CHAPTER CXVI.

JOHANNA IS AMPLY PAID FOR HER BRIEF SERVICE AT TODD'S.

Upon hearing all this, poor Mark Ingestrie turned very faint and fell

back in his chair, looking so pale and wan, that Sir Richard Blunt was

compelled to go across the room to hold him up. After giving him a glass

of wine, he recovered, and with a deep sigh he said--

"And so I have wronged her after all! Oh, my Johanna, I am unworthy of

you!"

"That," said Sir Richard, "is a subject entirely for the young lady's

own consideration.--N. O. W."

Mark Ingestrie looked curiously in the face of Sir Richard Blunt, as

with marked emphasis upon each letter he said, "N. O. W!" But he had not

to wait long for an explanation of what it meant. A door at the back of

the room was flung open, and Johanna sprung forward with a cry of joy.

In another moment she was in the arms of Mark Ingestrie, and Sir Richard

Blunt had left the room.

[Illustration: The Meeting Of Mark And Johanna.]

It would be quite impossible, if we had the will to attempt it, for us

to go through the scene that took place between Johanna Oakley and Mark

Ingestrie in the magistrate's parlour. For about half an hour they quite

forgot where they were, or that there was any one in the world but

themselves. At the end of that period of time, though, Sir Richard Blunt

gently walked into the room.

"Well," he said, "have you come to any understanding about that military

man in the Temple Gardens?"

Johanna sprang towards the magistrate, and placing her arms upon his

breast, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Sir," she said, "you are our very dear friend, and I love you as I love

my father."

"God bless you!" said Sir Richard, "You have, by those few words, more

then repaid me for all that I have done. Are you happy?"

"Very, very happy."

"So very happy, sir," said Ingestrie, as his eyes glistened through

tears of joy, "that I can hardly believe in its reality."

"And yet you are both so poor."

"Ah, sir, what is poverty when we shall be together?"

"We will face that foe, Mark, I think," said Johanna, with a smile, "and

he shall not extort a tear from us."

"Well," said Sir Richard, as he opened his desk, "since you are not to

be knocked down by poverty, what say you to riches? Do you know these,

Mr. Ingestrie?"

"Why, that is my String of Pearls."

"Yes. I took this from Todd's escritoire myself, and they are yours and

Johanna's. Will you permit me always to call you Johanna?"

"Oh, yes--yes. Do so. All who love me call me Johanna."

"Very well. This String of Pearls, I have ascertained, is worth a

sufficient sum to place you both very far above all the primary

exigences of life. It will be necessary to produce them at the trial of

Sweeney Todd, but after that event they will be handed to you to do what

you please with them, when you can realise them at at once, and be happy

enough with the proceeds."

"If my poor friend, Thornhill," sighed Mark Ingestrie, "could but have

lived to see this day!"

"That, indeed, would have been a joy," said Johanna.

"Yes," said the magistrate; "but the grave has closed on his poor

remains--at least, I may say so figuratively. He was one of Todd's

victims, one of his numerous victims; for I do believe that, for a long

time, scarcely a week passed that did not witness some three or four

murders in that man's shop."

"Horrible!"

"You may well use that expression, in speaking of the career of Sweeney

Todd. It has been most horrible; but there cannot be a doubt of his

expiating his crimes upon the scaffold, together with his partner in

guilt, Mrs. Lovett."

Mark Ingestrie gave a shudder as that woman's name was mentioned, for it

put him in mind of the cellar where he had lived so long, and where it

was only by the most good fortune that he had not terminated his career.

Before they could say any more, one of the officers in attendance upon

Sir Richard, announced Colonel Jeffery.

"Ah, that is your dreadful military rival," said Sir Richard to

Ingestrie. "That is the gentleman whom you saw in the garden of the

Temple with Johanna."

"I have much to thank him for. His conduct to Johanna has been most

noble."

The colonel smiled when he saw Mark Ingestrie and Johanna, for he well

knew, from private information he had got from the magistrate, that Mark

Ingestrie and Mrs. Lovett's cook were identical; and holding out his

hand to the young man, he said--

"Accept of my best and sincerest wishes, Mr. Ingestrie."

"And you, sir," said Mark, "accept of my best thanks. Our gratitude is

largely due to you, sir."

"I am quite repaid by this very happy result; and I have the pleasure of

informing you, Sir Richard, that poor Tobias is very much better

indeed."

"Which I am rejoiced to hear," said Sir Richard. "And now, my dear

Johanna, it is time for you to go home. You will hear from me in the

morning, for I intend to do myself the pleasure of calling upon your

father, and explaining all to him; for there are some circumstances that

he is yet in ignorance of, and particularly concerning Mr. Ingestrie."

"I will walk with you to your door, Johanna," said Mark rising and

tottering.

"No," said Sir Richard Blunt; "that must not be to-night. Do not let

him, Johanna. He is by far too weak and unwell to do anything of the

kind. A calm and long night's rest here will do him a world of good.

Business prevents me from leaving the office; but I daresay the colonel

will see Johanna in safety."

"With pleasure," said Colonel Jeffery, "if Mr. Ingestrie has no

objection to my doing so."

