind; and when your time comeswhich it certainly willHa!to reap the fruits of your service with me, I am sure that no one will hear you complain." "I will not be ungrateful sir." "Well, well, we shall see; and now while I am gone let there be no peeping or prying about. No attempts to open doors or force locks. No scrambling to look upon shelves or raking in odd corners. If you doIHa! ha! I will cut your throat, Charley, with the bluntest razor I have. Ha!" Todd had got on his gloves by this time, and then he left the shop. Johanna was alone! Yes, there she was, at last, alone in that dreadful place, which now for days upon days had been food for her young imagination. There she was in that place, which her waking thoughts and her dreams had alike peopled with horrors. There she was between those walls, which had perchance echoed to the last despairing death cry of him whom she had loved better than life itself. There she was in the very atmosphere of murders. His blood might form part of the stains that were upon the dingy walls and the begrimed floor. Oh, it was horrible! "God help me now! God help me now!" said Johanna, as she covered her face with her hands and wept convulsively. She heard a faint sound. It was the chiming of St. Dunstan's clock, and she started. It put her in mind that time, her great ally, now was fleeting. "Away tears!" she cried as she dashed the heavy moisture from her long eyelashes. "Away tears! I have been strong in purpose. I have already waded through a sea of horrors, and I must be firm now. The time has come. The time that I looked forward to when I thus attired myself, and thought it possible to deceive this dreadful man. Courage! Courage! I have now much to do." First she crept to the door and looked out into the street. A vague suspicion that Todd, after all, might only be watching near at hand, somewhere, took possession of her. She looked long and anxiously to the right and to the left, but she saw nothing of him. Then she fastened the door upon the inside. "If he should return very suddenly," she said, "I shall have notice of it by his efforts to open the door. That will give me a moment for preparation possibly." Then with such an anxious look as no language could do justice to in its delineation, Johanna looked round the shop. Where was she to begin her investigation? There were drawers, cupboards, chests, shelves. What was she to look at first? or was she in dread of some contrivances of Todd's to find out that she had looked at all, yet at this the last moment, forego the risk and rush into the street and so home? "No, no! I am in God's hands," she said, "and I will not flinch." And yet, although she felt that she was quite alone in that place, how cautiously she trod. How gently she touched one thing and then another, and with what a shudder she laid her hand for a moment to steady herself, upon the arm of the shaving chair. By so leaning upon it she found that it was a fixture; and upon a further examination of it, she found that it was nailed or screwed to the floor firmly. It was an old fashioned massive chair, with a wide deep reclining seat. A strange feeling of horror came over her as she regarded it. CHAPTER LXXI. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER. What was there in the chair that Johanna should for some few moments, now that she had begun to look at it, not be able to take her eyes off it? She tried to shake it, but it was as fast as a rock, and for all she knew it was quite usual to have a shaving chair fixed to the floor. In all likelihood it was in the best position for light which the dingy shop afforded. She left the chair at last, and then a large cupboard in one corner of the room attracted her attention. It was locked. In vain did she try to force it open. It would not yield. She tried, too, the parlour door without effect. That was quite fast; but as she turned the handle of the lock, she fancied she heard, or she really did hear something move in the room. A faint feeling came over her for a moment, and she was glad to hold by the wall, close at hand, to support herself. "It must have been fancy," she said faintly. "I am learning nothing, and the time is flying fast." A kind of counter ran parallel to the window, and beneath it was a space covered in by doors. Todd surely had forgotten that, for one of the doors was open. Johanna looked in and beheld quite a collection of sticks and umbrellas. Some clothing too lay upon the lowest shelf. With trembling hands, Johanna pulled at the sleeve of some article and found it to be a jacket, such as a sailor of the better sort might wear, for it was exquisitively fine, and had no end of silver buttons upon it. Her sight was dimmed by tears, as she said to herself "Oh, God! was this his?" She held the jacket up to the light, and she found the breast portion of it stained, and all the buttons there tarnished. What was it but blood? The blood of the hapless wearer of that article of dress, that produced such an effect; but yet how was she to prove to herself that it had been Mark Ingestrie? Then it was that the thought struck her of how ill conceived had been that undertaking, which might, in the midst of all its frightful dangers, only end in furnishing her with more food for the most horrible surmises, without banishing one sad image of her imagination, or confirming one dreadful dream of the fate of her lover. "'Tis all in vain!" she gasped. "All in vain! I shall know nothing, and only feel more desolate. It would be a mercy if that were to kill me! Ah! no. Not yetnot yet!" Some one was trying the handle of the shop door. With frightful energy Johanna hid the jacket, but not in its proper place, for she only thrust it beneath the cushion of a chair close at hand, and then shutting the door of the receptacle beneath the counter, she rose to her feet, and with a face pale as monumental marble, and her hands clasped rigidly, she said "Whowho is there?" "Hilloa! Open the door!" said a voice. Some one again tried the handle, and then kicked vigorously at the lower panel. "Patience," said Johanna, "patience." She opened the door. "Is Mr. Todd at hand?" said a lad. "Nono." "You are his boy, are you not?" "I am." "Then take this." The lad handed a sealed letter to Johanna, and in a moment left the door. She held the letter in her hand scarcely looking at it. Of course she thought it was for Todd, but after a few moments her eyes fell upon the superscription, and there, to her surprise, she read as follows "To Miss Oakley, who is requested to read the enclosed quickly, and secretly, and then to destroy it." Johanna Receives A Mysterious Letter In Todd's Shop. Johanna Receives A Mysterious Letter In Todd's Shop. To tear open the letter was the work of a moment. The sheet of paper tumbled in Johanna's hands as she read as follows "From Sir Richard Blunt to Miss Oakley. "Miss Oakley, the expedition upon which you are at present says much more for your courage and chivalrous spirit than it can ever say for your discretion or the discretion of her who permitted you so far to commit your life to such chances. You should, considering your youth and sex, have left it to others to carry out such schemes; and it is well that those others are aware of your position, and so, in a great measure, enabled to shield you from, perhaps, the worst consequences of your great indiscretion, for it cannot be called anything else. "Your young friend, Miss Wilmot, herself awakened, when, thank God, it was not too late, to the utter romantic character of the office, and communicated all to me. I blame both you and her very much indeed, and cannot speak in too strong language of the reprehensible character of your expedition; and now, my dear girl, do not be under any kind of apprehension, for you are well looked after, and Sweeney Todd shall not hurt a hair of your head. "If you should find yourself in any danger, seize the first small heavy article at hand and throw it, with all the strength you can, through the shop window. Assistance will immediately come to you. "And now, as you are where you are, I pray you to have confidence in me, and to remain until some one shall come to you and say 'St. Dunstan,' upon which you will know that he is a friend, and you will follow his directions. "God bless you. "Richard Blunt." Every word of this letter fell like sunshine upon the heart of Johanna, and she could not help mentally ejaculating "I am savedI am saved! Yesyes? I am not deserted. Strong, bold, good men will look to me. Oh! what kindness breathes in every sentence of this letter! Yesyes; I am not forsakennot forsaken!" Tears came into the eyes of the young girl, and she wept abundantly. Her overcharged heart was relieving itself. After a few moments she began to be more composed, and had just crumpled up the letter and cast it into the fire for fear of accidents, when a shadow darkened the doorway, she saw Todd looking in above the curtain that was over the upper half of the door, and partially concealed some panes of glass that were let into it. As soon as Todd saw Johanna's eyes upon him, he entered the shop. "What's that?" he said, pointing to the burning letter. "Paper, sir." "What paper?" "A bill that a boy left. Something about Churchwardens, sir, and the parish of St. Brides, Fleet Street, and how things mean to" "Bah! any one else been?" "No, sir." Todd stood in the middle of the shop, and cast his eyes slowly round him, to see that all was as he had left. Then in a low growling tone, he added "No peeping and prying, eh? No rummaging in odd corners, and looking at things that don't concern you, eh?" "Certainly not, sir." Johanna crept close to the counter upon which lay a tolerably large piece of stone used for grinding razors upon. She