CHAPTER LXXXI.

JOHANNA IS ENCOURAGED.

Was Todd satisfied with Johanna's excuse about the toothache? Was he

satisfied of the good foible of the supposed Charley Green, by the

readiness with which she had come into the parlour? We shall see. If he

were not satisfied, he was staggered in his suspicions sufficiently to

delay--and delay just then was to Sweeney Todd--one of the most fatal

things that could be imagined. There are crumbs of consolation under all

circumstances. When Johanna was best sent out of the shop, upon the

occasion of the visit of Mrs. Lovett to Todd, she had scarcely got a

half dozen steps from the door of the barber's, when a man in passing

her, and without pausing a moment, said--

"Miss Oakley, be so good as to follow me."

Johanna at once obeyed the mandate. The man walked rapidly on until a

fruiterer's shop was gained, into which he at once walked.

"Mr. Oston," he said to a man behind the counter, "is your parlour

vacant?"

"Yes, Sir Richard, and quite at your service," said the fruiterer.

By this Johanna found that she had made no mistake, and that the person

she had followed was no other than Sir Richard Blunt, the magistrate,

who was interesting himself so much for her safety, as well as for the

discovery of what had befallen Mark Ingestrie. The fruiterer's parlour

was a prettily fitted up place, where a couple of lovers might in a very

romantic manner, if they chose, eat strawberries and cream, and quite

enjoy each other's blissful society, in whispered nothing the while. Sir

Richard handed Johanna a seat as he said--"Miss Oakley, I am very much

pleased, indeed, to have this opportunity of seeing you, and of saying a

few words to you."

"Ah, Sir, how much do I owe you."

"Nay, Miss Oakley, you owe me nothing. When once I happily become aware

of your situation, it becomes my duty as well as my inclination to

protect you in every way against what, I am sure you will forgive me,

for calling your rashness."

"Call it what you will, sir."

"Well, Miss Oakley, we will dismiss that part of the subject. Are you

going upon any errand, or have you a little time to spare."

"I have some time."

"Then it is a very proper thing that you should enjoy it in taking some

proper refreshment."

"I want nothing."

"Nay, but you shall have something whether you want it or not, before I

say any more to you about Todd and his affairs."

Johanna, whose mental excitement had prevented her completely from

feeling the amount of exhaustion, which otherwise must by that time have

come over her, would still have protested that she wanted nothing, but

Sir Richard Blunt opened the door of the parlour, and called out--

"Mr. Orton, is your daughter at home?"

"Yes, Sir Richard, Ann is up stairs."

"Very good. My young friend here can find the way, I dare say. Is it the

first floor?"

"Yes, don't you hear her practising upon her spinet."

The tinkling sounds of a spinet, then all the fashion; came upon their

ears, and Sir Richard, said to Johanna--

"Go up stairs, now, to that young lady. She is about your own age, and

her father's housekeeper. She will find you something to eat and drink,

and then come down to me, as soon as you can."

Sir Richard nodded to Mr. Orton, who nodded in return, and then Johanna

seeing that it was all right, ascended the staircase, and guided by the

sound of the spinet, soon found herself in a tolerably handsome room,

upon the first floor.

A young girl with a profusion of chesnut curls hanging down her back,

was seated at the spinet. Johanna made up to her at once, and throwing

her arms round her neck, said--

"And will you say a kind word to me?"

The girl gave a slight scream, and rose.

"Well, I'm sure, you impertinant--handsome--"

"Girl," said Johanna.

"Boy," faltered Miss Orton.

"No, girl," added Johanna. "Your father sent me to you, and Sir Richard

Blunt suggested it. Shall I leave you again."

"Oh, no--no," said Ann Orton, as she sprang towards Johanna, and kissed

her on both cheeks, "you are Miss Johanna Oakley."

"How is it that you know me?"

"My father is an old friend of Sir Richard's, and he has told us all

your story. How truly delighted I am to see you. And so you have escaped

from that odious Todd, and--"

"Immediate refreshment, my dear, and all the attention you can cram into

a very short space of time to Miss Oakley, my dear," said Mr. Orton,

just putting his head so far into the room as to make himself plainly

and distinctly heard.

"Yes, father, yes."

"How kind you all are," said Johanna.

"No--no--at least we wish to be, but what I mean is that we are no

kinder than we ought to be. My father is so good, I have no mother."

"And I, too, am motherless."

"Yes, I--I heard that Mrs. Oakley--"

"Lived, you would say; and yet am I motherless."

Johanna burst into tears. The sense of desolation that came over the

young girl's heart whenever she thought how little of a mother the

fanatical personage who owned that title was to her, generally overcame

all her firmness, as upon the present occasion. Ann flung her arms

around Johanna, and the two young creatures wept in unison. We will

leave them to their sacred intercourse.

* * * * *

Sir Richard Blunt remained in conversation with Mr. Orton for about a

quarter of an hour, and then both Johanna and Ann came down stairs.

Johanna looked calmer and happier. Ann had said some kind things to

her--such as none but a young girl can say to a young girl.

"I am ready," said Johanna.

"Ready for what?" enquired Sir Richard Blunt, with a look of earnest

affection in the face of the beautiful heroine--for if ever there were a

heroine, we really think Johanna Oakley was one, and we are quite sure

that you agree with us.

"For my mission," said Johanna, "I am ready."

"And can you really find courage to go again to that--that--"

Sir Richard could not find a fitting name for Todd's home, but Johanna

understood him, and she replied gently--

"I may not pause now. It is my duty."

"Your duty?"

