CHAPTER XCVIII.

JOHANNA HAS A VISITOR WHILE TODD IS GONE UPON THE RIVER.

"Well?" said Todd.

"Well, sir, I was thinking that--that you might spare a trifle for the

children, sir. They are starving--do you hear, Mr. Todd?--they are

starving, and have no father now."

"What was the value of the watch-cases your husband had with him, Mrs.

Cummins, when he disappeared?"

"About a hundred pounds, sir, they tell me. But don't you believe, sir,

for one moment that John deserted me and these--ah no, sir."

"You really think so?"

"I am sure of it, sir, quite--quite sure of it. He loved me, sir, and

these--he did indeed, sir. You will help us, Mr. Todd--oh, say that you

will do what you can for us."

"Certainly, my good woman--certainly. What is this little fellow's name,

Mrs. Cummins?"

"William--William is his name," said the poor woman, in such a flurry

from the idea of what Todd was going to do for the children that she

could hardly speak, but caught her breath hysterically. "His name is

William, Mr. Todd."

"And this little girl, ma'am?"

"Ann, sir--Ann. That is her name, Mr. Todd. The same, if you please,

sir, as her poor mother's. Look up, Ann, my dear, and courtesy to the

gentleman. God bless you, Mr. Todd, for thinking of me and mine. God

bless you, sir!"

"Ann and William," said Todd, "Ann and William; and very nice children

they are, too, in my opinion, Mrs. Cummins."

"They are good children, sir." Mrs. Cummins burst into tears at the idea

of what Todd was going to do for the children, for the whole of the

parish was impressed with the idea that he was well to do. "They are

very good children Mr. Todd; and although a charge to me, are still a

blessing; for now that John is gone, they seem to hold me to the world,

sir."

"Well, Mrs. Cummins, I am glad you have applied to me, for if you had

not, I certainly should not have known the names of your children. As it

is, however, whenever I pray, I will think of them, and of you; and in

the meantime, I commend you to the care of that Providence which, of

course, cannot permit the widow and the fatherless to want anything in

this world, or the next either."

Todd walked leisurely on.

"Ha! ha!" he laughed. "Good again. What have I to do with charity, or

charity with me? I am at war with all the world, and at war with Heaven,

too, if there be one, which I will not admit! No, no--I will not admit

that."

* * * * *

While Todd was away upon this errand of getting rid of Mrs. Lovett,

which we have seen he has accomplished so much to his satisfaction,

Johanna was not entirely without visitors. The excellent watch that was

kept upon the movements of Todd, in their minutest particular, by Sir

Richard Blunt and his officers, let them know perfectly well that Todd

was from home; but it was not from them that Johanna had her first visit

after Todd was gone.

He had not left the shop above ten minutes when Johanna heard a

mysterious noise outside the door of it. It sounded as if someone were

scraping it with something. At first she felt a little uneasy at the

sound, but as it increased she calmed herself, and resolved upon

ascertaining what it was.

Turning to the door, cautiously she opened it a little way. That was

quite sufficient to dispel any fears that she might have, for the paw of

a dog was immediately thrust through the opening; and when upon this

Johanna opened the door freely, Hector, with a loud bark, dashed into

the shop.

So fierce was the dog's demeanour, that Johanna shrank aside, but master

Hector saw with half an eye that he had frightened her, so he went up to

her, and licked her hand in token of amity, after which he barked loudly

at the shop, as though he would have said, "Mind though I am friends

with you, I am still the uncompromising foe of all else in this place."

"Alas poor dog," said Johanna as the tears rushed to her eyes, "you will

never see your master again."

The young girl's grief for the loss of her lover seemed all to be roused

up freshly from the depths of her heart at this appearance of the dog,

which she had some reason to believe had been the companion of Mark

Ingestrie. She sat down upon the little stool by the fire, and covering

face with her hands, she wept bitterly.

In the meantime, Hector, finding that Todd was not there to do battle

with him, made up his mind for a grand rummage in the shop; and truly he

conducted it with a perseverance and a recklessness of consequences that

was wonderful. He was on the counter that ran along under the window--he

was under it--he was on every shelf, and he tore open every cupboard;

but alas! poor Hector could find no token of his lost master. At length

the howling and the scratching that he made induced Johanna to look up

to see what he wanted. She was rather appalled at the confusion he had

created, and she could not think what he wanted until she found that

there was a shelf at the top of the cupboard, that was equally out of

her reach as it was out of his.

