The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 390: what you’re looking at

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

“Cannot you hang the woman without my help?” “Yes, I think we might, but so material a witness to her infamy as yourself cannot be dispensed with. Of course I do not pretend to be a conjuror, or to say to any man—You Shall be happy in spite of all your prognostications to the contrary but from what you have told me of your story, I must confess that to my perception you take much too gloomy a view of your condition.” “Too gloomy!” exclaimed the cook, as he filled himself up another glass of wine. “Too gloomy! My dear, sir, you don’t know how I loved that girl—you don’t know how I—I—But it is no matter now—all that is past. Oh God! that she should be false to me—she of all persons in the great world!” “And so you will let this little disappointment of the heart, place you in your youth quite beside all possible enjoyment? Is this wise, sir? Is it even manly?” The poor cook was silent for a few moments, and then in a voice of deep emotion, he said— “Sir, you don’t know how much I loved her. You do not know how I pictured to myself happiness with her alone. You do not know, sir, how, even when death stared me in the face, I thought of her and her only, and how—But no matter—no matter, sir. She is false, and it is madness to speak of her. Let her go, sir. It is just possible that in the time to come, I may outlive the despair that now fills my heart.” “You surely will.” “T do not think it. But I will hope that I may.” “And have you really no hope—no innate lurking supposition in your mind, that you may be doing her an injustice in your suspicions of her faith?” “Suspicions?” “Ay, sir, suspicions, for even you must admit that you know nothing.” “Know nothing, sir?” “Absolutely nothing You will find, if you come to consider the affair, that, as I say, you know nothing, but suspect much; and so upon mere suspicion you will make your future life miserable. I would not so bend to circumstances if the whole world stood up before me, and told me I was right in my dread thoughts of one whom I had loved.” The poor cook glanced at Sir Richard Blunt, and for the space of about half a minute, not one word passed between them. Then in a low voice, the cook said— “You have read Romeo and Juliet, sir?” “Yes—what then?” “There is one line there, in which we read that ‘He jests at scars who never felt a wound.’” “Well, how would you apply that line to the present circumstances?” “T would say you have never loved, sir, and I have loved.” “A broad assumption that, my friend,” said Sir Richard Blunt, “a very broad assertion, indeed. But come, I have to spare a short time. Will you, in recompense for what I have done for you, relate to me more fully than you have done, how it is that you suspect her whom you love of falsehood to you?” “Do not say loved, sir; I love her still.” “T am glad to hear it. I pray you to go on, and tell me now all, if you feel that you can have sufficient confidence in me, and that you can view me with a sufficient friendly feeling.” “Oh, sir, why do you doubt me? Do I not owe to you my life? Do I not owe it to you that I escaped the death that without a doubt was designed for me by Todd? and was it not by your persevering, that at length I had patience enough to wait until the proper time had come for my release, when it could be accomplished without the shadow of a doubt as to the result?” “Well,” said Sir Richard Blunt, with a smile, “I hope then that I have established some claim upon you; so now tell me your story, my friend, and at the end of it I will, from my experience, do what I can to bring you substantial comfort.” “You shall hear all, sir,” said the cook, “but comfort and I have parted long since, I fear, from each other for ever.” @909O0OOOO CORniclooo S CO)