"The barber's boy," she thought, "who went over the way and found his
father there? Those words are for me." She was now in quite a fever of anxiety to leave the shop, for she did
not doubt but that by some means her father had heard of her position,
and she felt that then nothing but the actual sight of her in perfect
health and safety would satisfy him. But she dared not show the anxiety
she felt. She bent over the fire, and affected to be stirring the turf. "You can go and get your breakfast, Charley," said Todd. "Thank you, sir." Johanna would not betray any haste, but she shook with agitation as she
neared the door; and then she recollected that she had not taken the
twopence from the till as she had been told to do, and that the
circumstance of not doing so might create suspicion. She crept back and possessed herself of the pence. Todd watched her with
the eyes of a demon. "Are you going, my dear Charley?" he said. "Yes, sir." She left the shop, and then her first impulse would have induced her to
hurry over the road to the fruiterer's shop, but her eyes fell upon the
figure of Sir Richard Blunt standing in the fruiterer's doorway. He
moved his hand signifying that she should go towards the market, and she
did so. He quickly followed her. She did not look behind her, until she was quite in the old
Fleet-market; and then, just as she looked round, Sir Richard Blunt
touched her arm. "You understood my message?" he said. "Yes. My father." "Exactly. It is concerning him. It appears that some busy-body, a man I
understand named Lupin, has seen you in your present disguise, and
informed him of it." "I know the man. He is one of those saintly hypocrites, who make
religion the cloak for their vices." "Yes, there are not a few of them," said Sir Richard. "They revel in
vice, and daily try to make the Almighty an accomplice in their offences
against society. Well, then, Johanna, this man has tortured your father
with an account of your being in this disguise." "It would torture him." "Naturally, without he knew all the reasons for it; but it appears that
he went to the house of Miss Wilmot, and after some trouble saw her,
when she, finding that he knew quite enough to make him wretched, and
not enough to explain your position, frankly told him all, and brought
him to me." "It was the best." "Most decidedly it was, and I need only say that he is anxiously waiting
to see you, at our friend the fruiterer's house; but as it would not do
for you to go direct from Todd's door to there, I have intercepted you,
you see, to take you by a safer route." "How good, and kind, and considerate you are to me," said Johanna, as
she looked up in the face of the magistrate, while tears started to her
eyes. "Without you how miserably I must have failed in this adventure. Todd would no doubt before this have discovered me, and taken my life." "Don't say a word about that," replied Sir Richard. "Recollect that
after all it was my duty to protect you; and if I have been a little
more anxious than usual in the performance of that duty, it is because I
admire your heroic constancy and courage, and hope to see you happy
yet." "Alas! the sun of my happiness has set for ever. I can only now pray to
Heaven, that it will endow me with patience to bear its decrees with
serenity." "Well," added Sir Richard, "we will say no more upon that subject, just
now. Come with me, and I will take you to your father by a safer way
than just crossing the road from Todd's shop to the fruiterer's." He led her down a court in Bridge-street, and thence through a complete
labyrinth of passages, some of which still exist at the back of Fleet
Street, and some of which have been swept away, until they reached a
door in a dingy-looking wall, at which he paused. "This is the back of the fruiterer's house," he said, "and I dare say
some one is waiting for me." He tapped three times distinctly at the door, and then it was opened
immediately by the fruiterer's daughter, who with a smile clasped
Johanna in her arms. "Welcome," she said. "Welcome once again." "Ah, my dear friend," said Johanna, "I shall learn to bless the
circumstances, commencing in affliction as they did, that have brought
me acquainted with such kind hearts." They all three now crossed a little paved yard, and were soon in the
fruiterer's house. "Where is my dear father?" said Johanna. "Where is he?" "This way," said the young girl, who took so great an interest in the
fate of Johanna. "This way, dear. He is in our room up stairs, and will
be no less delighted to see you, then you will be delighted to see him." "I am sure of that," said Johanna. She ran up the stairs with more speed that the fruiterer's daughter
could make, and in another moment was in her father's arms. CHAPTER XCII. MR. OAKLEY'S ANXIETIES MUCH DIMINISH. For some few moments after this meeting, neither Mr. Oakley nor Johanna
could speak. At length the old spectacle-maker was just able to say--

"Great God, I thank thee, that once again I hold my darling to my
heart." "Father--father," said Johanna. "Did you think for one moment that I
could have left you?" "No my dear, no; but I was bewildered by all I heard. I was half mad I
think until I was told all; and now we will go home, my pretty darling,
at once, and we will have no secrets from each other. Dear heart, what a
pretty boy you make to be sure. But come--come. I am in an agony until I
have you home again." "Father, listen to me." "Yes my child--my darling. Yes." "If it had not been for Sir Richard Blunt I should now have been with
the dead, and you and I would never have met again, but in another
world, father. I owe him, therefore, you will say, some gratitude." "Some gratitude, my darling? We owe him a world of gratitude. Alas, we
shall never be able to repay him, but we will pray that he may be as
happy as his noble heart deserves, my dear. God bless him!" "And, father, we will do any little thing he asks of us." "We will fly to obey his commands, my dear, in all things. Night or day,
he will only have to speak to us, and what he says shall be our law." "Then, father, he asks of me, for the cause of public justice, that I
should go back to Todd's, and wear this dress for the remainder only of
to-day. Can we refuse him?" "Alas! Alas!" said the old man, "more trouble--more anxiety--more
danger." "No, father. No danger. He will watch over me, and I have faith that
Heaven is with me." "Can I part with you again?" "Yes, for such an object. Do not, father, say no to me, for you may say,
and I will obey you; but with your own free consent, let me go now, and
do the bidding of the great and the good man who has saved me to once
more rest upon your breast, and kiss your cheek." The old man shook for a moment, and then he said--

"Go, go, my child. Go, and take with you my blessing, and the blessing
of God, for surely that must be yours; but, oh! be careful.