"I cannot help you, my poor friend," she said. "There seems to be

nothing on that shelf."

Hector, however, having retired to a remote corner of the shop, and got

on a chair in order that he might get a good look at the shelf, was of a

different opinion; and, finding that he was not to calculate upon any

help from Johanna, he made various springs up to the shelf with his

mouth open, until at last he caught hold of a little bit of tape that

seemed to be hanging over the edge of it.

The tape was attached to something, which Hector immediately, with a

loud bark of defiance, took possession of, partly by standing upon it,

and partly by holding it in his mouth. Upon stooping to see what this

was, Johanna discovered that it was a waistcoat of blue cloth.

At first Hector did not seem much to fancy even letting her look at it;

but after looking intently in her face for a few moments, he very

quietly resigned it to her, only he kept very close to it while she

turned it round and round and looked at it. It might have been Mark

Ingestrie's. It looked something like the sort of garment that a master

mariner might be supposed to wear, and the evident recognition of it by

the dog spoke wonders in favour of the supposition that it had belonged

to his master at one time or another.

Johanna thought that in one of the pockets there seemed something, and

upon putting in her hand she found a small piece of paper folded in

four. To undo it was the work of a moment, and then she saw upon it the

following words:--

"Mr. Oakley, Spectacle-maker, 33, Fore Street, City."

Her senses seemed upon the point of deserting her. Every object for a

moment appeared to whirl round her in a mad dance. Who should know

better--ah, who should know half so well as she--the handwriting which

conveyed those few words to her senses? It was the handwriting of her

lost lover, Mark Ingestrie!

"Hilloa! Pison, is you here?" cried a voice at the shop door at this

moment.

Johanna started to her feet.

"Who are you?--what do you want?" she cried. "Murder!--murder! He has

been foully murdered, I say; I will swear it--I--I--God help me!"

With the little scrap of paper in her hand, she staggered back until she

came to the huge shaving-chair, into which she sank with a long-drawn

sigh.

"Why, what's the row?" said the man, who was no other than Hector's

friend, the ostler, from the inn opposite. "What's the row? Now what an

out-and-out willain of a dog you is, Pison, to cut over here like bricks

as soon as you can git loose to do so. Don't you know that old Todd is a

busting to do you an ill turn some o' these days? and yet you will come,

you hidiot."

"Mr. Todd is out," said Johanna.

"Oh, is he, my little man? Well, the devil go with him, that's all I

say. Come along, that's a good dog."

Pison only wagged his tail in recognition of the friendly feeling

between him and the ostler, and then he kept quite close to Johanna and

the waistcoat, which the moment he saw her drop, he laid hold of, and

held tight with such an expression as was quite enough to convince the

ostler he would not readily give it up again.

"Now what a hanimal you is," cried the ostler. "Whose blessed veskut is

that you as got?"

"He found it here," said Johanna. "Did you see his master on the day

when he came here?"

"No, my little chap, I didn't; but I don't care who knows it--it's my

'pinion that whosomedever his master was, old Sweeney Todd, your master,

knows more on him than most folks. Come away, Pison, will you?"

The dog did not now show much disinclination to follow the ostler, but

he kept the waistcoat firmly in his grasp, as he left the shop after

him. Johanna still held that little scrap of paper in her hand, and oh!

what a world of food for reflection did it present her with. Was it, or

was it not, an establishment of the fact of Mark Ingestrie having been

Todd's victim? That was the question that Johanna put to herself, as

through her tears, that fell like rain, she gazed upon that paper, with

those few words upon it, in the well-known hand of her lover.

The more Johanna reflected upon this question, the more difficult a one

did she find it to answer in any way that was at all satisfactory to her

feelings. The strong presumption that Mark Ingestrie had fallen a victim

to Todd had not been sufficiently obliterated by all that Sir Richard

Blunt had said to her to free her mind from a strong bias to fancy

anything that transpired at Todd's a corroboration of that fact.

