The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 190: what you’re looking at

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

“How I came to put on—the—the—” “Oh, these here—very good. Cut on, and let’s know all the particulars. I suppose you felt cold, my dear, eh?” “No—no.” “No? Well then, tell it quick, for I was always a mortal bad hand at guessing. Your father is fitting an old gentleman with a pair of spectacles, and he seems hard to please, so we shall have lots of time. Go on.” “Your good opinion is of such moment to me,” said Johanna, “for I have very few to love me; now that you have seen me in such a disguise, I should feel unhappy if I did not tell why I wore it.” Ben lent the most attentive ear to what she said, and then Johanna briefly and distinctly told him all the story of Mark Ingestrie, and how he had, as she thought, mysteriously disappeared at the barber’s shop in Fleet Street. It will be seen that she still clung to the idea that the Thornhill of the arrived ship was no other than her lover. Ben heard her all out with the most fixed attention. His mouth and eyes gradually opened wider and wider as she proceeded, partly from wonder at the whole affair, and partly from intense admiration at the way in which she told it, which he thought was better than any book he had ever read. When she had concluded, Ben again folded her in his arms, and she had to struggle terribly to get away. “My dear child,” he said, “you are a prodigy. Why, there’s not an animal as ever I knew comes near you; and so the poor fellow had his throat cut in the barber’s for his string of pearls?” “T fear he was murdered.” “Not a doubt of it.” “You really think so, Ben?” The tone of agony with which this question was put to him, and the look of utter desolation which accompanied it, alarmed Ben, and he hastily said— “Come, come, I didn’t mean that. No doubt something has happened; but it will be all right some day or another, you may depend. Oh, dear!—oh, dear! The idea of your going to watch the barber with some boy’s clothes on!” “Tell me what I can do, for my heart and brain are nearly distracted by my sufferings?” Ben looked all round the room, and then up at the ceiling, as though he had a hope and expectation of finding some startling suggestion written legibly before his eyes somewhere. At length he spoke, saying— “T tell you what, Johanna, my dear, whatever you do, don’t you put on them things again. You leave it all to me.” “But what will you do?—what can you do, Ben?” “Well, I don’t know exactly; but I’Il let you know when it’s done.” “But do not run into any danger for my sake.” “Danger? danger? I should like to see the barber that would interfere with me. No, my dear, no; I’m too well used to all sorts of animals for that. [Il see what I can do, and let you know all about it to-morrow, and in the meantime, you stick to the petticoats, and don’t be putting on those thingamies again. You leave it to me—will you now?” “Until to-morrow?” “Yes, I’ll be here to-morrow about this time, my dear, and I hope I shall have some news for you. Well, I declare, it’s just like a book, it is. You are quite a prodigy.” Ben would have treated Johanna to another of the suffocating embraces, but she contrived to elude him; and, as by this time the old gentleman in the shop was suited with a pair of spectacles, Mr. Oakley returned to the parlour. Johanna placed her finger upon her lips as an indication to Ben that he was to say nothing to her father of what had passed between them, for, although Mr. Oakley knew generally the story of his daughter’s attachment to Mark Ingestrie, as the reader is aware, he knew nothing of the expedition to Fleet Street in disguise. Ben, feeling that he had now an important secret to keep, shut his mouth hard, for fear it should escape, and looked so mysterious, that any one more sharp-sighted than the old spectacle-maker must have guessed that something very unusual was the matter. Mr. Oakley, however, had no suspicions; but as this state of things was very irksome to Ben, he soon rose to take his leave. “T shall look in again to-morrow,” he said, “Cousin Oakley.” “We shall be glad to see you,” said Mr. Oakley. “Yes,” added Johanna, who felt it incumbent upon her to say something, “we shall be very glad to see you indeed.” “Ah,” said her father, “you and Ben were always great friends.” “And we always shall be,” said Ben. Then he thought that he would add something wonderfully clever, so as completely to ward off all suspicions of Oakley’s, if he had any, and he added—“She ain’t like some young creatures that think nothing of putting on what they shouldn’t. Oh dear, no—not she. Bye, bye. I’Il come to-morrow.” Ben was quite pleased when he got out of the house, for among the things that he (Ben) found it difficult to do, was to keep a secret. “Well,” he said, when he was fairly in the open air, “if I ain’t rather nonplussed at all this. What shall I do?” This was a question much easier asked than answered, as Ben found; but, however, he felt an irresistible desire to go and have a look at the shop of Sweeney Todd. “T can easily,” he said, “go to Fleet Street, and then, if I find myself late, I can take a boat at Blackfriars for the Tower Stairs, and after all get in to dinner comfortably enough.” With this conclusion, Ben set off at a good pace down Snow Hill, and was soon at the beginning of Fleet Street. He walked on until CORniclooo S CO)