CHAPTER LXIII.

JOHANNA STARTS FOR TODD'S.

We will leave Todd to the indulgence of some of the most uncomfortable

reflections that ever passed through his mind, while we once again seek

the sweet companionship of the fair Johanna, and her dear romantic

friend, Arabella Wilmot. The project which these two young and

inexperienced girls were bent upon, was one that might well appal the

stoutest heart that ever beat in human bosom. It was one which, with a

more enlarged experience of the world, they would not for one moment

have entertained, but by long thought and much grief upon the subject of

her hopeless love, Johanna had much observed that clearness of

perception that otherwise would have saved her from what to all

appearance is a piece of extravagance. As for Arabella, she had

originally conceived the idea from her love for the romantic, and it was

only when it came near to the execution of it that she started at the

possible and indeed highly probable danger of the loss to one whom she

loved so sincerely as she loved Johanna. But all that has passed away.

The remonstrances have been made, and made in vain; Arabella is

silenced, and nothing remains but to detail to the reader the steps by

which the courageous girl sought to carry out a plan so fraught with a

thousand dangers. Both Arabella and Johanna sought the abode of the

latter's father, for the first step in the affair was to say something

there which was to account seemingly satisfactorily for any lengthened

stay of Johanna from home. This was by no manner of means a task of any

difficulty, for in addition to the old spectacle maker being innocence

itself as regarded the secreting anything in the shape of a plot,

Arabella Wilmot was the very last person in all the world he would have

thought capable of joining in one. As for Mrs. Oakley, she was by far

too intent, as she said herself frequently, upon things which are

eternal, to trouble herself much about terrestrial affairs, always

except they came to her in the shape of something enticing to the

appetites. What a state of things, that a mother should forget the trust

that is placed in her when she is given a child, and fancy she is really

propitiating the Almighty by neglecting a stewardship which He has

imposed upon her! But so it is. There are, we fear, in different ways, a

great many Mrs. Oakleys in the world.

"Ah, my dear Miss Wilmot," said the old spectacle-maker to Arabella,

when he saw her. "How glad I am to see you. How fresh you look."

Arabella's face was flushed with excitement, and some shame that the

errand she came upon was to deceive. She had not heard yet of the

spurious philosophy that the end sanctifies the means.

"I have come to--to--to--"

"Yes, my dear. To stay awhile, and let us look at your pretty face.

Come, my dear Johanna, your mother is out. What can you get for your

friend, Miss Wilmot? Here, my dear, take this half-crown and get some

sweetmeats, and I will open for you a bottle of the old Malaga wine."

[Illustration: Johanna's Farewell Of Her Father Prior To Her Encounter

With Todd.]

Johanna's eyes filled with tears, and she was compelled to turn aside to

conceal those tell-tale traces of emotion from her father. Arabella saw

that if anything was to be said or done in furtherance of the affair

upon which Johanna had now set her heart, she must do it or say it.

Summoning all her courage, she said--

"My dear sir--"

"Sir?--sir? Bless me, my child, when did you begin to call your old kind

friend sir?"

"My dear Mr. Oakley--"

"Ah, that's nearer the old way. Well, my dear Arabella, what would you

say to me?"

"Will you trust Johanna with me to-night, and perhaps to-morrow night?"

"I don't think Johanna can come to much harm with you, my dear," said

Mr. Oakley. "You are older than she a little, and at your age a little

goes a long way, so take her, Arabella, and bring her back to me when

you like."

With what a shrill of agony did Arabella hear Johanna thus committed to

her care. She was compelled to grasp the back of the old

spectacle-maker's chair for support.

"Yes, yes, sir," she said. "Oh, yes, Mr. Oakley."

"Well, my dears, go, and God bless you both."

To both Arabella and Johanna's perception there was something ominous

about this blessing, at such a time, and yet it had really about it

nothing at all unusual, for Mr. Oakley was very much in the habit of

saying to them "God bless you," when they left him; but feeling, as they

did, the hazard that she (Johanna) might encounter before again she

heard that voice say "God bless you," if, indeed, she ever again heard

it, no wonder the words sank deep into their hearts, and called up the

most painful emotions. Johanna certainly could not speak. Arabella tried

to laugh, to hide an emotion that would not be hidden, and only

succeeded in producing an hysterical sound, that surprised Mr. Oakley.

"What's the matter, my dear?" he said.

"Oh, nothing--nothing, dear Mr. Oakley, nothing."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps I only fancy it; but you both

seem--seem--"

"What do we seem, father?" said Johanna, looking very pale, and speaking

with a great effort.

"Not quite as usual, my darling."

"That--that," gasped Johanna, "can only be--be fancy."