thought that would do very well to throw through the window, and she kept an eye upon it with that intent, if such an act should by a trick of Todd's appear to be necessary. Todd took the key of the parlourdoor from his pocket, and placed it in the lock. Before he opened the door, though, he turned the handle, and as he did so Johanna thought that he inclined his head and listened attentively. She threw down a chair, which made a lumbering noise. "Confound you," roared Todd. He passed into the parlour; but in a moment, with a glance of fury, he looked out, saying "You tried this door?" "I, sir?" said Johanna, creeping closer still to the sharpening stone. "Yes, villain, you. At least, I think soI am pretty sure; but mark me, if I were quite sure, you should suffer for it." He closed the door again; and then when he was alone, he placed his two hands upon his head for a few moments, and said "What does it mean? A boy brought him a letter; I saw him come and go. At least it looked like a letter. Could it be the bill he spoke of, and then the sudden upset of that chair, which prevented me from hearing if the piece of catgut I had fastened to the handle of the door had been moved, before I touched it or not. I will kill him. That is safe. It is the only plan; I will kill all who is now in my way. Allall. Yes, I will, if needs be, wade up to my neck in blood to the accomplishment of my wishes." Todd went to a cupboard and got out a large knife, such as is used by slaughtermen in the shambles, and hid it under the table cover, but in such a place that he could lay hold of it and draw it out in a moment. "Charley," he cried, "Charley." "Yes, sir." "Step in here a moment; I want you, my boy." "Shall I or shall I not," thought Johanna. "Is this danger, or only the appearance of it? Heaven direct me now! Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" "Charley? Are you coming, my boy?" "Yes, sir, II am coming. God protect me!" "The barber at home?" cried a voice at the door; and in another moment a man with a ruddy, jollylooking countenance, made his appearance in the shop. "Barber at home, eh? my little lad?" "Yesyes." Johanna heard a bitter execration come from the lips of Todd; and then with quite a serene smile upon his face, as though he were in the most unruffled mood possible, he made his appearance. "Could you make me a wig?" said the man, taking off his hat, and showing that his hair was closely cropped. "Certainly, sir. If you will sit down and allow me to measure your head, I shall have great pleasureCharley!" "Yes, Sir." "You can go to Lovett's, in Bellyard, and get your dinner now. There's twopence for you, my lad, and if you have not yet tasted Mrs. Lovett's pies, you will say when you do, that they are the most delicious things in the whole world of cookery." "Shaved, if you please," said another man, walking into the shop, and pouncing down upon a chair as though it were his own property. "Ah dear me, I'm tired rather. Don't hurry yourself, Mr. Todd, I can wait while you are doing what you have to do for that gentleman." "Charley," said Todd, with quite a sweet expression of face. "You need not go just yet; I want the hot water. See to it." "Yes, sir." Todd then, in the most careful and businesslike manner, proceeded to take the measure of the gentleman's head for a "real head of hair," and when he had finished, he said "Now, sir, if you will leave it all to me, I will match your hair to a shade." "Match it?" "Yes, sir." "But that's just what I don't want. I have had my hair all cut off, and am going to wear a wig, for the sole reason that I have got tired of the old colour." "Well then, sir, what colour do you propose now?" "A few shades lighter than my own. But pray shave this gentleman, and I will tell you how I wish it to look at my leisure." The man took a seat and crossed one leg over the other with the most home sort of look in the world; and the one who had come in to be shaved plumped into the shaving chair, and gave his chin a rub as though he would say "I don't care how soon you begin." Todd smiled. "Charley, the lather." "Yes, sir. Here it is." "Here, my little man," said the gentleman in want of a wig. "If you can tie a bow, just make one in front of my cravat.A small one." The gentleman slipped a small piece of paper into Johanna's jacket pocket. CHAPTER LXXII. ANOTHER VICTIM. Johanna started. "St. Dunstan's," said the stranger. "What?" said Todd. "St. Dunstan's last Sunday, I don't think was so highlyscented with the flavour of the grave as usual." "Oh," said Todd. Johanna trembled, for certainly Todd looked suspicious, and yet what could he have seen? Literally nothing, for he was so situated that the slight action of the stranger, in putting the slip of paper into her jacketpocket, must have escaped him with all his watchfulness. She gathered courage.


Todd glanced at her, saying "What is the matter, Charley? you don't look well at all, my lad." "I am not very well, sir." "How sorry I am; I think, do you know, Charley,"Todd was lathering the man's face as he spoke"that one of Mrs. Lovett's hot pies would be the thing for you." "Very likely, sir." "Then, I think I can manage now to spare you." As he said this, Todd bent an eagle glance upon the gentleman who had ordered the wig, and it seemed as if he doled out his words to Johanna with a kind of reference to the movements of that personage. The gentleman had found a hatbrush, and was carefully rubbing up his hat. "I do hope," he said, "that the wig will be as natural as possible." "Depend upon it, sir," said Todd. "I'll warrant if you look in here, and try it on some day when there's no one here but you and I to set you against it, you will never complain of it." "No doubt. Good morning." Todd made his best bow, accompanied by the flourish of his razor, that made the man who was being shaved shrink again, as the reflected light from its highlypolished blade flashed again in his eyes. "Now, Charley, I think you may go for your pie," added Todd, "and don't hurry, for if anything is wrong with your stomach, that will only make it worse, you know." "You are a good master to the lad," said the man who was lathered ready for shaving. "I hope so, sir," said Todd. "With the help of Providence we all ought to do our best in this world, and yet what a deal of wickedness and suffering there is in it too." "Ah, there is." "I am sure, sir, it makes my heart bleed sometimes to think of the amount of suffering that only twentyfour hours of this sad workaday world sees. But I was always of a tender and sympathetic turn from my cradleyes from my cradle." Todd made here one of his specially horrible grimaces, which the man happened to see in a glass opposite to him, the reflective focus of which Todd had not calculated upon; and then as the sympathetic barber stropped his razor, the man looked at him as though he would have speculated upon how could such an article looked in a cradle. "Now, sir, a little to this side. Are you going, Charley?" "Yes, sir." "That will do, sir. I'll polish you off very shortly, indeed, sir. Are you going, Charley?" Johanna darted from the shop, and the moment she got clear of it, she by natural impulse drew the little slip of paper from her pocket, and read upon it "Miss O. do not if you can help it leave any one alone in Todd's shop, as circumstances may prevent us from always following his customers in; but if you should be forced to leave while any one is there, knock at No. 133 Fleet Street. This is from your friend R. B." "133?" said Johanna, as she glanced around her, "133? Ah, it is close at hand. Herehere." The number was only a short distance from Todd's, and Johanna was making her way to it, when some one stopped her. "From Todd's," said a voice. "Yesyes. A man is there." "Alone?" "Yes, and" Before she could say another word the stranger darted from her, and made his way into Todd's shop. Johanna paused, and shrinking into a doorway, stood trembling like an aspen leaf. "Oh, Heaven!" she ejaculated, "into what a sea of troubles have I plunged. Murder and I will become familiar, and I shall learn to breathe an atmosphere of blood. Oh, horror! horror! horror!" The crowd in that dense thoroughfare passed on, and no one took heed of the seeming boy, as he wept and sobbed in that doorway. Some had no time to waste upon the sorrows of other people;some buttoned up their pockets as though they feared that the tears that stood upon that pale face were but the preludes to some pecuniary demand;others again passed on rapidly, for they were so comfortable and cosy that they really could not have their feelings lacerated by any tale of misery, not they. And so Johanna wept alone. Ding dong! ding dong! What is that? Oh, St. Dunstan's chimes. How long has she been from the shop? Shall she return to it, or fly at once and seek for refuge from all the sorrows and from all the horrors that surround her, in the arms of her father? "Direct me, oh God!" she cried. Some one suddenly clasps her arm. "Johanna! Johanna!" It was Arabella Wilmot. Johanna Disguised As A Boy, Is Found Weeping By Arabella, Near St. Dunstan's. Johanna Disguised As A Boy, Is Found Weeping By Arabella, Near St. Dunstan's. "Johannadear, dear Johanna, you are safequite safe. Come home nowoh, comeoh, comecome." "You here, Arabella?" "Yes, I am madmad!at least, I was going mad, Johanna; in my agony to know what had become of you, and notwithstanding I have told Sir Richard Blunt, I had no faith in the love and the courage of any one but myself. I was coming to Todd's." "To Todd's?" "Yes, dear, to Todd's. I could no longer exist unless I saw with my own eyes that you were safe." "What a fatal step that might have been." "It might. Perhaps it would; but God, in his goodness, has again, my