The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 261: what you’re looking at

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

into a doorway, stood trembling like an aspen leaf. “Oh, Heaven!” she ejaculated, “into what a sea of troubles have I plunged. Murder and I will become familiar, and I shall learn to breathe an atmosphere of blood. Oh, horror! horror! horror!” The crowd in that dense thoroughfare passed on, and no one took heed of the seeming boy, as he wept and sobbed in that doorway. Some had no time to waste upon the sorrows of other people;—some buttoned up their pockets as though they feared that the tears that stood upon that pale face were but the preludes to some pecuniary demand;—others again passed on rapidly, for they were so comfortable and cosy that they really could not have their feelings lacerated by any tale of misery, not they. And so Johanna wept alone. Ding dong! ding dong! What is that? Oh, St. Dunstan’s chimes. How long has she been from the the shop? Shall she return to it, or fly at once and seek for refuge from all the sorrows and from all the horrors that surround her, in the arms of her father? “Direct me, oh God!” she cried. Some one suddenly clasps her arm. “Johanna! Johanna!” It was Arabella Wilmot. “Johanna—dear, dear Johanna, you are safe—quite safe. Come home now—oh, come—oh, come—come.” “You here, Arabella?” “Yes, I am mad—mad!—at least, I was going mad, Johanna; in my agony to know what had become of you, and notwithstanding I have told Sir Richard Blunt, I had no faith in the love and the courage of any one but myself. I was coming to Todd’s.” “To Todd’s?” “Yes, dear, to Todd’s. I could not longer exist unless I saw with my own eyes that you were safe.” “What a fatal step that might have been.” “Tt might. Perhaps it would; but God, in his goodness, has again, my dear Johanna, averted it by enabling me to meet you here. Come home now—come at once.” “Yes, I—I think - “Come—come;—you have done already much. Let, for the future, your feelings be that for Mark Ingestrie you have adventured what not one girl in a million would adventure.” At this mention of the name of Mark Ingestrie, a sharp cry of mental agony burst from the lips of Johanna. “Oh, I thank you, Arabella.” “Thank me?” “Yes, you have recalled me to myself. You have, by the mention of that name, recalled me to my duty, from which I was shrinking and falling away. You have told me in the most eloquent language that could be used that as yet I have done nothing for him who is, dead or alive, my heart’s best treasure.” “Oh, Johanna, you will kill me.” “No, Arabella—no. Good-bye. Go home, love—go home, and—and pray—for me—pray for me!” “Johanna, for mercy’s sake! what are you about to do? Speak to me. Do not look upon me in that way. What are you about to to do, Johanna?” “Go to the shop.” “To Todd’s?” “Yes. It is my place—I am in search of Mark Ingestrie. If he be living, it is I who must clear that man who is suspected of his murder. If he be no more, it is I, who weak and fragile as I am, must drag him to justice.” “No—no—no.” “T say yes. Do not stay me if you love me.” Arabella clasped the arm of Johanna, but with a strength that only the immense amount of mental excitement she was suffering from could have given her. Johanna freed herself from the hold of her friend, and dashing from the doorway, was in another moment lost to the sight of Arabella in the barber’s shop. “What now?” cried Todd, fiercely, as Johanna bounded into the shop so hurriedly. “Nothing, sir—only the dog.” “Bolt the door—bolt the door.” “Yes, sir.” Todd wiped his brow. “That infernal dog,” he muttered, “will be the death of me yet; and so, Charley, the malignant beast flew at you, did he? the savage will attack you, will he?” “Yes, sir, SO it seems.” “We will kill it. I should like to cut its throat. It would be a pleasure, Charley. How strange that strong poisons have no effect upon that dog. Curses on it!” CORniclooo S CO)