What can you get for your
friend, Miss Wilmot? Here, my dear, take this half-crown and get some
sweetmeats, and I will open for you a bottle of the old Malaga wine." [Illustration: Johanna's Farewell Of Her Father Prior To Her Encounter
With Todd.] Johanna's eyes filled with tears, and she was compelled to turn aside to
conceal those tell-tale traces of emotion from her father. Arabella saw
that if anything was to be said or done in furtherance of the affair
upon which Johanna had now set her heart, she must do it or say it. Summoning all her courage, she said--

"My dear sir--"

"Sir?--sir? Bless me, my child, when did you begin to call your old kind
friend sir?" "My dear Mr. Oakley--"

"Ah, that's nearer the old way. Well, my dear Arabella, what would you
say to me?" "Will you trust Johanna with me to-night, and perhaps to-morrow night?" "I don't think Johanna can come to much harm with you, my dear," said
Mr. Oakley. "You are older than she a little, and at your age a little
goes a long way, so take her, Arabella, and bring her back to me when
you like." With what a shrill of agony did Arabella hear Johanna thus committed to
her care. She was compelled to grasp the back of the old
spectacle-maker's chair for support. "Yes, yes, sir," she said. "Oh, yes, Mr. Oakley." "Well, my dears, go, and God bless you both." To both Arabella and Johanna's perception there was something ominous
about this blessing, at such a time, and yet it had really about it
nothing at all unusual, for Mr. Oakley was very much in the habit of
saying to them "God bless you," when they left him; but feeling, as they
did, the hazard that she (Johanna) might encounter before again she
heard that voice say "God bless you," if, indeed, she ever again heard
it, no wonder the words sank deep into their hearts, and called up the
most painful emotions. Johanna certainly could not speak. Arabella tried
to laugh, to hide an emotion that would not be hidden, and only
succeeded in producing an hysterical sound, that surprised Mr. Oakley. "What's the matter, my dear?" he said. "Oh, nothing--nothing, dear Mr. Oakley, nothing." "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps I only fancy it; but you both
seem--seem--"

"What do we seem, father?" said Johanna, looking very pale, and speaking
with a great effort. "Not quite as usual, my darling." "That--that," gasped Johanna, "can only be--be fancy." "Of course not," said Oakley. "Fancy, I think I said it was, or if I did
not, I meant to say so, my love." "Come," said Arabella. "Yes--yes. Father--father. Good day." She kissed his cheek; and then, before the old man could say another
word, she rushed to the door. "Farewell!" said Arabella. "Good day, Mr. Oakley. I--I thank you, sir. Good day, sir." "Dear, dear," said the old man, "what is the matter with the girls? How
odd they both seem to-day. What can be the cause of it? I never before
saw them so strange in their manner. Ah! I have it. My wife has met
them, I dare say, and has said some unkind things to them about hats or
ribbons, or some harmless little piece of girlish pride. Well--well. All
that will pass away. I'm glad I hit upon it, for--"

At this moment old Oakley was astounded by the sudden entrance of
Johanna, who, clasping him in her arms, cried in a voice, half choked
with tears--

"Good bye, father--good bye. God help me!" Without, then, waiting for a word from the spectacle-maker, she again
rushed from the shop, and joining Arabella a few doors off, they both
hurried to the house of the latter. Old Oakley tottered back until he
came to a seat, upon which he sank, with an air of abstraction and
confusion, that threatened to last him for some time; and in that, for
the present, we must leave him, while we look narrowly at the conduct of
the two young creatures, who have, in the pride of their virtue and
their nobleness of purpose, presumed to set up their innocence against
the deep craft of such a man as Sweeney Todd. Well might Johanna say
"God help me!" "It is done!" said Johanna, as she clutched her friend by the arm. "It
is done now. The worst is over." "Oh, Johanna--Johanna--"

"Well, Arabella, why do you pause? What would you say?" "I scarcely know, and yet I feel that it ought to be something that I
have promised you. I would not say." "Let your lips be sealed, then, dear friend; and be assured that now
nothing but the visible interposition of God shall turn me from my
purpose. I am calm and resolved." These words, few as they were, were too significant, and spoken with too
evident sincerity to permit a doubt of their deep intensity and truth,
and from that moment Arabella Wilmot looked upon the scheme of Johanna
going in disguise to Todd's as quite settled so far as regarded the
attempt. It was the result now only that had to be looked to. "I will say no more, Johanna, except as regards detail. In that I may
offer you advice." "Oh, yes--yes, Arabella. Thankfully received advice, as well you know. What is it you would say?" "That you ought to wait until the morning." "And so perhaps lose precious hours. Oh, no--no. Do not ask me now to
submit to any delays, Arabella." "But if there be reason, Johanna?" "Well, the reason, then--the reason?" "I think that, if possible, it would be well to avoid the necessity of
remaining a night at Todd's; and so if you go in the morning, you see,
Johanna, you may have an opportunity before nightfall of making all the
discoveries you wish, or of satisfying yourself that they are not to be
made at all." "It might be so, and yet--yet I almost think night will be the best time
of all." "But by waiting until to-morrow morning, Johanna, you will have both day
and night." "Yes, yes. I wish I knew what would be the best, Arabella. My feelings
are wound up to this enterprise, and I am altogether in such a frightful
state of excitement concerning it, that--that I know not how I should be
able to support myself under the delay of the remainder of to-day and
the whole of the ensuing night." "In the night you will have repose, and to-morrow morning, with much
more calmness and effect, you will be able to start upon your errand. Believe me, Johanna, I don't counsel this delay with any hope, or wish,
or expectation, that it will turn you from your purpose, but simply
because I think it will the better ensure its successful termination." "Successful! What will you call successful, Arabella?" "Your coming back to me uninjured, Johanna." "Ah, that speaks your love for me, while I--I love him for whose sake I
am about to undergo so much, sufficiently to feel that were I sure he
was no more, my own death at the hands of Sweeney Todd would be
success." "Johanna--Johanna, don't speak in such a strain. Have you no thought for
me? have you no thought for your poor father, to whom, as you well know,
you are the dearest tie that he has in the world? Oh, Johanna, do not be
so selfish." "Selfish?"