dear Johanna, averted it by enabling me to meet you here. Come home nowcome at once." "Yes, II think" "Comecome;you have done already much. Let, for the future, your feelings be, that for Mark Ingestrie you have adventured what not one girl in a million would adventure." At this mention of the name of Mark Ingestrie, a sharp cry of mental agony burst from the lips of Johanna. "Oh, I thank you, Arabella." "Thank me?" "Yes, you have recalled me to myself. You have, by the mention of that name, recalled me to my duty, from which I was shrinking and falling away. You have told me in the most eloquent language that could be used that as yet I have done nothing for him who is, dead or alive, my heart's best treasure." "Oh, Johanna, you will kill me." "No, Arabellano. Good bye. Go home, lovego home, andand pray for mepray for me!" "Johanna, for mercy's sake! what are you about to do? Speak to me. Do not look upon me in that way. What are you about to to do, Johanna?" "Go to the shop." "To Todds?" "Yes. It is my placeI am in search of Mark Ingestrie. If he be living, it is I who must clear that man who is suspected of his murder. If he be no more, it is I, who weak and fragile as I am, must drag him to justice." "Nonono." "I say yes. Do not stay me if you love me." Arabella clasped the arm of Johanna, but with a strength that only the immense amount of mental excitement she was suffering from could have given her. Johanna freed herself from the hold of her friend, and dashing from the doorway, was in another moment lost to the sight of Arabella in the barber's shop. "What now?" cried Todd, fiercely, as Johanna bounded into the shop so hurriedly. "Nothing, sironly the dog." "Bolt the doorbolt the door." "Yes, sir." Todd wiped his brow. "That infernal dog," he muttered, "will be the death of me yet; and so, Charley, the malignant beast flew at you, did he? the savage will attack you, will he?" "Yes, sir, so it seems." "We will kill it. I should like to cut its throat. It would be a pleasure, Charley. How strange that strong poisons have no effect upon that dog. Curses on it!" "Indeed, sir." "None whatever. It is very odd." Todd remained in a musing attitude for some time, and then suddenly starting, he said "Charley, if that man come again after his wig, get him into talk, will you, and learn all you can about him. I have to go a little way into the city just now, and shall speedily return. I hoped you liked the pie?" "Pie, sir?" "Yes, Lovett's pie." "Oh, yesdelicious." "Ha! ha! he! he! ho!" Drawing on a pair of huge worsted gloves, Todd walked out of the shop without saying another word. The moment he was gone, Johanna passed both her hands upon her breast, as if to stay the wild beating of her heart, as she whispered to herself "Alonealone once more." It was well that she had only whispered that much, for in the next moment Todd gently put his head into the shop. She started. "Oh, siroh, sir, you frightened me." "Beware!" was all he said. "Beware!" The frightful head, more terrifying to Johanna than would have been the fabled Medusa's, was withdrawn again, and this time Johanna resolved to be certain that he was gone before she gave the smallest outbreak to her feelings, or permitted herself to glance around her in any way that could be construed into prying curiosity. She made a feint of clearing up the place a little, and, with a broom that had about six hairs only left in it, she swept the hobs of the little miserable grate in which a fire was kept for the shavingwater. This occupied some little time; but still not feeling sure that Todd was really gone, she then went to the door, and looked right and left. He was not to be seen; and so, when she went back, she bolted the shopdoor upon the inside again, and really felt that she was alone once more in that dreadful place. That poor Johanna was now in a great state of mental excitement is not a matter of surprise, for the events that had recently taken place were decidedly of a character to produce such a mental condition. The interview with Arabella had, no doubt, materially aided in such an effect. With trembling eagerness she now began again to look about her, and her great aim was by some means to get into the parlour, for if anywhere, she thought that surely there she should find some traces of that lost one who occupied, since the suspicions of the foul usage he had met with, a larger place in her affections than before. Feeling how surrounded she was by friends, probably Johanna was a little more reckless as regarded the means she adopted of carrying out her intention. The parlourdoor was quite fast; but surely in the shop she thought she might find some weapon, by the aid of which it could be burst open; and even if Todd should suddenly return, it was but a rush, and she would reach the street; and if he intercepted her in that, as God knew he might, she could take the means of summoning assistance pointed out to her by Sir Richard Blunt, and cast something through the window into the street. Full of these thoughts and feelings, then, and only alive to the mad wish she had of discovering some traces of her lover, Johanna hunted the shop over for some weapon with which to attack the parlourdoor. She opened a cupboard. A hat fell from within at her feet! One glance at that hat was sufficient; it was of a peculiar colourshe remembered it. It was the hat of the man whom she had left being shaved when she was sent ostensibly to purchase a pie at Mrs. Lovett's, in Bellyard. Johanna's hurry was over. A sickening feeling came over her as she asked herself what was the probable fate of the owner of the hat. "Another victim!another victim!" she gasped. She tottered back overpowered by the thought that there had been a time when, opening that cupboard door, the carelessly castin hat of Mark Ingestrie would have fallen to her feet, even as did that of the stranger, who, no doubt, now was numbered with the dead. She sank almost in a state of fainting into the shavingchair. "Oh, yes, yes," she said. "This is horribly, frightfully condusive. My poor Mark. You have gone before me to that home where alone we may hope to meet again. Alas! alas! that I should live to feel such a truth." She burst into tears, and sobbed so bitterly, that any one who had seen her would have truly thought her heart was breaking in that wild paroxysm of grief. What a mercy it was that Todd did not come in at such a moment as that, was it not? The sobs subsided into sighs. The tears no longer flowed in abundance; and after about five minutes Johanna arose, tottering and pale. She drenched her eyes and face with cold water, until the traces of the storm of emotion were no longer visible upon her face; and then she knelt by the shaving chair, and clasping her hands, she said "Great God, I ask for justice upon the murderer!" She rose, and felt calmer than before; and then, sitting down by the little miserable fire, she buried her face in her hands, and tried to thinkto think how she should bring to justice the man who had been the blight of her young existencethe canker in the rosebud of her youth. You would have been shocked if you could just for a moment have looked into Sweeney Todd's shop, and seen that girl in such an attitude, without a sigh and without a tear, while all her dearest hopes lay about her heart in the very chaos of a frightful wreck. CHAPTER LXXIII. STARTLING EVENTS. Business at Mrs. Lovett's was brisk. During the whole of that daythat most eventful day upon which the fair Johanna Oakley had gone upon her desperate errand to Sweeney Todd'sthe shop in Bell Yard had been besieged by customers. Truly it was a pity to give up such an excellent business. The tills groaned with money, and Mrs. Lovett's smiles and pies never appeared so perfect as upon that day. At about halfpast twelve o'clock, when the Lord Chancellor suddenly got up from his chair, in the great hall of Lincoln's Inn, and put on his furrylooking hat, and when the curtain which shuts in his lordship from invidious blasts was withdrawn with a screaming jerk, and a gentleman was stopped in the middle of an argument, what a rush of lawyer's clerks there was to the pieshop in Bell Yard. Then was it that the anxious solicitor's fag, who must know something, and have some brains, smiled at the prospect of the luxurious repast he was about to have, and jingled the twopence he had kept in a side pocket for only one pie, and grudged it not out of his hardearned pittance. Then was it that the bloated barrister's clerk, who had grown shining and obese upon fares, and who is not required to know anything but the complete art of insolence to his brothers, nor to have any more brains than will suffice him to make up his book in the long vacation, smacks his lips at the thought of Lovett's pies, and sends the expectant boy of the chamberthe snob of a snobfor three twopennies. Lean and hungrylooking young men start into Bell Yard from the Strand, producing crumbled pieces of paper, bag their twopenny, and retire to eat it in some corner of the old Temple. All is bustleall is animation, and the side counterthat one, you know, which ran parallel to the windowwas lined by clerks, who sat eating and driving their heels against the boarding, and joking, and laughing "Ha! ha!" how they did laugh! And then what stories they told of their "Governors;" and how such an one was going out of practice; and how such another one was a screw, and so on, to the great delight of the mere boys, who hoped one day to wear their hair long and grey, and to dress in an outrageous caricature of the mode! As the machine that let down at the back of the counter, to bring up the pies, went down for the one o'clock batch, it was noticed that Mrs. Lovett looked a little anxious. The fact was, that