The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 288: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“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. o © © 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. “T 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.” 33 “And can you really find courage to go again to that—tha Sir Richard could not find a fitting name for Todd’s home, but Johanna understood him, and she replied gently— “T 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 the 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.” “T know you are all careful of my safety, while I 33 “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 not 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. “T 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 CORniclooo S CO)