"Of course not," said Oakley. "Fancy, I think I said it was, or if I did

not, I meant to say so, my love."

"Come," said Arabella.

"Yes--yes. Father--father. Good day."

She kissed his cheek; and then, before the old man could say another

word, she rushed to the door.

"Farewell!" said Arabella. "Good day, Mr. Oakley. I--I thank you, sir.

Good day, sir."

"Dear, dear," said the old man, "what is the matter with the girls? How

odd they both seem to-day. What can be the cause of it? I never before

saw them so strange in their manner. Ah! I have it. My wife has met

them, I dare say, and has said some unkind things to them about hats or

ribbons, or some harmless little piece of girlish pride. Well--well. All

that will pass away. I'm glad I hit upon it, for--"

At this moment old Oakley was astounded by the sudden entrance of

Johanna, who, clasping him in her arms, cried in a voice, half choked

with tears--

"Good bye, father--good bye. God help me!"

Without, then, waiting for a word from the spectacle-maker, she again

rushed from the shop, and joining Arabella a few doors off, they both

hurried to the house of the latter. Old Oakley tottered back until he

came to a seat, upon which he sank, with an air of abstraction and

confusion, that threatened to last him for some time; and in that, for

the present, we must leave him, while we look narrowly at the conduct of

the two young creatures, who have, in the pride of their virtue and

their nobleness of purpose, presumed to set up their innocence against

the deep craft of such a man as Sweeney Todd. Well might Johanna say

"God help me!"

"It is done!" said Johanna, as she clutched her friend by the arm. "It

is done now. The worst is over."

"Oh, Johanna--Johanna--"

"Well, Arabella, why do you pause? What would you say?"

"I scarcely know, and yet I feel that it ought to be something that I

have promised you. I would not say."

"Let your lips be sealed, then, dear friend; and be assured that now

nothing but the visible interposition of God shall turn me from my

purpose. I am calm and resolved."

These words, few as they were, were too significant, and spoken with too

evident sincerity to permit a doubt of their deep intensity and truth,

and from that moment Arabella Wilmot looked upon the scheme of Johanna

going in disguise to Todd's as quite settled so far as regarded the

attempt. It was the result now only that had to be looked to.

"I will say no more, Johanna, except as regards detail. In that I may

offer you advice."

"Oh, yes--yes, Arabella. Thankfully received advice, as well you know.

What is it you would say?"

"That you ought to wait until the morning."

"And so perhaps lose precious hours. Oh, no--no. Do not ask me now to

submit to any delays, Arabella."

"But if there be reason, Johanna?"

"Well, the reason, then--the reason?"

"I think that, if possible, it would be well to avoid the necessity of

remaining a night at Todd's; and so if you go in the morning, you see,

Johanna, you may have an opportunity before nightfall of making all the

discoveries you wish, or of satisfying yourself that they are not to be

made at all."

"It might be so, and yet--yet I almost think night will be the best time

of all."

"But by waiting until to-morrow morning, Johanna, you will have both day

and night."

"Yes, yes. I wish I knew what would be the best, Arabella. My feelings

are wound up to this enterprise, and I am altogether in such a frightful

state of excitement concerning it, that--that I know not how I should be

able to support myself under the delay of the remainder of to-day and

the whole of the ensuing night."

"In the night you will have repose, and to-morrow morning, with much

more calmness and effect, you will be able to start upon your errand.

Believe me, Johanna, I don't counsel this delay with any hope, or wish,

or expectation, that it will turn you from your purpose, but simply

because I think it will the better ensure its successful termination."

"Successful! What will you call successful, Arabella?"

"Your coming back to me uninjured, Johanna."

"Ah, that speaks your love for me, while I--I love him for whose sake I

am about to undergo so much, sufficiently to feel that were I sure he

was no more, my own death at the hands of Sweeney Todd would be

success."

"Johanna--Johanna, don't speak in such a strain. Have you no thought for

me? have you no thought for your poor father, to whom, as you well know,

you are the dearest tie that he has in the world? Oh, Johanna, do not be

so selfish."

"Selfish?"

"Yes, it is selfish, when you know what others must suffer because they

love you, to speak as though it were a thing to be desired that you

should die by violence."

"Arabella, can you forgive me? can you make sufficient allowances for

this poor distracted heart, to forgive its ravings?"

"I can--I do, Johanna, and in the words of your father, I am ever ready

to say 'God bless you!' You will not go till to-morrow?"

After the pause of a few moments, Johanna said faintly--

"I will not--I will not."

"Oh that is much. Then at least for another night we shall enjoy our old

sweet companionship."

They by this time had reached the home of Arabella, and as it was an

understood thing that Johanna was not expected home, the two young girls

retired to converse in unrestrained freedom upon all their hopes and

fears.