the cook had been so prompt upon that day in his movements, that she began to think there must be, as folks say, "Something in it," and she was beginning to terrify herself with the idea that he had some scheme of redemption for himself in view, that might most unseasonably develope itself before the customers. "Ah, Mrs. Lovett," said one young gent, while the gravy ran down the sides of his mouth from the pie he was consuming. "You don't seem at all yourself today. Indeed you don't." "Who do I seem, then?" "Ha! ha! Upon my life that's good!" roared another. A small amount of wit did for Lovett's pie shop. It was like the House of Commons in that particular, and "loud laughter" was sure to welcome the smallest joke. Mrs. Lovett's eyes were bent upon the abyss, down which the trap had descended but a moment before. "Ain't they acoming, mum?" said one. "Oh, don't I sniff 'em," said another, working his nose like an exchancellor. "Don't I sniff 'em." "Delicious!" cried another. A feeling of relief was visible upon the face of Mrs. Lovett as the trap slowly ascended, bringing with it the one o'clock batch, in all their steaming glory. The whole shop was in a moment filled with the fresh appetitegiving aroma of those bubbling hot pies; and as the French newspapers say, when a member of the extreme right, or half way to the left, or two degrees from the centre, swerves, there was "a sensation." Five minutesonly five minutesand the whole batch was cleared off, not one was left! "Another batch of one hundred, gentlemen, at two," said Mrs. Lovett, with a bland look. "At two, mum?" cried a customer. "Why, what's to become of the halfpast one batch?" "We are rather short ofof meat," said Mrs. Lovett, with one of her strange metallic smiles. "The devil you are! Ain't there butchers enough?" "Oh, dear, yes; but we could not get such meat as we put in our pies, at the butcher's." "You kill your own, mum, then, I suppose?" "We do," replied Mrs. Lovett, with another smile, more metallic than the former. "And where is your farm, mum?" "Really, sir, you want to know too much. I appeal to those gentlemen if any of them know where my farm is." "Nono. Dn it, no, nor don't care," said all the lawyer's clerks. "Don't know anything about it." "And don't care," said another. "Sufficient for the day is the pie thereof." "Very goodHa! ha!Very good." The crowd gradually dispersed. Mrs. Lovett put a placard in the window, announcing "A hot batch at two o'clock." She then closed the shop door, and retired to the parlour. She cast herself upon a sofa, and hiding the light from her eyes with one of her arms, she gave herself up to thought. Yes, that bold bad woman was beginning to have her moments of thought, during which it appeared to be as though a thousand mocking fiends were thronging around her. No holy thoughts or impulses crossed her mind. Solitude, that best of company to the good and just, was to her peopled with countless horrors; and yet there must have been a time when that woman was pure, and her soul spotlessa time when it was free from "The black engraved spots" which now deformed it. And yet who, to look upon her now, could fancy that she was ever other than what she seemed? Who could bring themselves to think that she had not been placed at once by the archfiend as she was upon the beautiful world, to make in the small circle around her a pestilence, a blight, and a desolation? There are persons in the world that it would be the greatest violence to our feelings ever to attempt to picture to our imaginations as children; and as such, surely were Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett. Was she ever some gentle little girl, fondly clinging to a mother's arms? Was he ever a smiling infant, with pretty dimples? Was there at his or her birth much joy? Did a mother's tears ever fall upon his or her cheek, in sweet gratitude to God for such a glorious gift? Nono. We cannotwe will not believe that such persons as Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett ever came into this world otherwise than readymade man and woman! Any other belief, concerning such fiends in human shape is too repugnant. But we are forgetting that Mrs. Lovett is upon the sofa all this while, and that her metallic smile has quite vanished, giving way to such a look of utter abandonment of spirit, that you would have shuddered to have cast but one glance upon her. She could bear the quietude of the attitude she had assumed but for a very short time, and then she sprang to her feet. "Yes," she said, "it must, and it shall come to an end!" She stood for some few moments trembling, as though the dim echo of that word end, as she had jerked it forth, had awakened in her mind a world of horrifying thoughts. Again she sank upon the couch, and speaking in a low, plaintive voice, she said "Yes. I have need of the waters of oblivion, one draught of which shuts out for ever all memory of the past. Oh, that I had but a cup of such nectar at my lips!" Not a doubt of it, Mrs. Lovett. It is the memory of the wicked that constitutes that retribution, which is assuredly to be found in this world as day follows night. "II must have this," she muttered. "Let Todd be dead or alive, I must have it. I am going madI feel certain. That I am going mad, and the only way to save myself, is to flee. I must collect as much money as I can and then flee far away. If I cannot quite obliterate the past from my memory, I can at least leave it as it is, and add nothing to it. Yes, that man may live. He seems to bear a charmed life. But I must flee." She rested her head upon her hands, and in a softer voice, said "Let me thinklet me think of the means, now that I have yet a little time. What do I dread most? The man below? Yes. He is at work for his deliverance. I feel that he is, and if he succeed before I flee from here, all is lostall is lost! I must speak to him." Filled with this idea, and with an unknown dread of what the discontented cook might do, Mrs. Lovett stepped into the shop first, and made the door fast by slipping a bolt at the back of it. It was not very often that immediately after the disposal of a batch of pies any customers came in, and if they should attempt to do so for the purpose of purchasing any stale pies, she was by far too intent upon what she was come about, and considered it by far too important to heed what they might think or say upon finding the door fast. She then opened the seeming cupboard in the parlour, which conducted to the strong iron door, with the small grating at the top of it. She reached that point of observation with great rapidity, and peered into the cavernous dungeonlike bakehouse. At first she could see nothing by the uncertain light that was there, but as her eyes got accustomed to the absence of daylight, she could just see the figure of the cook sitting upon a stool, and apparently watching one of the fires. "It is a longlong time." "What is a long time?" cried Mrs. Lovett. The captive cook sprang to his feet in a moment, and in a voice of alarm, he said "Who spoke? Who is that?" "I," replied Mrs. Lovett. "Do you not know me?" "Ah," said the cook, directing his eyes to the grating above the door, "I know you too well. What do you want with me? Have I failed in doing your bidding here? Have I disappointed you of a single batch of those execrable pies?" "Certainly not, but I have come to seeifif you are quite comfortable." "Comfortable! What an insult!" "Nay, you wrong me." "That is impossible. This is the commencement only of some new misery. Speak on, madam. Speak on. I am helpless here, and condemned to suffer." Notwithstanding these words of the cook there was a certain tone of hilarity about him, that Mrs. Lovett might well be surprised at, and she asked herself what does he hope. The fact is that much as he wished still to enact the character of a man full of despair, the cook could not get out of his head and heart the promises of Sir Richard Bluntpromises which still rung in his ears, like a peal of joy bells. "Come, come," said Mrs. Lovett, "you are getting reconciled to your fate. Confess as much." "I reconciled? Never." "But you are not so unhappy?" "Worseworse. This apathetic condition that I am now in, and which to you may look like the composure of resignation, will end, in all likelihood, in raging madness." "Indeed?" "Yes, madam, I feel already the fire in my brain." "Be calm." "Calmcalm! Ha!ha! Calm. It is all very well for you upon that side of the iron door to talk of calmness, madam, but upon this side the words sound strange." "It will not sound so strange when I tell you that I have absolute compassion upon you, and that the cause of my present visit was to talk to you of some means by which the worst portion of your fate here might be in some measure ameliorated, and your existence rendered tolerable." CHAPTER LXXIV. BIG BEN CREATES A SENSATION. The cook was so surprised at these words from Mrs. Lovett that for some moments he made no answer to them. "Pray, speak again," he said at length, when he could find words in which to express himself. "I repeat," she said, "that I am desirous, as far as lies in my power, to ameliorate your condition, of which you so much complain." "Indeed!" "Ah, you are too suspicious." "Humph! I think, madam, when you come to consider all things, you will hardly think it possible for me to be too suspicious." "You are wrong again. I dare say now, in your mind, you attribute most of your evils to me." "Well, madam, candidly speaking, should I be far wrong by so doing?" "You would be quite wrong. Alas! alas! I" "You what, madam? Pray, speak up." "I am the victim of another. You cannot suppose that, of my own free will, I should shut up in these gloomy places a person of your age, and by