The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 373: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER CXIII. JOHANNA HAS PLENTY OF COMPANY AT TODD'S. We return to Johanna, whom for a few hours, owing to the pressure of other circumstances, we have been compelled, with all manner of reluctance, to neglect. Recent events, although they had by no manner of means tended to decrease the just confidence which Johanna had in her own safety, had yet much agitated her; and she at times feared that she should not be able to carry on the farce of composure before Todd much longer. “Charley, my dear boy,” said Todd, “you are a very good lad, indeed, and I like you.” “T am very glad to hear you say so, sir—very glad.” “That is right; but when I say I like any one, I do not confine myself to that mere expression of liking, and there an end. Of course, as a religious man, I love my enemies, and feel myself bound to do so—eh Charley?” “Of course, sir.” Poor Johanna had no recourse but to seem to be deceived by this most disgusting hypocrisy. “But although,” continued Todd, waving a razor in the air; “although I may love my enemies, I need not to go out of my way, you know, Charley, to do good things to them as I would to my friends; but you I will do all I can for; and as it may very materially help you to get an honest independence in the course of a little time, I will manage to accommodate you with sleeping here to-night and all nights henceforth.” “How kind of you, sir!” “T am glad you appreciate it, Charley; and I feel quite sure that your slumber will be most profound.” Todd, upon this, made one of his diabolical faces, and then, taking his hat, he marched out, merely adding as he crossed the threshold of the door— “T shall not be long gone, Charley.” The day was on the decline, and a strong impression came over Johanna’s mind that something in particular would happen before it wholly passed away into darkness. She almost trembled to think what that something could be, and that she might be compelled to be a witness to violence, from which her gentle spirit revolted; and had it not been that she had determined nothing should stop her from investigating the fate of poor Mark Ingestrie, she could even then have rushed into the street in despair. But as the soft daylight deepened into the dim shadows of evening, she grew more composed, and was better able, with a calmer spirit, to wait the progress of events. “T am alone once more,” said Johanna, “in this dreadful place. Again he leaves me with all my dark and terrible thoughts of the fate of him whom I have so fondly loved thronging around my heart; and this night, no doubt, he thinks to kill me! Oh, Mark Ingestrie! if I were only but quite sure that you had gone to that world from whence there is no return, I think I could, with scarce a sigh, let this dreadful man send me after you!” Johanna rested her head upon her hands, and wept bitterly. Suddenly a voice close to her said— “St. Dunstan.” She sprang from the little low seat upon which she was, and, with a cry of alarm, was about to make a rush from the shop, when the intruder caught her by the arm, saying— “Don’t you know me, Johanna?” “Ah, Sir Richard! my dear friend, it is, indeed, you, and I am safe again—I am safe!” “Certainly you are safe; and permit me to say that you have all along been tolerably safe, Johanna. But how very incautious you are, Here I have come into the shop, and actually stood by you for some few moments, you knowing nothing of it! What now if Todd had so come in?” “He would have killed me.” “He might have done so. But now all danger is quite over, for you will have protectors at your hand. Do you know where Todd has gone?” “T do not.” “Well, it don’t matter. Let me look at this largest cupboard. I wonder if it will hold two of my men? Let me see. Oh, yes, easily and comfortably. I will be back in a moment.” He went no further than the door, and when he came back, he brought with him Mr. Crotchet and another person, and pointing to the cupboard, he said— “You will stow yourselves there, if you please, and keep quiet until I call upon you to come out.” “T believe you,” said Crotchet. “Lord bless you, we shall be snug enough. How is you, Miss O.? I suppose by this time you feels quite at home in your breech , “Silence!” said Sir Richard. “Go to your duty at once, Crotchet. Miss Oakley is in no humour to attend to you just now.” CORniclooo S CO)