"Yes," she said, mournfully, "yes, poor--poor Mark. Each day only adds

to my conviction that you became this man's victim, and that that fatal

String of Pearls, which you fondly thought would be a means of uniting

us together by removing the disabilities of want of fortune, has been

your death. That waistcoat, which your faithful dog has carried with

him, is another relic of you, and this scrap of paper is but another

link in the chain of circumstances that convinces me we shall never meet

again in this world."

Poor Johanna was absolutely reasoning herself into an agony of grief,

when the door of the shop opened, and an old man with white hair made

his appearance.

"Is Mr. Todd within?" he said.

"No, sir," replied Johanna.

"And is it possible," added the old man, straightening himself up, "that

I am disguised so well that even you do not know me, Johanna?"

In a moment now she recognised the voice. It was that of Sir Richard

Blunt.

"Oh, sir," she said, "I do indeed know you now, and I am very--very

wretched."

"Has anything new occurred, Johanna, to produce this feeling?"

"Yes, sir. The dog, that my heart tells me belonged to poor Mark, has

been over here, and with a rare instinct he found a piece of apparel, in

the pocket of which was this paper. It is in _his_ writing. I know it

too--too well to be denied. Ah, sir, you, even you, will no longer now

seek to delude me with false hopes. But do not tarry here, sir; Todd has

been long gone, and may at any chance moment come back again."

"Be at rest upon that point, Johanna. He cannot come back without my

being made aware of it by my friends without. But tell me in what way

you attach such serious importance to this piece of paper, Johanna?"

"In what way, my dear friend? Do I not say that it is in poor Mark's own

handwriting? How could it come here unless he brought it? Oh, sir, do

not ask me in what way I attach importance to it. Rather let me ask you

how, otherwise than upon the supposition of his having become one of

Todd's victims, can you account for its being here at all?"

"Really," said Sir Richard, "this Mark Ingestrie must have been a very

forgetful young man."

"Forgetful?"

"Yes. It seems that it was necessary for him to carry your name and

address in his pocket. Now if he had given such a slip of paper as this

to another person for fear he should forget what was not so deeply

imprinted in his memory I should not have wondered at it for a moment."

Johanna clasped her hands and looked the magistrate in the face, as she

said--

"Then, sir, you think--that is, you believe--that--that this is no proof

of poor Mark having been here?"

"As I hope for mercy in Heaven, it is to my mind a proof the other way,

Johanna."

She burst into a passion of hysterical weeping. Sir Richard Blunt knew

too much of human nature to interfere by word or gesture, with this

effort of nature to relieve the overchanged heart, and he waited

patiently, affecting to be looking upon some old prints upon the wall

until he heard the sobs decrease to sighs. Then he turned with a smile

to Johanna, and said--

"My dear girl, gather hope from that scrap of paper, not despair. Depend

upon it the address of your father held too conspicuous a place in the

heart of him who loved you to require that it should have been written

upon a piece of paper. You know that my theory on the subject is that

Mr. Thornhill was actually sent to you by Mark Ingestrie, and that it

was he who perished here."

"And Mark himself--if that were so?"

"His fate has still to be elucidated; but that he perished here I do not

believe, as I have often told you."

"This is an exquisite relief," said Johanna, as she laid her hand upon

her heart.

"Make much of it," said Sir Richard; "something even yet seems to tell

me that you will be happy. I cannot think it possible that Heaven would

permit such a man as Todd to destroy your earthly felicity. But how

comes the shop in such confusion?"

"It was the dog. He would look everywhere, and I had not the heart nor

the strength to prevent him. Todd has a horror of him; and fright will

keep him quiet when I tell him the cause of the mischief that is done

here."

"Perhaps then it will be better to leave it as it is," said Sir Richard,

"than awaken his suspicions by attempting to put the place to rights, in

which you might fail in some particulars known to him. And now tell me,

Johanna, what passed between him and this Mrs. Lovett?"

"But a few words, sir, before I was sent out. There is one thing though

that I suspect, and that is that Mrs. Lovett has found out my secret."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, she regarded me with a strange gaze that made me feel that she

penetrated my disguise. I know not if she will say as much to Todd, but

one glance of his eye upon me when he returns will satisfy me upon that,

I think."

At this moment a bugle sounded in Fleet Street.

"That is my signal," said Sir Richard. "Todd is coming. I will be close

at hand, Johanna, lest Mrs. Lovett has told him your secret, and you

should find yourself in any danger. Farewell! Heaven hold you in its

keeping."