no means illlooking." "I have him there," thought Mrs. Lovett; "what human heart is proof against the seductions of flattery? Oh, I have him there." The cook was silent for some few moments, and then he said, quite calmly, as though the tribute to his personal appearance had not had the smallest effect "Pray go on, madam, I am quite anxious to hear all that you may have to say to me." This composed manner of meeting her compliments rather discomposed Mrs. Lovett; but after all, she thought"He is only acting an indifference he is far from feeling." With this impression she resolved to persevere, and she added, in a kind and conciliating tone of voice "I grant that circumstances are such that you may well be excused for any amount of doubt that you may feel regarding the honesty of my words and intentions towards you." "I quite agree with you there, madam," said the cook. "Then all I have to do is, by deeds, to convince you that I am sincere in my feelings towards you. As I have before said, I am in the power of another, and therefore is it that, contrary to my nature, I may seem to do cruel things at which my heart revolts." "I cannot conceive anything so distressing," said the cook, "except being the unfortunate victim as I am of such a train of circumstances." "That is what I am coming to." "Are you? I wish you were." There was a tone of irony about the enforced cook which Mrs. Lovett did not at all like; but she had an object to gain, and that was to fully persuade him that the shortest way to his freedom would be to remain profoundly quiet for a day or two, and then she would be able to make her own arrangements and be off without troubling either him or Todd with any news of her departure or her whereabouts. "You still doubt me," she said. "But listen, and I think you will soon be of opinion that although I have wronged you as yet, I can do something to repair that wrong." "I am all attention, madam." "Then, in the first place, you are quite tired of eating pies, and must have some other kind of food." "You never said a truer thing in all your life, madam." "That other food, then, I will provide for you. You shall, within an hour from now, have anything to eat or to drink that you may please to name. Speak, what is it to be?" "Well," he said, "that is kind indeed. But I can do without food further than I have here, for I have hit upon a mode of making cakes that please me. Nevertheless, if you can bring me a bottle of brandy, in order that I may slightly qualify the water that I drink, I shall be obliged to you." "You shall have it; and now I hope you will be convinced of the sincerity of my desire to be of service to you." "But my liberty, madam, my liberty. That is the grand thing after all that I must ever pant for." "True, and that is what you shall have at my hands. In the course of two, or it may be three days, I shall have perfected some arrangements which will enable me to throw open your prison for you, and then" "Then what?" "May I hope that you will not think so harshly of me as you have done?" "Certainly not." "Then I shall be repaid for all I do. You must believe me to be the victim of the most cruel circumstances, of which some day you may be informed. At present, to do so, would only be to involve both you and myself in one common destruction." "Then don't mention it." "I will not. But beware of one thing." "What is that?" "Simply this, that any attempts upon your own part to escape from here previous to the time when I shall have completed my arrangements to set you free, will not only derange all that I am planning for you, but end in your utter destruction; for he who has forced me into my present cruel situation will not for one moment hesitate at the murder of us both; so if you wish to be free in a few days you will try nothing, but if on the contrary you wish to destroy both yourself and me, you will make some attempts to rescue yourself from here." Mrs. Lovett waited rather anxiously for his answer to this speech. "I dare say you are right," he said at length. "You may be assured I am." "Then I consent." Mrs. Lovett drew a long breath of relief, as she muttered to herself "It will doI have him in the toils; and come what may, I am free from the torturing thought that he may achieve something that may have the effect of delivering me up to the hands of justice. When I am gone, he may remain where he is, and rot for all I care.""You have done wisely," she said aloud, "and if anything could more powerfully than another incite me to the greatest exertions to liberate you, it would be the handsome manner in which you have placed confidence in me." "Oh, don't mention it." Again there was that tone of sarcasm about the cook's voice, which created a doubt in the mind of Mrs. Lovett if, after all, he was not merely playing with her, and in his heart utterly disregarding all that she said to him. It is quite questionable if this doubt was not in its bitterness worse than the former anxieties that had preyed upon the mind of the lady; but she found she could do nothing to put an end to it, so she merely said "Well, I feel much happier now; so I will go at once and get you the brandy that you ask for." "I hope he will drink it freelyit will aid him in drowning reflection." "Thank you," said the cook, "I shall expect it with impatience." "Confound her, she can't very well put anything queer in the brandy. I will take care to taste a very small portion of it first; for Sir Richard Blunt has cautioned me particularly to be careful of poison." "I am going," said Mrs. Lovett. "Goodbye, madam; I only hope you will be able to carry your benevolent intentions into effectand," added the cook to himself, "that I may some fine morning have the pleasure of seeing you hanged." "Farewell," said Mrs. Lovett; and she, too, had her aside as she ascended the stairs, for she muttered"If I were only a little better assured than I am that you meditated something dangerous, I would steal upon you while you slept, and with a knife soon put an end to all trouble regarding you." Mrs. Lovett Alarmed At The Strange Faces At Her Window In The PieShop. Mrs. Lovett Alarmed At The Strange Faces At Her Window In The PieShop. Now, it happened that when Mrs. Lovett reached her shop, she saw three people outside the window. The actions of these people attracted her observation. One was a big stout man, of such a size as was rarely seen in the streets of London. The other was a young girl, nicely attired, but with a look of great grief and agitation upon her countenance. The third person of the group was a gentlemanlylooking man, attired in a great coat which was buttoned up to his chin. The big stout man was making a kind of movement towards the door of the pieshop, and the gentleman with the greatcoat was holding up his hand and shaking his head, as though forbidding him. The big stout man then looked angry; and then Mrs. Lovett saw the young girl cling to him, and heard her say "Oh, nono; I said I wanted nothing.Come away." Then the gentleman with the greatcoat pulled his collar down a little; upon which the young girl sprang towards him, and, clasping his arm, cried in tones of intense interest "Ah, sir, is it indeed you? Tell me is she savedoh, is she saved?" "She will be," was the reply of the gentleman in the greatcoat. "Come away.


" The big stout man appeared to be getting rather furious at the idea of the gentleman with the greatcoat dictating what he and the young girl should do; but she by a few words pacified him; and then, as if they were the best friends in the world, they all walked away towards the Strand, conversing very seriously and rapidly. "What does this mean?" said Mrs. Lovett. Terror overspread her countenance. Oh, conscience! conscience! how truly dost thou make "Cowards of us all!" What could compensate Mrs. Lovett for the abject terrors that came over her now? What could recompense her for the pang that shot across her heart, at the thought that something was amiss in the finedrawn web of subtlety that she and Sweeney Todd had drawn? Alas! was the money in the Bank of England, upon which she expected to enjoy herself in a foreign land, now any setoff against that shuddering agony of soul with which she said to herself "Is all discovered?" Her strength forsook her. She quite forgot all about the cook, and the brandy she had promised himshe forgot even how necessary it was, in case any one should come, for her to keep up the appearance of composure; and tottering into the backparlour, she sunk upon her knees on the floor, and shook as though the spirit of twenty agues possessed her. So it will be seen that Todd was not quite alone in his sufferings from those compunctious visitations, which we have seen at times come over him in his shop. But we will leave Mrs. Lovett to her reflections, hoping that even she may be made a little wiser and a little better by those soft "Whisperings of awakened sense;" and that she may find some one among the invisible hosts of spirits of another world who may whisper to her "Repent! repent!it is not yet too late." Let us look at those three persons whose mysterious conduct at the shop windows had, like a match applied to gunpowder, at once awakened a fever in the breast of Mrs. Lovett, which she was scarcely aware slumbered there. These folks made their way, then, into Fleet Street; and as the reader has probably guessed already who they are, we may as well make a merit of saying that the big one was our old friend Ben, the beefeaterthe gentlemanlylooking man was Sir Richard Blunt, and the young lady was no other than Arabella Wilmot. Poor Arabella! Of all the personages concerned in our dramatis person, we have no hesitation in saying that your sufferings are the greatest. From the moment that