Both the
young girls made as great alterations in their attire as they could upon
this occasion, so that they should not be strikingly recognisable again
by Todd; and then Arabella reminding Johanna that the bargain between
them was to pass upon the other side of the way, they both set off from
the old spectacle-maker's. As they neared Fleet Street, the agitation of
Johanna became more and more apparent, and Arabella was compelled to
counsel her to calmness, lest the passers-by should notice how much she
felt, from some cause to them unknown. "My dear Johanna," she said. "Your arm trembles in mine. Oh! pray be
calm." "I will--I will. Are we near?" "Yes. Let us cross." They reached the other side of the way from that on which Todd's shop
was situated, to the great relief of Arabella, who as yet knew not of
the placard that Todd had exhibited in his window, announcing the want
of a pious youth. The sight of the shop, however, seemed to bring that
circumstance to the mind of Johanna, and she told her young friend of it
at once. "Oh! Johanna," said Arabella, "does it not seem as though--"

She paused, and Johanna looked enquiringly at her, saying--

"What would you say, Arabella? What would you say?" "Nothing now, Johanna. Nothing now. A thought struck me, and when we
return from this meeting with your friend, the colonel, I will
communicate it to you. Oh! do not look opposite. Do not." All such injunctions were thrown away upon Johanna. Look opposite she
did, and as she herself had truly said, it would have been quite
impossible for her to avoid the doing so, even if the greatest personal
risk had been risked in the action. But Todd's shop, to look at from the
other side of the way, presented no terrors. It simply presented the
idea of a little barber's shop, of no very great pretensions, but of
sufficient respectability, as barber's shops were in those days, not to
make any decent person shrink from going into it. No doubt, in the crowd
of Fleet Street--for Fleet Street was then crowded, although not to the
extent it is now--Johanna and her friend passed quite unnoticed by Todd,
even if he had been looking out. At all events, they reached Temple Bar
without any obstruction or adventure. Finding, then, that they had
passed the main entrance to the Temple, they went down the nearest
adjacent street, and pursuing a circuitous route through some
curious-looking courts, they reached their destination yet a little
before the appointed hour. Colonel Jeffery, however, was not likely to
keep Johanna Oakley waiting. "There," said Arabella. "Is that the colonel?" Johanna looked up just as the colonel approached, and lifted his hat. "Yes, yes." In another moment he was with them. There was a look upon the
countenance of Colonel Jeffery of deep concern, and that look, at one
glance that was bestowed upon it by Johanna Oakley, was quite sufficient
to banish all hidden hopes that she might yet have cherished regarding
the character of the news that he had to impart to her. Arabella Wilmot,
too, was of the same opinion regarding the physiognomical expression of
the colonel, who bowed to her profoundly. [Illustration: Johanna And Arabella Meet And Consult Colonel Jeffery, In
Temple Gardens.] "I have brought my dearest friend with me," said Johanna, "from whom I
have no secrets." "Nor I," said the colonel, "now that I hear she stands in such an
enviable relation to you, Miss Oakley." Arabella slightly bowed; and Johanna fixing her eyes, in which tears
were glistening, upon him, said--

"You have come to tell me that I may abandon all hope?" "No--no; Heaven forbid!" A bright flush came over the face of the young girl, and clasping her
hands, she said--

"Oh, sir, do not play with feelings that perhaps you scarcely guess at. Do not tamper with a heart so near breaking as mine. It is
cruel--cruel!" "Do I deserve such a charge," said the colonel, "even by implication?" "No--no," said Arabella. "Recollect yourself, Johanna. You are unjust to
one who has shown himself to be your friend, and a friend to him whom
you hope to see again." Johanna held out her little child-like hand to the colonel, and looking
appealingly in his face, she said--

"Can you forgive me? It was not I who spoke, but it was the agony of my
heart that fashioned itself at the moment into words my better judgment
and my better feelings will not own. Can you forgive me?" "Can I, Miss Oakley! Oh, do not ask me. God grant that I could make you
happy." "I thank you, sir, deeply and truly thank you; and--and--now--now--"

"Now, you would say, tell me my news." "Yes. Oh, yes." "Then let us walk upon this broad path, by the river, while, in the
first instance, I tell you that it was only from a deep sense of duty,
and a feeling that I ought not, upon any consideration, to keep anything
from you, that I came here to-day to give you some more information, and
yet fresh information." "You are very--very good to me, sir." "No--no, do not say that, Miss Oakley. I am a friend. I am only very
selfish; but, in brief, the lad who was in the barber's service at the
time we think Mark Ingestrie called at the shop with the string of
pearls in his possession, has told us all he knows upon the subject,
freely." "Yes--yes; and--and--"

"He knows very little." "But that little?" "Just amounts to this:--That such a person did come to the shop, and
that he is quite clear that he never left it." "Quite clear that he never left it!" repeated Johanna--"that he never
left it. Quite clear that--that--"

She burst into tears, and clung to Arabella Wilmot for support. The
colonel looked inexpressibly distressed, but he did not speak. He felt
that any common-place topics of consolation would have been an insult;
and he had seen enough of human feelings to know that such bursts of
passionate grief cannot be stemmed, but must have their course, and that
such tears will flow like irresistible torrents into the ocean of
eternity. Arabella was greatly distressed. She had not expected that
Johanna would have given way in such a manner, and she looked at Colonel
Jeffery as though she would have said--"Is it possible that you can say
nothing to calm this grief?" He shook his head, but made no reply in
words. In a few moments, however, Johanna was wonderfully recovered. She
was able to speak more composedly than she had done since the
commencement of the interview. "Tell me all, now," she said. "I can bear to hear it all." "You know all, Miss Oakley. The poor boy, in whose fate I have felt
sufficiently interested to take him into my care, says that such a man
as Thornhill did come to his master's shop. That he (the boy) was sent
out upon some trivial errand, merely to get him out of the way, and
that, pending his return, the visitor disappeared. He deposes to the
fact of the dog watching the door." "The dog?" "Yes. Thornhill, it seems, had a faithful dog with him." "Ah, Arabella, we must have seen that dog."