Her
father evidently was not one who could or who would advise anything at
all energetic; and as for Big Ben, the conversation she had had with him
upon the subject had quite been sufficient to convince her that to take
him out of the ordinary routine of his thoughts and habits was
thoroughly to bewilder him, and that he was as little calculated to plot
and to plan in any emergency as a child. She would indeed have trembled
at the result of the confidential communication to Big Ben, if she had
been aware of the frightfully imprudent manner in which he had thrown
himself into communication and collision with Todd, the consequences of
which glaring act of indiscretion he was only saved from by Sir Richard
Blunt entering the shop, and remaining there until he (Ben) was shaved. Under all these circumstances, then, Johanna found herself thrown back
upon her old friend Arabella Wilmot. Now, Arabella was the worst adviser
of all, for the romantic notions she had received from her novel
reading, imparted so strong a tone to her character, that she might be
said in imagination to live in a world of the mind. It was, as the
reader will recollect, to Arabella Wilmot that Johanna owed the idea of
going to Todd in boy's apparel--a measure fraught with frightful danger,
and yet, to the fancy of the young girl, fascinating upon that very
account, because it had the appearance as though she were doing
something really serious for Mark Ingestrie. To Arabella, then, Johanna
went, after Ben had left her, and finding her young friend within, she
told her all that had occurred since they last met. "What shall I do?" she said. "I tell my tale of woe, and people look
kind upon me, but no one helps me." "Oh, Johanna, can you say that of me?" "No, no. Not of you, Arabella, for you see I have come to you again; but
of all others, I can and may say it." "Comfort yourself, my dear Johanna. Comfort yourself, my dear friend. Come, now--you will make me weep too, if I see those tears." "What shall I do?--what shall I do?" "There, now, I am putting on my things; and as you are dressed, we will
go out for a walk, and as we go along we can talk of the affair, and you
will find your spirits improve by exercise. Come, my dear Johanna. Don't
you give way so." "I cannot help it. Let us go." "We will walk round St. Paul's Churchyard." "No--no. To Fleet Street--to Fleet Street!" "Why would you wish to add to your sorrows, by again looking upon that
shop?" "I do not know, I cannot tell you; but a horrible species of fascination
draws me there, and if I come from home, I seem as though I were drawn
from all other places towards that one by an irresistible attraction. It
seems as though the blood of Mark Ingestrie called aloud to me to
revenge his murder, by bringing the perpetrators of it to justice. Oh,
my friend--my Arabella, I think I shall go mad." Johanna sunk upon her knees by a chair, and hid her fair face in her
hands, as she trembled with excess of emotion. Arabella Wilmot began to
be really alarmed at the consequences of her friend's excited and
overwrought feelings. "Oh, Johanna--Johanna!" she cried, "cheer up. You shall go when you
please, so that you will not give way to this sorrow. You do not know
how much you terrify me. Rise--rise, I implore you. We will go to Fleet
Street, since such is your wish." After a time, Johanna recovered from the burst of emotion that had taken
such certain possession of her, and she was able to speak more calmly
and composedly to her friend than she had yet done during that visit. The tears she had shed, and the show of feeling that had crept over her,
had been a great relief in reality. "Can you pardon me for thus tormenting you with my grief?" said Johanna. "Do not talk so. Rather wonder how I should pardon you if you tell your
griefs elsewhere. To whom should you bring them but to the bosom of one
who, however she may err in judgment regarding you, cannot err in
feeling." Johanna could only press her friend's hand in her own, and look the
gratitude which she had not the language to give utterance to. It being
then settled that they were to go to Fleet Street, it next became a
matter of rather grave debate between them whether they were to go as
they were, or Johanna was to again equip herself in the disguise of a
boy. "This is merely a visit of observation, Johanna; I will go as I am." "Very well, dear." They accordingly set out, and as the distance from the house of Arabella
Wilmot's father was but short to the shop of Sweeney Todd, they soon
caught sight of the projecting pole that was his sign. "Now be satisfied," said Arabella, "by passing twice; once up Fleet
Street, and once down it." "I will," said Johanna. Todd's shop was closed as usual. There was never an open door to that
establishment, so that it was, after all, but a barren satisfaction for
poor Johanna to pass the place where her imagination, strengthened by
many circumstantial pieces of evidence, told her Mark Ingestrie had met
with his death; still, as she had said to Arabella before starting, a
horrible sort of fascination drew her to the spot, and she could not
resist the fearful attraction that the outside of Todd's shop had for
her. They passed rather rapidly, for Arabella Wilmot did not wish
Johanna to pause, for fear she should be unable to combat her feelings,
and make some sort of exhibition of them in the open street. "Are you content, Johanna?" she said. "Must we pass again?" "Oh, yes--yes. Again and again; I can almost fancy that by continued
looking at that place I could see what has been the fate of Mark." "But this is imagination and folly." "It may be so, but when the realities of life have become so hideously
full of horrors, one may be excused for seeking some consolation from
the fairy cave. Arabella, let us turn again." They had got as far as Temple Bar, when they again turned, and this time
Johanna would not pass the shop so abruptly as she had done before, and
any one, to see the marked interest with which she paused at the window,
would have imagined that she must have some lover there whom she could
see, notwithstanding the interior of the shop was so completely
impervious to all ordinary gazers. "There is nothing to see," said Arabella. "No. But yet--ha!--look--look!" Johanna pointed to one particular spot of the window, and there was the
eye of Sweeney Todd glaring upon them. "We are observed," whispered Arabella; "it will be much better to leave
the window at once. Come away--oh, come away, Johanna." "Not yet--not yet. Oh, if I could look well at that man's face, I think
I ought to be able to judge if he were likely to be the murderer of Mark
Ingestrie." Todd came to his door. "Good God, he is here!" said Arabella. "Come away. Come!" "Never. No! Perhaps this is providential. I will, I must look at this
man, happen what may."