Johanna had started upon that desperate expedition to Sweeney Todd's, peace left the bosom of her young friend. We have already traced the progress of Arabella to Sir Richard Blunt's office, and we have seen what was the result of that decidedly judicious movement; but notwithstanding she was assured over and over again subsequently by Sir Richard that Johanna was now well protected, she could not bring herself to think so, or to leave the street. It was by her lingering about in this way that she became in the company of our friend Ben. The fact was, that the kind of statement or confession that Johanna had made to Ben on that occasion of his visit to her father's house, when she found herself alone with him in the parlour, had made such an impression upon the poor fellow, that he described it himself in the most forcible possible language, by saying "It interferes with my meals." Now, everything that had such an effect as that, must to Ben be a matter for the most serious consideration indeed. He accordingly, finding that "The peace of the Tower was fled," so far as he was concerned, had come into the City upon a sort of voyage of discovery, to see how matters were going on. As he was proceeding along Fleet Street, he chanced to cast his eyes into the entrance of a court, nearly opposite Sweeney Todd's, and there he saw a female form crouching. There was something about this female form which Ben thought was familiar to him, and upon a close look, he felt certain it was Johanna's friend, Arabella Wilmot. Full of surprise at finding her there, Ben paused, and stared at her so long, that she at last looked at him, and recognising him, immediately flew to his side, and grasping his arm, cried "Oh, pity me, Mr. Ben. Pity me!" "Hold!" said Ben, who was not, as the reader is aware, the fastest thinker in the world. "Hold. Easy does it." Ben tried to look very wise then. "Oh, you will hate me, Ben." "Eh?" "I say you will hate me, Ben, when you know all." Ben shook his head. "Shan't do any such thing," he said. "Lord bless your pretty eyes, I hate you? I couldn't." "Butbut" "Come, come," added Ben, "just take your little bit of an arm under mine. Easy does it, you know. Always think of that, if anything goes amiss. Easy does it; and then you will find things come right in the long run. You may take my word for it." CHAPTER LXXV. COLONEL JEFFERY OPENS HIS EYES. Arabella was weeping, so that for some little time she could say nothing more to Ben; and he did not, in the profundity of his imagination, very well know what to say to her, except now and then muttering the maxim of "Easy does it," which Ben thought singularly applicable to all human affairs. But this was a state of things which could not last; and Arabella Wilmot, nerving herself sufficiently to speak in a few minutes, said to Ben in a low selfdeprecatory tone "Oh, sir, IIhave done something very wrong." "Eh?" said Ben, opening his eyes to their utmost. "Yes," added Arabella, "very wrong, indeed." "Humph!" "You would not probably have expected it of me, Mr. Ben, would you now?" "Well, ahem!" said Ben. "Easy does it." "I am a wickedwicked girl." "Oh, dearoh, dear!" said Ben. "You cannot guess, Mr. Ben, what I have done; but I feel I ought to tell you, and it will be quite a relief to me to do so." Ben shook his head. "I tell you what it is, my dear," he said. "Your best plan is to go and tell your mother, my dear. That's the proper person to tell. She is sure to find it out somehow or another; and you had better tell her at once, and thenEasy does it." "My mother? Tell my mother? Oh, nonono!" "Well, if you have got any respectable old aunt now, who is a good, kind old soul, and would not make too much fuss, you had better tell her; but goodness gracious, my dear, what puts it into your head to tell me?" "Because I think you are kindhearted." "Well, butwell, but" "And, then, of course, as you are mixed up, you know, Mr. Ben, in the whole transaction, it is only proper that you should know what has happened at last." Ben turned fairly round, and looked down into the face of Arabella Wilmot with such a coarse expression of alarm upon his face, that at any other than so serious a time she must have laughed. "Me?" he cried. "Me?" "Yes, Mr. Ben." "Me mixed up in thetheOh dear!" "Ah, Mr. Ben, you know you are by far too kind not to be; and so I feel as though it would be quite a relief to me to tell you everything." "Everything?" "Yes, allall." "Not all the particulars, surely. Comecome. I ain't an old woman, you know, my dear." "An old woman, Ben?" "No, my dear, I say I ain't an elderly female, so I don't think I ought to listen to all the particulars, do you know. Comecome, you go home now, and say no more about it to me. Easy does it, you know; and keep your own counsel. I won't say a word; but don't you, because you are in such a state of mind as you hardly know what you are about, go on blubbering to me about all the particulars, when perhaps tomorrow you'll give one of your pretty little ears that you had not said a word to me about it." "Alas!Alas!" "Pho! Pho! Easy does it." "Who am I to cling to but you?" "Cling to me? Perhaps you'll say it's me?" "What's you, Mr. Ben? Explain yourself. How strange you talk. What do you mean, Mr. Ben?" "Well, that's cool," said Ben. "What's cool?" "I tell you what it is, Miss Arabella W., I'm disappointed in you; ain't you ashamed to look me in the face?" "Ashamed?" "Yes, positively ashamed?" "No, Mr. Ben. I may regret the indiscretion that is past; but I cannot see in it anything to be ashamed of." "You don't?" "Indeed, Mr. Ben, I do not." "Then, Miss A. W., you are about the coolest little piece of goods I have met with for some time. Comecome, easy does it; but haven't you been telling me all this time about something you have been about, thatthatwas rather improper, in a manner of speaking?" It might have been the tone in which Ben pronounced the word improper, or it might have been the sagacious shake of the head which Ben accompanied his words with, or it might have been that Arabella was drawing a conclusion from the whole transaction; but certain it is, that she began to have a glimmering perception that Mr. Ben was making a great mistake. "Oh, heaven!" she said. "What are you saying Mr. Ben? I am speaking of the advice I was foolish enough to give Johanna." "Advice?" "Yes, that is all. Into what mischief could you have tortured my meaning? I am much mistaken in you, sir." "What? Then, it isn'tahem! That is to say, you haven'tdear me, I shall put my foot in it directly. What a fool I am." "You are, indeed," said the now indignant Arabella, and a slight flush upon her cheeks showed how deeply wronged she was by the unworthy construction Ben had put upon her innocent words. "Goodbye, Miss A. W.," added Ben. "Goodbye; I see I am out of your books; but if you fancy I meant any harm, you don't know me. God bless you. Take care of yourself my dear, and go home. I won't stay to plague you any longer. Goodbye." "Stop! Stop!" Ben paused. "I am sure, Mr. Ben, you did not mean to say a single word that could be offensive to a friendless girl in the street." "Then, then?Easy does it." "Let us be friends again then, Mr. Ben, and I will tell you all, and you will then blame me for being so romantic as to give Johanna advice which has induced her to take a step which, although my reason tells me she is now well protected in, my imagination still peoples with horror." Ben's eyes opened to an alarming width. "You recollect meeting us in this street, Ben?" "Oh, yes." "When Johanna was disguised?" "Yes, Miss A. When she had on them, ahem! You may depend upon it, my dear, there's no good comes of young girls putting on pairs of thingamys. Don't you ever do it." "But, Mr. Ben, hear me." "Wellwell. I was only saying. You stick to the petticoats, my dear. They become you, and you become them, and don't you be trusting your nice little legs into whatdoyoucall'ems." "Mr. Ben?" "I've done. Easy does it. Now go on and tell us what happened, my dear. Don't mind me. Go on." "Then Johanna, in boy's cloathes, is now" "Now? Oh, the little vixen. Didn't I tell her not." "Is now filling the situation of errand boy at Sweeney Todd's, opposite. Can I be otherwise than wretched, most wretched!" "Arrant boy?" "No, not arrant boy. Errand boy." "At Todd'soppositeinboysclothes? Ohohjust you wait here, and I'll soon put that to rights. I'llI'll. Only you wait in this doorway, Miss A. W., just a moment or two, and I'll teach her to go and do such things. I'llI'll" "Nono Ben. You will ruin all, you will, indeed. I implore you to stay with me. Let me tell you all that has happened, and how Johanna is protected. In the first place, Ben, you must know that Sir Richard Blunt the Magistrate has her under his special protection now, and he says that he has made such arrangements that it is quite impossible she can come to any harm." "But" "Nay, listen me out. He says that nothing can now expose her to any danger, but some injudicious interference. I ought not, you see, to have told you, Mr. Ben; but since I have, I only ask of you, for Johanna's sake, for her life's sake, to do nothing." Ben looked aghast. "Andand how long is the little lamb to be left there?" he asked. "Only a few hours I think now, Benonly a few hours. Where are we now, Mr. Ben?" "Why, this, my dear, is Bellyard we have strolled into; and that is the famous pieshop of which they talk so much. They say the woman has made an immense fortune by selling them." As Ben made a kind of movement towards Mrs. Lovett's window, it was then that Sir Richard Blunt, who had followed him and Arabella Wilmot from Fleetstreet, and who had, in fact, overheard some portion of their conversation, stepped up in the manner that Mrs. Lovett had