In the open streets she was afraid of making a scene by any further
opposition to Johanna, whose feelings, she saw, were in a great state of
excitement; but she hoped that she would be able yet to dissuade her
from her purpose when she got her home. "Say no more now of it, Johanna, and come home with me, when we will
talk it over more at large." "I am resolved," said Johanna. "The very resolution to do something bold
and definite has given me already a world of ease. I am different quite
in feeling to what I was. I am sure that God is, even now, giving me
strength and calmness to do this much for him who would have risked
anything for me." To reason with any one impressed with such notions would have been folly
indeed, and Arabella forbore doing so at that juncture. She could not
but be amazed, however, at the firmness of manner of Johanna now, in
comparison with the frantic burst of grief which she had so recently
been indulging in. Her step was firm, her lips were compressed, and her
countenance, although more than usually pale, was expressive in every
feature of highly-wrought determination. "She will do it or die," thought Arabella, "and if anything happens to
her, I shall wish myself dead likewise." In this state of feeling--not a very amiable one--the two young girls
reached the abode of Arabella Wilmot. The strongly marked feeling of
composure and determination by no means left Johanna, but, if anything,
seemed to be rather upon the increase, while occasionally she would
mutter to herself--

"Yes--yes; I will know all--I will know the worst." When they were alone in the little chamber of Arabella--that little
chamber which had witnessed so many of the mutual confidences of those
two young girls--Arabella at once began to say something that might
provoke a discussion about the propriety of the hazardous expedition to
Todd's, but Johanna stopped her by saying as she laid her hands gently
upon her arm--

"Arabella, will you do me two favours?" "A hundred; but--"

"Nay, hear me out, dear friend, before you say another word. The first
of those favours is, that you will not, by word or look, try to dissuade
me from my purpose of going in disguise to Todd's. The second is, that
you will keep my secret when I do go." "Oh! Johanna! Johanna!" "Promise me." "Yes. I do--I do." "I am satisfied. And now, my own dear Arabella, let me tell you that I
do not think that there is any such danger as you suppose in the
expedition. In the first place, I do not think Todd will easily discover
me to be aught else than what I pretend to be, and if I should see that
I am in any danger, Fleet Street, with all its living population, is
close at hand, and such a cry for aid as I, being, as I am, forearmed by
being forewarned, could raise, would soon bring me many defenders." Arabella sobbed. "And then, after all, I only want to stay until, by one absence of
Todd's from the house, I shall be able to make a search for some
memorial of the visit of Mark Ingestrie there. If I find it not, I
return to you at once better satisfied, and with better hopes than I
went forth. If I do find it, I will call upon the tardy law for
justice." "Johanna--Johanna, you are not the same creature that you were!" "I know it. I am changed. I feel that I am." Arabella looked at the sweet childish beauty of the face before her, and
her eyes filled with tears again at the thought that something near akin
to despair had implanted upon it that look of unnatural calmness and
determination it wore. "You doubt me?" said Johanna. "Oh! no--no. I feel now that you will do it, and feeling that, I
likewise feel that I ought not to drive you to seek assistance from
another, in your enterprise. But something must be arranged between us." "In what respect?" "Such as, if I should not hear of you within a certain time, I--I--"

"You would feel bound to find me some help. Be it so, Arabella. If I do
not come to you or send to you, before the midnight of to-morrow, do
what you will, and I shall not think that you have committed any breach
of faith." "I am content, Johanna, to abide by those conditions; and now I will say
nothing to you to bend you from your purpose, but I will pray to Heaven
that you may become successful, not in finding any record of Mark
Ingestrie, but in procuring peace to your mind by the utter absence of
such record." "I will go now." "No--no, Johanna. Bethink you what pain your unexplained absence would
give to your father. Something must be said or done to make him feel at
ease during the, perhaps, many hours that you will be absent." "It is well thought of, Arabella. Oh! how selfish we become when
overwhelmed by our own strange emotions! I had forgotten that I had a
father." It was now agreed between the two young girls that Johanna should go
home, and that Arabella Wilmot should call for her, and ask Mr. Oakley's
permission for her (Johanna) to come to her upon a visit for two days. It was no very unusual thing for Johanna to pass a night with her
friend, so that it was thought such a course now would have the effect
of quieting all anxiety on account of the absence of the young girl from
her parental home. CHAPTER LX. TODD FINDS A BOY. "Temporary insanity, and a dividend of one shilling upon the razor!" Such was the enlightened verdict of twelve sapient shopkeepers in the
Strand upon John Mundell--peace to his manes! He is gone where there are
no discounts--no usury laws--no unredeemed pledges, and no strings of
pearls! Good day to you, John Mundell! "Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Sweeney Todd. "That affair is settled in an
uncommonly satisfactory manner. What an odd thing it is, though, that
nobody now comes into my shop, but somebody else, upon some shuffling
excuse or another, comes in within two minutes afterwards. Now, if I
were superstitious, which--I--I am not--"

Here Todd looked first over his right shoulder and then over his left,
with two perceptible shudders. "If, as I say, I were superstitious which--Hilloa! who's this?" "Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Todd," said a woman in widow's weeds, as she
entered the shop, "but they do say that--that--"

"What?" screamed Todd, "what?" "That you are charitable to the poor." "Oh, that's all. I--I. That's all. Very good. I am charitable to the
poor. Very--very charitable to the poor. What may your business be,
madam?" "You don't know me, Mr. Todd, I dare say, but my name is Slick." "Slick--Slick? No, madam, I have not the pleasure of knowing you; and
may I again ask why I am honoured with the visit?" "Why, sir, I have got up a little humble petition. You see, sir, my
husband, Solomon Slick, is a watch-maker, and one day, about a month
ago, he went out to go to the city with two chronometers, to take to
Brown, Smuggins, Bugsby, and Podd, who employ him, and he was never
afterwards heard of, leaving me with six children, and one at the
breast.