"Sir," said Mark, "there is no one in all the world that I would more

cheerfully see protecting my Johanna. I feel that I am in too great a

state of exhaustion to go out. I leave her to your care, sir."

"That is right," said Sir Richard Blunt. "Now, good-night, Johanna, and

God bless you. You will see me in the morning, recollect."

Mark Ingestrie took a parting embrace of Johanna, and then she went off

with the colonel, who, on their road home, told her how he and Arabella

had got so far as to fix their wedding day, and how he should not feel

at all happy unless both she and Mark Ingestrie were at the ceremony.

"Indeed, he hoped," he said, "that they might give the parson only one

trouble, by being married upon the same occasion."

Johanna warded this last part of the colonel's speech; but she was

fervent in her hopes that he and Arabella would be so very happy, and in

her praises of her young friend; so in very pleasant discourse indeed,

they reached the old spectacle-maker's shop, and then the colonel shook

hands with Johanna, and bade her a kind and friendly adieu, and she was

let in by--to her immense surprise--her mother!

Mrs. Oakley fell upon Johanna's neck in a passion of tears, crying--

"Come, my child--come to your mother's heart, and tell her that you

forgive her for much past neglect and unkindness."

"Oh, mother," said Johanna, "do not speak so. There is nothing to

forgive; and if you are happy and we are all good friends, we will never

think of the past."

"That's right, my dear," said Mr. Oakley, from the passage; "that's

right, my love. Come in, both of you." But it is necessary that we

should briefly state how it was that this wonderful change in the

behaviour of Mrs. Oakley came about, and for that purpose we must

retrace our steps a little.

The reader will be so good as to recollect that the last time Mrs.

Oakley was introduced to his notice she was encumbered by Mr. Lupin, and

had the pleasure of introducing that gentleman to the notice of Big Ben

the beef-eater, who had quickly put all idea of escape out of the

question, as regarded that highly religious personage.

At that point the presence of other events compelled us to leave the

lady, and repair to Todd's shop, and to Mrs. Lovett's little concern in

Bell Yard.

The appearance of Lupin's face when he found that he was in the grasp of

Big Ben, would have been quite a study for a painter. It transcended all

description, and for the moment seemed as if he were bidding farewell to

this world and to all his iniquities in it, without the intervention of

the law. But in a few moments he recovered from this condition, and

sliding on to his knees, and in a whining tone, he cried--

"Mercy, Mercy! Oh, let me go!"

"At the end of a rope," said Big Ben. "Easy does it. What has he been

and done, Mrs. O.?"

"Murder, murder!"

A crowd of people soon began to collect around them, and then Lupin made

an effort to thrust himself out of the grasp of Big Ben, but the only

result of the effort was very nearly to strangle himself.

"You are killing the man, you great brute!" cried a woman. "You are

throttling the poor man."

"He will be murdered," shouted another female. "Oh, you great wretch, do

you want to take his life?"

"Listen to me," said Mrs. Oakley. "He has murdered his poor wife, and

that is the reason I have asked that he should be held tight."

"Murdered his wife!" exclaimed about twelve females in chorus. "Murdered

his wife? Then hanging is a great deal too good for him. Hold him tight,

sir, do. Oh, the wretch!"

The tide of popular feeling fairly turned against Mr. Lupin, and Big Ben

had as much difficulty now in preserving the half dead wretch from

popular fury as if he had been accused of any other crime, he might have

had to prevent popular sympathy from aiding his escape.

"Oh!" cried one lady, of rather extensive proportions, who was the wife

of a baker, "I should like to have him in a brisk oven for an hour and a

half."

"And I," said the lady of a butcher, "would see him slaughtered without

so much as winking at him."

"And serve him right, the wagabone!" cried Big Ben. "Come along, will

you, you ill-looking scarecrow! Easy does it. Will you walk? Oh, very

well, don't. Who are you?"

A little man with a constable's staff in his hand, rushed before Ben,

crying out--

"What is it? what is it? I'm a constable. What is it?"

"Murder!" said Mrs. Oakley. "I give that man in charge for murdering his

wife. I saw him do it."

"That will do," said the constable. "Give him to me. I'll take him. He

dare not resist me. I'll have him."

Big Ben looked at the constable and then he shook his head, as he said

very gravely--

"I tell you what it is, my little man, you ain't fit to tussle with such

a fellow as this--I'll take him along for you. Where is he to go?"

"To the round-house, in course; but I'm a constable. I must take him--I

will take him! Give him to me, sir, directly--I will have him--I must go

with him!"

"Wait a minute," said Ben. "Easy does it! You must go with him, you say?

Very good--easy does everything!"

With this, Ben grasped Mr. Lupin round the middle, and placed him under

his left arm, and suddenly pouncing, then, upon the constable, he caught

him up and placed him under the right arm; and then away he walked, to

the admiration of the populace, and paying about as much attention to

the kicking of the constable and the kicking of Mr. Lupin, as though

they were two dogs that he was carrying home.

And so the murderer was taken to the round-house, where Mrs. Oakley duly

preferred the charge against him, and promised to substantiate it before

a magistrate when called upon so to do.