remarked from within the shop. We have before stated that the three personages, consisting of the magistrate, big Ben the beefeater, and Arabella Wilmot, walked to Fleetstreet together from Bellyard. Sir Richard Blunt shook his head at Arabella Wilmot, as he said "Miss Wilmot, I cannot help saying that it would have been better in every respect, and possibly much more conducive to the safety of Miss Oakley, if you had gone home quietly, and not lingered about Fleetstreet." "I could not go, sir." "But yet a consideration for Miss Oakley's safety should have induced you to put that violence upon your own feelings." "I felt that when once you, sir, had pledged yourself for her safety, that safe she was; and that my weeping perchance in a doorway in Fleetstreet could not be so important as to compromise her." "I am fairly enough answered," said Sir Richard Blunt, with a slight smile. "But what say you to coming with me to the Temple?" "The Temple?" Arabella cast a lingering look towards Todd's shop, which Sir Richard at once translated, and replied to it by saying "Fear nothing for your young friend. She knows she is protected; but even she does not know the extent to which she is so protected. I tell you, Miss Wilmot, that I pledge my own life for her safetyand that, although to all seeming she is in the power of Todd, such is not the case." "Indeed?" "I have a force of no less than twentyfive men in Fleetstreet nowone half of whom have their eyes upon Todd's shop. By Heaven! I would not have a hair of that young and noble girl's head injured for the worth of this great kingdom!" "Bravo!" cried Ben, as he seized Sir Richard by the hand, and gave it a squeeze that nearly brought the tears into the eyes of the magistrate; "bravo! that's what I like to hear. All's right. Bless you, sir, easy does it. You are the man for my money!" "Will you both come with me, then?" "To be sure," said Ben; "to be sure; and as we go along, I'll tell you what a sad mistake I made about Miss Arabella here. You must know that I met her crying in Fleetstreet, and she" Arabella shook her head, and frowned. "Andandandshenothing." "Well," said Sir Richard, "I must confess I have heard anecdotes with a little more point to them." "You don't say so!" said Ben. "I think I will go home," said Arabella, gently. "If you will," replied the magistrate, "of course, I cannot say anything to stay you; but I think it will be a great disappointment to Colonel Jeffery not to meet with you today." "Colonel Jeffery!" exclaimed Arabella, while her face became of the colour of a rosebud; "Colonel Jeffery?" There was just the ghost of a smile upon the face of Sir Richard Blunt, as he calmly replied "Yes; I am on my way to meet that gentleman in the garden of the Temple; and I am sure he would be glad to see you." "Glad to see me?" "Yes, as so true a friend of Johanna's, he will be more than glad; he will be delighted." "Delighted?" "Do you doubt the Colonel's friendly feeling towards you?" "Oh nono. Inocertainly not." "Then let me beg of you to come." "No. Not now; I will go home. It will look particular for me to go to the garden to meet him." "It will look much more particular to refuse, I think, Miss Wilmot. You are with me, and with your old friend, and Johanna's relative, Mr. aa" "They calls me Ben." "Mr. Ben; and so you cannot refuse," he said, "to go to meet Colonel Jeffery, you know. Come, come, I pray you come. Indeed, I know the Colonel wishes to speak to you; and as it would be obviously out of order for him to call upon you, I think you ought, seeing that you're not alone, to give him, as a gentleman of wealth and honour, this opportunity of doing so." "You say, he wishes to speak to me?" "He does, indeed. What do you say, Mr. Ben? Don't you think Miss Wilmot might as well come with us?" "Easy does it," said Ben, "and that's my opinion all the world over." "Then allow me to look upon it that we have prevailed with you, Miss Wilmot. Pray do me the favour to take my arm." Arabella trembled, but she did take the arm of Sir Richard Blunt, and made no further opposition to proceeding to that Temple Gardens, where already such affecting interviews had taken place between the Colonel and poor Johanna. The gardens appeared to be empty when they reached it, but from behind some shrubs Colonel Jeffery in a moment made his appearance, for Sir Richard, in consequence of his meeting with Ben and Arabella, was considerably behind his time. CHAPTER LXXVI. ARABELLA AND THE COLONEL. If any one had been looking at the face of Arabella Wilmot at this particular juncture, and if the party so looking had chanced to be learned in reading the various emotions of the heart from the expression of the features, they might have chanced upon some curious revelations. It was only one glance that Arabella gave to the Colonel, but that was sufficient. A word slightly spoken, and in due season, may say more than a volume of preaching; and so one transient glance, fleeting as a sunbeam in an English April, may, with most eloquent meaning, preach a sermon that would puzzle many a divine. But we have become so familiar with the reader, and put ourselves upon such a cordial shakehands sort of feeling, in particular with you, Miss, who are now reading this passage, that we will whisper a secret in your ear, and the more readily, too, as to whisper we must come particularly close to that soft downy cheek, and almost be able to look askance into those eyes in which the light of Heaven seems dancing,Arabella Wilmot is in love! Yes, Arabella Wilmot is in love with Colonel Jeffery; and small blame to her, as they say in Ireland, for is he not a gentleman in the true acceptation of the term? Not a manufactured gentleman, but one of nature's gentlemen. You will have promised, my dear what'syourname, that Arabella, to herself even, has hardly confessed her feelings; but still they are creeping upon her most insidiously as such feelings somehow or other will and do creep. To be sure, if any one were to stop her in the street or any where else to say, "Arabella, you are in love with Colonel Jeffery," she would say"No, no, no!" many times over. But yet it is true. "You read it in her glistening eyes, And thus alone should love be read She says it in her gentle sighs, And thus alone should love be said." After this, who will be hardy enough, my dear, to dispute the fact with you and I? And now we will watch her, ay, that we will, and see how she will behave herself under such trying circumstances. Colonel Jeffery advanced, and as in duty and gallantry called upon, he, after slightly bowing to the gentlemen, spoke to Arabella. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Wilmot," he said. "I hope I see you well. Here is a seat close at hand. May I have the pleasure of conducting you to it?" "Johanna isisis" stammered Arabella. "Well, I hope," interposed the colonel. "Oh, nonothat is, yes." The colonel looked puzzled. He was not a conjurer, and so might look puzzled, if he looked like any ordinary man, who hears any one say no, and yes in the same breath, without any injury to his reputation. "Mr. Ben," said Sir Richard Blunt, "I have something for your private ear, if you will just step on with me." "My private ear?" said Ben with a confused look, as if he would have liked to add, "which is that?" "Yes. This way if you please." Ben walked on with the magistrate, and Colonel Jeffery was alone with Arabella Wilmot. Yes, alone with the one person who insensibly had crept into her affections. Alas! Is the pure love of that young creature scattered to the winds? Is she one of those who drag about them in this world the heavy chain of unrequited affection? We shall see. Arabella had permitted the colonel to hand her to one of the gardenseats near at hand. How could she prevent him? If he had chosen instead to hand her into the river it would have been just the same, and she would have gone. He led her by that wreath of flowers which in old Arcadia was first linked by Cupid, and which, in all time since, has wound itself around the hearts of all the boygod's victims. "Miss Wilmot," said the colonel, and now his voice faltered a little, "I have much wished to see you." "Very fine, indeed," said Arabella. "You said something about the weather, did you not?" "Not exactly," he said; "I had much wished to see you." "Me?" "Yes, and to begin at the beginning, you know IIloved Johanna Oakley. Yes, I loved her." "Yesyes." "I loved her for her beauty, and for the gentle and the chivalrous devotion of her character, you understand. I loved her for the very tears she shed for another, and for the very constancy with which she clung to the memory of his affection for her. I saw in her such childlike purity of mind, such generosity of disposition, such enchanting humanity of soul, that I could not but love her." "Yes, yes," gasped Arabella. "Yes." "Will you pardon me for saying all this to you?" "Oh yes. Go ongo on, unless you have said all?" "I have not." "Then, then you have only to add that you love her still?" "Yes, but" Arabella's heart beat painfully. "Ah," she said, "has true love any reservations? You love her, and yet you have something else to say." "I have. I love her still. But it is not as I loved her. She has convinced me of her constancy to her first affection, thatthat" "Yes, yes." "That being so convinced, I now love her, but with that love a brother might feel for a dear sister, and I almost think it was a kind of preparation to try to awaken in the smouldering fires of her lost love a new passion. She has made me feel that the love of woman once truly awakened is an undying passion and can know no changeno extinction." "True. Oh, how true!" "I have learnt from her that when once the heart of a young and gentle girlone