Courage, courage, courage.--Oh, I
could tell you such stories of fine ladies dressing as pages, and
following gallant knights to the field of battle, that you would feel as
though you could go through anything." "But the age of chivalry is gone." "Yes, and why--because folks will not be chivalric. To those who will,
the age of chivalry comes back again in all its glory." "Listen to me, Arabella: if I really thought that Mark was no more, and
lost to me for ever, I could lie down and die, leaving to Heaven the
punishment of those who have taken his life, but in the midst of all my
grief--in the moments of my deepest depression, the thought clings to
me, that he lives yet. I do not know how it is, but the thought of Mark
Ingestrie dead, is but a vague one, compared to the thought of Mark
Ingestrie suffering." "Indeed?" "Yes, and at times it seems as if a voice whispered to me, that he was
yet to be saved, if there existed a heart fair enough and loving enough
in its strength to undertake the task. It is for that reason, and not
from any romantic love of adventure, or hope of visiting with punishment
a bad man, that my imagination clings to the idea of going in boy's
apparel to Fleet-street, to watch, and perchance to enter that house to
which he last went, and from which, according to all evidence, he never
emerged." "And you are really bold enough?" "I hope so--I think, if I am not, God will help me." A sob that followed these words, sufficiently testified how much in need
of God's help poor Johanna was, but after a few minutes she succeeded in
recovering herself from her emotion, and she said more cheerfully--

"Come, Arabella, we talked of a rehearsal of my part; but I shall be
more at ease when I go to act it in reality, and with danger. I shall be
able to comport myself well, with only you for a companion, and such
chance passengers as the streets of the city may afford for my
audience." "I am glad," said Arabella, "that you keep in this mind. Now come and
dress yourself, and we will go out together. You will be taken for my
brother, you know." In the course of a quarter of an hour, Johanna presented the appearance
of as good-looking a lad of about fourteen as the world ever saw, and if
she could but have imparted a little more confidence and boyish bustle
to her gait and manner, she would have passed muster under the most
vigilant scrutiny. But as it was, nothing could be more unlikely than
that any one should penetrate her disguise, for what is not suspected,
is seldom seen very readily. "You will do capitally," said Arabella, "I must take your arm, you know. We will not go far." "Only to Fleet Street." "Fleet Street. You surely will not go so far as that?" "Yes, Arabella. Now that I have attired myself in these garments for a
special purpose, let me do a something towards the carrying it out. By
walking that distance I shall accustom myself to the road; and,
moreover, a dreadful kind of fascination drags me to that man's shop." Arabella, if the truth must be told, shook a little as they, after
watching an opportunity, emerged into the street, for although the
spirit of romantic adventure had induced her to give the advice to
Johanna that she had, her own natural feminine sensibilities shrunk from
the carrying of it out. Ashamed, however, of being the first to condemn
her own suggestion, she took the arm of Johanna, and those two young
creatures were in the tide of human life that ebbs and flows in the
great city. The modest walk and gentle demeanour of the seeming young
boy won Johanna many a passing glance as she and Arabella proceeded down
Ludgate Hill towards Fleet Street, but it was quite clear that no one
suspected the disguise which, to do Arabella justice, in its general
arrangement was very perfect, and as Johanna wore a cap, which concealed
much of the upper part of her face, and into which was gathered all her
hair, she might have really deceived those who were the most intimate
with her, so that it was no wonder she passed unobserved with mere
strangers. In this way, then, they reached Fleet Street without
obstruction, and Johanna's heart beat rapidly as they approached the
shop of Sweeney Todd. "It will be imprudent to stop for even a moment at his door or window,"
said Arabella, "for, remember, you have no opportunity of varying your
disguise." "I will not stop. We will pass rapidly on, but--but it is something to
look upon the doorstep over which the shadow of Mark has last passed." In another moment they were on a level with the shop. Johanna cast a
glance at the window, and then shrunk back with affright as she saw,
occupying one of the upper panes of glass, the hideous face of Todd. He
was not looking at her though, for with an awful squint that revealed
all the whites of his eyes--we were going to say, but the dirty yellows
would have been much nearer the truth--he seemed to be observing
something up the street. "Come on--come on," whispered Johanna. Arabella had not happened to observe this apparition of Todd in the
window, and she looked round to see what occasioned Johanna's sudden
terror, when a young Temple clerk, who chanced to be a few paces behind
them, immediately, with the modesty peculiar to his class, imagined the
glance of the blooming girl to be a tribute to his attractions. He
kissed the end of a faded glove, and put on what he considered a
first-class fascinating aspect. [Illustration: Johanna's Alarm At The Sight Of Sweeney Todd.] "Come on--come on," said Arabella now in her turn. Johanna, of course, thought that Arabella too had caught sight of the
hideous and revolting countenance of Sweeney Todd, and so they both
hastened on together. "Don't look back," said Arabella. "Is he following?" "Oh, yes--yes." Johanna thought she meant Todd, while Arabella really meant the Temple
gent, but, notwithstanding the mutual mistake, they hurried on, and the
clerk taking that as quite sufficient encouragement, pursued them,
putting his cravat to rights as he did so, in order that when he came up
to them, he should present the most fascinating aspect possible. "No--no." said Johanna, as she glanced behind. "You must have been
mistaken, Arabella. He is not pursuing us." "Oh, I am so glad." Arabella looked back, and the Temple gent kissed his dilapidated glove. "Oh, Johanna," she said, "how could you tell me he was not following,
when there he is." "What, Todd?" "No. That impertinent ugly puppy with the soiled cravat." "And you meant him?" "To be sure." "Oh, what a relief, I was flying on, fancying that Todd was in pursuit
of us, and yet my judgment ought at once to have told me that that could
not be the case, knowing nothing of us. How our fears overcome all
reason. Do you know that strange-looking young man?" "Know him? Not I." "Well, my darling," said the gent, reaching to within a couple of paces
of Arabella, "how do you do to-day?--a-hem! Are you going far?