"Yes. Oh, Mark--Mark, I cannot restore you from the dead, but in the

sacred cause of justice I may bring your murderer to the light of day.

It is my duty to do so much for your memory."

Ann turned aside to hide her tears. Mr. Orton, too, was much affected,

and there was an unwonted jar, as though some false note had had been

struck in voice of Sir Richard Blunt as he spoke, saying--

"Miss Oakley, I will not--I cannot deny that by your going back to

Todd's house, you may materially assist in the cause of justice. But yet

I advise you not to do so."

"I know you are all careful of my safety, while I--"

"Ah, Johanna," said Ann, "you do not know yet that you are so desolate

as to wish to die."

"Yes, yes--I am desolate."

"And so," added Sir Richard, "because you loved one who has been,

according to your judgment upon the circumstances that have come to your

knowledge, torn from you by death, you will admit no other ties which

could bind you to the world. Is that right? Is it like you?"

The tones of voice in which these words were uttered, as well as the

sentiment embodied in them, sunk deeply into Johanna's heart. Clasping

her hands together, she cried--

"Oh, no, no! Do no think me so inhuman. Do not think me so very

ungrateful."

"Had you forgotten, Arabella Wilmot? Had you forgotten your father? Nay,

had you forgotten the brave Colonel Jeffery?"

"No, no! I ought not to forget any, when so many have so kindly

remembered me, and you too, sir, I ought not, and will not forget you,

for you have been a kind friend to me."

"Nay, I am nothing."

"Seek not, sir, to disparage what you have done, you have been all

kindness to me."

Before he was aware of what she was about, Johanna had seized the hand

of Sir Richard Blunt, and for one brief moment touched it with her lips.

The good magistrate was sensibly affected.

"God bless me!" said Mr. Orton, "something very big keeps blocking up

the whole of my window."

They all looked, and as they were silent at that moment, they heard a

voice from the street, say--

"Come! Come, my dear! Don't set the water-works a-going. Always

remember, that easy does it. You come in here, and have something to

eat, if you won't go home. Lor bless me! what will they think has become

of me at the tower?"

"Why, it is Ben!" cried Johanna.

"Ben?" said Ann. "Who is Ben?"

"Hush! Stop," said Sir Richard, "I pray you, stop."

Johanna would have rushed out to speak to Ben, who certainly was at the

window of the fruiterer's shop, with Arabella Wilmot upon his arm,

endeavouring to persuade her to enter, and partake of some refreshment.

"I will bring him in," said Sir Richard. "Retire into the parlour, I beg

of you, Miss Oakley, for he will make quite a scene in the shop if you

do not."

Johanna knew well Ben's affection for her, and doubted not, but that as

Sir Richard said, he would not scruple to show it, even in the open

shop, probably to the great edification of the passers by. She

accordingly retired to the parlour with Ann. In a few moments, Sir

Richard Blunt ushered in both Ben and Arabella Wilmot. Arabella with a

shriek of joy, rushed into Johanna's arms, and then with excess of

emotion she fainted. Ben caught up Johanna fairly off her feet, as

though he had been dancing some little child, and holding her in a

sitting posture upon one arm, he said--

"Bless you! Easy does it. Easy I say--does--it. Don't you think I'm a

crying. It's a tea-chest has flew in my eye from that grocer's shop

opposite. Oh, you little rogue, you. Easy does it. What you have got

them what do you call 'ems on, have you?"

The kiss that Ben gave her might have been heard at Sweeney Todd's, and

then when prevailed upon to sit down, he would insist upon holding her

fast upon his knee.

"I must go," said Johanna, and then looking at Arabella, she added--"Let

me go, before she awakens from her transient forgetfulness to beg me to

stay."

Ben was furious at the idea of Johanna going back to Todd's, but Sir

Richard, overruled him, and after some trouble, got him to consent. Then

turning to Johanna, he said--

"The moment night comes on, you will have some visitors, and remember,

Miss Oakley, that St. Dunstan's is the watch-word. Whoever comes to you

with that in his mouth, is a friend."

"I will remember, and now farewell and God bless and reward you for all

your goodness to me. I will live for the many who love me yet, and whom

I love in this world."

* * * * *

Was it not a world of wonders that amid all this, Johanna did not go

mad? Surely something more than mortal strength must have sustained that

young and innocent girl in the midst of all these strange events. No

human power that she possessed, could have possibly prevented her mind

from sinking, and the hideous fascinations of an overcharged fancy from

breeding

"Rude riot in her brain."

But there was a power who supported her--a power which from the

commencement of the world has supported many--a power which while the

world continues, will support many more, strengthening the weak and

trampling on the strong. The power of love in all the magic of its deep

and full intensity. Yes, this was the power which armed that frail and

delicate-looking girl with strength to cope with such a man--man shall

we call him? no, we may say such a fiend as Sweeney Todd. If it required

no small amount of moral courage to go in the first instance upon that

expedition--so fraught with danger, to Todd's shop--what did it require

now to enable her to return after having passed through much peril, and

tasting the sweets of friendship and sympathy? Surely any heart but

Johanna's must have shrunk aghast from ever again even in thought,

approaching that dreadful place. And yet she went. Yes upon her mission

of justice she went. To be sure, she was told that as far as human means

went, she would be upheld and supported from those without; but what

could that assure to her further than that if she fell she should not

fall unavenged? Truly, if some higher, some far nobler impulse than that

derived from any consciousness that she was looked after, had not

strengthened her, the girl's spirit, must have sunk beneath the weight

of many terrors. With a sad smile she once again crossed the threshold

of that house, which she now no longer suspected to be the murderer's

haunt. She knew it.