in whom there are no evil passions, no worldwise failings nor earthly varietiesis touched by the holy flame of affection, it may consume her being, but it never can be extinguished." Arabella burst into tears. "Love," added the colonel, "may be trodden down, but like truth it can never be trodden out!" "Never! never!" sobbed Arabella. "Let me go now! Oh, sir, let me go home now?" "One moment!" She trembled, but she sat still. "Only a moment, Arabella, while I tell you that man's love is different from this. That man can reason upon his affections, and that when the first beauty and excellence upon which he may cast his eyes is denied to his arms, he can look for equal beautyequal excellenceequal charms of mind and person in another, and" Arabella tried to go, but somehow she felt spellbound and could not rise from that garden seat. "And," added the colonel, "with as pure a passion, man can make an idol of her who can be his, as he approached her who could not.Miss Wilmot, I love you!" "Oh, no, noJohanna." Colonel Jeffery Declares His Love For Arabella. Colonel Jeffery Declares His Love For Arabella. "I do not shrink from the pronunciation of that name; I have said that I loved Johanna. If she had been fancyfree and would have looked upon me with eyes of favour, I would have made her my wife; but such was not to be, and for the same qualities that I loved her I love you. I am afraid I have not explained my feelings well." "Oh, yes. That is, I don't know." "And now, Miss Wilmot, will you allow me to hope that what I have said to you may not be all in vain? That" "No, no." "No?" "Allow me to go, now. My mind is too full of the fate of Johanna even to permit me to reject in the language taught" "Reject?" "Yes," she said, "reject. I wish you all the happiness this world can afford to you, Colonel Jeffery." "Then you will be mine?" "No, no, no. Farewell." She rose, and this time the colonel did not attempt to detain her. He stepped back a pace or two, and bowed, and then rose and walked a pace or two away. Then she turned, and holding out her hand, she cried "We maymay be friends." The colonel took the little hand in silence, but the expression of his face was one of deep chagrin. "Goodbye," said Arabella. How courageous she had become all of a sudden, as it were. "And is this all?" said Jeffery. "Yes, all. When I see Johanna I will remember you to her." The colonel bowed again, as he replied "I shall be much beholden to you, Miss Wilmot, for that kindness." "Andand I hope you will findfindthat is, meet with some one, whowho don't chance to know that your love is a kind of secondhandthat is, I don't mean that, but aaYes, that is all." Arabella was saying too much. The colonel replied gently "I am truly obliged for the highly explanatory speech just uttered by Arabella Wilmot, whom I have the honour to wish a very goodday." Arabella trembled. "No, no. Not thus, Colonel Jeffery. We are friends, indeed." "Remarkable good acquaintances," said the colonel, as he walked away towards Sir Richard Blunt and Ben. Arabella walked hastily on, having but one idea at the moment, and that was to leave the garden, but she could not find the gate, and Ben ran after her as well as he could, calling "Miss A. W.Miss A. W., where are you agoing? Don't you go yet. I'll take care of you and see you all right, you know, or perhaps you'd like to take a wherry here at the Temple stairs, and go to the Tower, and see the animals fed?" "Yes, nothat is, anything," replied Arabella. "I will go home now, I am so veryvery wretched!" "What, wretched? Here, Colonel thingumy, she says she" "If you dare!" said Arabella, as she placed her hand upon the arm of Ben. "If you dare!" "Lor!" said Ben, as he looked down from his altitude upon the frail and beautiful young creature. "Lor! easy does it!" The voice of Ben, however, had brought both the colonel and Sir Richard Blunt to the spot. During that brief time that had elapsed since the colonel had last spoken to Arabella, Sir Richard had told him of the perilous position of Johanna, and the look of anxiety upon his face was most marked. Arabella heard him say "Make use of me in any way you please, Sir Richard. Regard my safety or even my life as nothing compared to her preservation." Arabella knew what he meant. "Ben," she said, "will you come with me, and see me a part of my way home?" "Yes, my dear, to be sure. Then you won't come and see the criturs fed today, I supposes?" "No, no." "Very well. Easy does it. Come along, my dearcome along. Lord love you! I'll take care of you. I should only like to see anybody look at you while you are with me, my duck. Bless your little bits of twinkling eyes!" "Thank youthank you." "Lor! it's enough to make a fellow go mad in love, to see such criturs as you, my dear; but whenever I thinks of such things, I says to myself'I'll just pop in and see Mother Oakley,' and that soon puts it all out of my head, I can tell you." "Indeed?" "Yes. You should go in at feeding time some day, and see her acoming it strong with fried ingins." "Fried what?" "Inginsingins; round things. Ingionsah! that's it." "Onions?" "Very likevery like. But come on, my dearcome on. Easy does it! Always remember that whenever you gets into any fix. Easy does it!" Did Arabella think the colonel would run after her and say something? Yes she did; but he came not. Did she think he would be loath to part with her upon such terms as they had seemed to part? Yes, yes. Surely he could not let her go without some kinder, softer, word that he had last spoken to her? But he did. He only watched her with his eyes; and when Sir Richard Blunt, who, it would appear, knew something of the colonel's feelings, said to him "All right, I suppose, Colonel Jeffery?" He only shook his head. "What, anything amiss?" "She has rejected me!" "Oh, is that all?" "All? And enough too." "Phoo! She was sure to do that. Don't you know the old adage, that "Woman's nay still stands for nought." "Why, man, No comes as naturally to the tip of a young girl's tongue when she means Yes, as Don't when she expects to be kissed. I tell you, she loves you. She adores the very ground you walk on." "And yet she taunted me with my passion for Johanna, and called me a secondhand lover." "Did she, though? Ha! ha! ha! ha! Upon my life that was goodwas it not?" CHAPTER LXXVII. MRS. LOVETT VISITS THE BANK. Mrs. Lovett, Mrs. Lovett, we are neglecting you! Excuse us, fascinating piece of wickedness. We are now in Bellyard again. It will be recollected what a mental ferment the appearance of Ben, and Arabella, and Sir Richard Blunt, at the window of her shop had put her in. Not that she knew any of those partiesnor that she connected any of them in any way with her feelings, except so far as their attitudes might at that moment lead her to suppose. The attitudes certainly were such as to create suspicion. All this, joined to the previous state of mind of Mrs. Lovett, did not tend to produce that heavenly calm, which philosophers tell us is such a remarkably nice thing. On the contrary, the mind of Mrs. Lovett rather resembled a raging torrent, boiling and bubbling to some destruction which was afar off, and which could only be reached through the perils and dangers of some stormy passage. She was sighing for peace. She had begun to sicken for the results of her life of iniquitynot those results which an indignant and outraged public would have visited her with, but those results which she and all persons, who deliberately and systematically commence a career of guilt, picture to themselves. Criminality is never engaged in for its own sake. There is always some ultimate object in view, which makes the retrospect less horrible, and the prospect dim and dubious, though it may be yet a thing of pleasurable anticipation. Of course, we are only reasoning upon those minds that reflect. There are many who lead a life of criminality, who do so as the manifestation of an intellect that can picture nothing else. But the reader knows that Mrs. Lovett was not of such an order. She was to some extent an educated, and to a considerable extent a clever woman. Hence, then, she had always pictured to herself wealth and retirement, respect and power, as the ends for which she was striving with such unscrupulous means. But of late, with a shuddering horror, she had begun to dread that all she had hoped for was getting only more distant. She had contracted a strong notion of the bad faith of Todd, and if such were really the case, all was indeed lost. If he allowed his cupidity just to induce him to commit the crime that would be one too many, destruction must fall upon them both. If likewise he instantly made an effort to take to himself all the profits of the unholy traffic that they were mutually engaged in, all would be lost to both; for was she a likely woman to crouch down in silence under such a blow? No! the scaffold prepared by her instrumentality for Todd, would be scarcely less a triumph to her that she herself would share it with him. He ought to have known better than he did. How clear and longsighted we find people upon subjects that from this distance may be supposed to present difficulties, and yet how shallow they are upon what is close to them. One would have thought that such a man as Todd could easily have said to himself, with regard to Mrs. Lovett, "I dare not tamper with the objects of that woman," and he would have said it with truth; but on the contrary, he only looked upon her as a convenient tool, which was to be thrown aside when it had served all the purposes for which he intended it. There could not have been a more fatal mistake upon the part of Todd as concerned his safety. But to return to Mrs. Lovett. The brandy she had promised to the prisoner was quite forgotten.