If I
was only to go into that fellow's shop and fix a eye on him so--you'd
see!" Ben fixed one of his eyes upon Johanna in such a manner, that she was
glad to escape from its glare, which was quite gratifying to him (Ben),
inasmuch as it was a kind of tacit acknowledgment of the extraordinary
powers of his vision. "Easy does it," he said. "All's right. Do you mean to meet this
colonel?" "Yes, Ben." "All's right. Only take care of yourself down Fleet Street, that's all." "I will, indeed." "What do you say to taking me with you?" "Where, Ben?" "Why, where you go to meet the colonel, my dear." "Personally, I should not entertain the smallest objection; but there is
no danger in the transaction. I know that Colonel Jeffery is a man of
honour, and that in meeting him upon such an occasion I am perfectly
safe." "Good again," said Ben. "Easy does it. Hilloa! what's that in the shop?" "Only my mother come home." "Only? The deuce! Excuse me, my dear, I must be off. Somehow or another
your mother and I don't agree, you see, and ever since I had that
dreadful stomach ache one night here, it gives me a twinge to see her,
so I'll be off. But remember--easy does it." CHAPTER LVIII. THE GRAND CONSULTATION IN THE TEMPLE. With this sage aphorism, Ben effected a hasty retreat from the
optician's house by the private door, so that he should not run the risk
of encountering Mrs. Oakley, who had made her appearance by the shop
way. When Johanna was alone, she once again read the little missive from
the colonel; and then, burying her face in her hands, she tried still to
think that it was possible he might have some good news to tell her. And
yet, if such had been the case, would he not have written it? Would he,
feeling for her as she knew he did, have kept her in a state of suspense
upon such a subject? Ah, no. He would rather have, in spite of all
obstacles, made his way into the shop, and called to her--"Johanna, Mark
Ingestrie lives," if he had really been in a position to say so much. As
these thoughts chased each other through the mind of the young girl, she
shed abundance of tears; and so absorbed was she in her grief, that she
was not aware that any one was present, until she felt a light touch
upon her shoulder, and upon starting round suddenly, she saw her friend
Arabella Wilmot standing close to her. "Johanna?" "Yes--yes, Arabella. I am here." "Yes, dear Johanna. But you are weeping." "I am--I am. To you these tears shall be no secret, Arabella. Alas! alas! You, who know my heart, know how much I have to weep for. You can
bear with me. You are the only one in all the world whom I would
willingly let see these bitter--bitter tears." At those words, Johanna wept afresh, and the heart of her young friend
was melted; but recovering sooner than Johanna, Arabella was able to
speak somewhat composedly to her, saying--

"Have you heard anything, Johanna, new?" "No--no. Except that Mr. Jeffery wishes to see me again to tell me
something, and as he has not said in his letter what it is, I can guess
it is no good news." "Nay; is not that assuming too much?" "No--no. I know he would, if he had had any joyous intelligence for me,
have written it. He would feel of what a suspense even a few hours would
be upon such a subject. No, Arabella, I feel that what he has to say is
some terrible confirmation of my worst fears." Arabella found it no easy task to combat this course of reasoning upon
the part of Johanna. She felt its force, and yet she felt at the same
time that it was somewhat incumbent upon her to resist it, and to make
at least the endeavour to ward off the deep depression that had seized
upon Johanna. "Now listen to me," she said. "Perhaps what Colonel Jeffery has to say
to you is, after all, a something hopeful; but, at the same time, being
only hopeful, and nothing positive, he may have felt how difficult it
was to write it, without exciting undue effects in your mind, and so
prefers saying it, when he can accompany it by all the little collateral
circumstances which alone can give it its proper value." There was something like a gleam of sunshine in this idea. "Do you understand me, dear Johanna?" "Yes--yes." Johanna spoke more firmly than before. The last argument of her friend
had had all its weight with her, and had chased away many of the gloomy
thoughts that had but a few moments before possessed her. What a strange
compound is the human mind, and how singularly does it take its texture,
cameleon-like, from surrounding circumstances? But a few moments since,
and, to Johanna the brief epistle of the colonel was suggestive of
nothing but despair. How different now was its aspect? Arabella Wilmot
had, by a few simple words, placed it in a new light, so that it started
to the imagination of Johanna symbols of life. "Ah! you are hoping now," said Arabella. "I am--I am. Perhaps it is as you say, Arabella. I will think it is." Miss Wilmot was now almost afraid that she had gone too far, and
conjured up too much hope; but she could not bear the idea of dashing
down again the fairy fabric of expectation she had moved in the bosom of
Johanna, and merely added--

"Well, Johanna, since you find that the letter will, at all events, bear
two interpretations, I am sure that, until you may be convinced it owns
to the worst, you will be as composed as possible." "I will. And now, Arabella, will you, and can you accompany me this
evening to the Temple Gardens, to meet Colonel Jeffery?" "Yes, Johanna. I both can and will, if such is your wish." "It is, Arabella, much my wish, for I feel that if what our friend, the
colonel, has to say, should not be of a hopeful character, I should
never be able to repeat it to you, so as to have your opinion of it." "Then we will go together. But we will not pass that dreadful man's
shop." "Todd's?" "Yes." "Why not, Arabella? I feel, the moment that I leave this house, as
though some irresistible fascination dragged me there, and I think I
could no more pass down Fleet Street without directing my eyes to that
building, which perchance has proved fatal to poor Mark, than I could
fly." "But--but, I shrink from that man recognising us again." "We will pass upon the other side of the way, Arabella; but do not say
nay to me, for pass I must." There was such a frantic sort of earnestness in the manner in which
Johanna urged this point, that Arabella no longer made any sort of
opposition to it, and the two young girls soon arranged a time of
meeting, when they would proceed together to the Temple Gardens, to give
Colonel Jeffery the meeting he so much desired. As nothing of a very
particular character occurred that day, we will at once follow Arabella
and Johanna upon the mission, premising that the hours have slipped away
which intervened between the time of Johanna receiving the note from
Colonel Jeffery, and the time when, if she kept the appointment with
him, it would be necessary for her to start from home to do so.