The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 365: what you’re looking at

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

These were questions which the stillness in the chapel below seemed to answer in the affirmative, and once more Mrs. Oakley approached the staircase to descend it. She got three steps down the stairs, and then she heard a footstep below. It was too late. Lupin was coming up. Yes, it was too late! He approached with a heavy and regular footfall. That heaviness and regularity were sufficient evidences that he had not heard her, and had no suspicion that she nor any one else had been a witness to his crime. So far she was comparatively safe, but the blessed chance of escape without any meeting with him was gone. Up—up, he came! Mrs. Oakley retreated step by step as he advanced. She passed into the chamber, which may for distinction’s sake be called her own room, and there she cast herself upon the couch, and closed her eyes shudderingly. She had a presentiment that Lupin would come to look at her to see that she still slumbered. She was right. He had not been in the room where the deed of blood had been committed many minutes, when he opened the door of communication between the two apartments, and came in not with the lantern, but with the candle he had left burning upon the table. He did not come above three steps into the room, and then he spoke— “Sister Oakley it is time to pray.” Mrs. Oakley moved not—spoke not. “Sister Oakley, will you be so good as to rise, and go to the corner of the next street on a little errand for me?” How tempting this was! but Mrs. Oakley had the discretion to imagine the wolf in the sheep’s clothing now; she saw in all this only a clear mode of ascertaining if she were awake or not, and she would not speak nor move. This was, in truth, a wise policy upon the part of Mrs. Oakley. That it was so, became abundantly apparent when Lupin spoke again. “All is right,” he said. “The opiate has done its work bravely, I feel easy now, and yet I don’t know how I came for a moment to feel otherwise, or to imagine for a moment there was danger from this woman. If I only had any proof that there was, I would soon put it beyond her power to be mischievous. But, no—no, she has slept soundly and knows nothing.” It required, indeed, no ordinary nerve during this speech of Lupin’s, for Mrs. Oakley to preserve the stillness of apparent deep sleep; but we none of us know what we can do until we are put to it; after all, what a just punishment to Mrs. Oakley was all that she was now going through. She had had more faith in that bold, bad, mounteback of a parson than in Heaven itself, and she was justly punished. Having then made this trial of her sleeping state, Mr. Lupin retired with the candle again, quite satisfied—at least one would have thought so; and as he had talked of the amazing ease of mind he felt now that he had murdered his wife, it was rather surprising that he did not go to bed and sleep serenely instead of pacing his room to and fro for more than four hours mumbling disjointed words and sentences to himself as he did so, for Mrs. Oakley heard him, but she did not dare to move. Suddenly he flung open the door between the two rooms, and in a startling voice he cried— “Fire! fire!” It was truly a wonder that upon this Mrs. Oakley did not jump up, it sounded so very alarming; but it was not to be, and with a presence of mind that surely was not all her own, she yet remained profoundly still. “Fool that I am,” muttered Lupin, “to be continually assailed by dread of this woman, when everything assures me that she has been in a sound sleep caused by a powerful narcotic, during the whole night; but the morning is now near at hand, and she will soon awaken. I have already got what money I can from her, and I must give her breakfast and then send her off. It would be useless to kill her.” The manner in which Lupin pronounced these last words was very alarming for it implied rather that he was asking himself the question whether it would be useless to kill her or not, than the expression of a decided opinion; but still Mrs. Oakley moved not. Lupin, suddenly, as though he had quite made up his mind not to trouble himself about her any more, slammed to the door of communication between the two rooms. Mrs. Oakley breathed freely again—that is, comparatively freely; and yet what a shocking agonizing idea it was that she might have to breakfast with that dreadful man. What should she say to him?—how should she look at him? The dawn was coming, and she shook with apprehension to find that such was the fact, and Lupin had said that she would soon awaken; so, effect to awaken she must, in order to keep up the delusion; but how should she manage then to deceive the suspicious vigilance of such a man? But all this had to be encountered. How was it to be avoided? She could do nothing but arm herself with such fortitude as she could call to her aid. Oh, how she wished herself in her own parlour behind the shop, and upon her knees asking the pardon of her husband for all that she had done, and for all that she had not done! What would she have not given even to have seen the honest face of big Ben, the beef- eater! The light of the coming day grew each moment stronger, and at length Mrs. Oakley thought it would be prudent to seem to wake up, and calling out “Mr. Lupin! Mr. Lupin!” she rose from the couch. Lupin opened the door of communication between the two rooms, and glared at her. “Did you call, sister Oakley?” “Yes, reverend sir, surely I have been sleeping, and have forgotten some of the prayers.” “No; truly, sister Oakley, I have watched for you, and I can assure you that you will enter into the kingdom always, provided that you are regular in your contributions to the chapel, for at the last that of a surety will be demanded to be known of you, sister Oakley.” “T have been thinking of that, brother Lupin,” said Mrs. Oakley, “and this day week I will manage to bring two pounds.” “Only two?” “T will make it three, if I can, brother Oakley; but my head feels quite confused and giddy. It is very strange.” CORniclooo S CO)