The hour at which she called was such as to
ensure Arabella being within, and the pleasure which showed itself upon
the countenance of the young girl, as she welcomed her old playmate, was
a feeling of the most delightful and unaffecting character. "Why, Johanna," she said, "you so seldom call upon me now, that I
suppose I must esteem it as a very special act of grace and favour to
see you." "Arabella," said Johanna, "I do not know what you will say to me when I
tell you that my present visit is because I am in a difficulty, and want
your advice." "Then you could not have come to a better person, for I have read all
the novels in London, and know all the difficulties that anybody can
possibly get into, and, what is more important, too, I know all the
means of getting out of them, let them be what they may." "And yet, Arabella, scarcely in all your novel reading will you find
anything so strange and so eventful as the circumstances, I grieve to
say, it is in my power to record to you. Sit down, and listen to me,
dear Arabella, and you shall know all." "You surprise and alarm me by that serious countenance, Johanna." "The subject is a serious one. I love." "Oh! is that all? So do I; there's a young Captain Desbrook in the
King's Guards. He comes here to buy his gloves; and if you did but hear
him sigh as he leans over the counter, you would be astonished." "Ah! but, Arabella, I know you well. Yours is one of those fleeting
passions that, like the forked lightning, appear for a moment, and ere
you can say behold, is gone again. Mine is deeper in my heart, so deep,
that to divorce it from it would be to destroy its home for ever." "But, why so serious, Johanna? You do not mean to tell me that it is
possible for you to love any man without his loving you in return?" "You are right there, Arabella. I do not come to speak to you of a
hopeless passion--far from it; but you shall hear. Lend me, my dear
friend, your serious attention, and you shall hear of such mysterious
matters." "Mysterious!--then I shall be in my very element. For know that I quite
live and exult in mystery, and you could not possibly have come to any
one who would more welcomely receive such a commission from you; I am
all impatience." Johanna then, with great earnestness, related to her friend the whole of
the particulars connected with her deep and sincere attachment to Mark
Ingestrie. She told her how, in spite of all circumstances which
appeared to have a tendency to cast a shadow and blight upon their young
affection, they had loved, and loved truly; how Ingestrie, disliking,
both from principle and distaste, the study of the law, had quarrelled
with his uncle, Mr. Grant, and then how, as a bold adventurer, he had
gone to seek his fortunes in the Indian seas; fortunes which promised to
be splendid, but which might end in disappointment and defeat, and that
they had ended in such calamities most deeply and truly did she mourn to
be compelled to state. And she concluded by saying--

"And now, Arabella, you know all I have to tell you. You know how truly
I have loved, and how, after teaching myself to expect happiness, I have
met with nothing but despair; and you may judge for yourself, how sadly
the fate, or rather the mystery, which hangs over Mark Ingestrie, must
deeply affect me, and how lost my mind must be in all kinds of
conjecture concerning him." The hilarity of spirits which had characterised Arabella in the earlier
part of their interview, entirely left her as Johanna proceeded in her
mournful narration, and by the time she had concluded, tears of the most
genuine sympathy stood in her eyes. She took the hands of Johanna in
both her own, and said to her--

"Why, my poor Johanna, I never expected to hear from your lips so sad a
tale. This is most mournful, indeed very mournful; and, although I was
half inclined before to quarrel with you for this tardy confidence--for
you must recollect that it is the first I have heard of this whole
affair--but now the misfortunes that oppress you are quite sufficient,
Heaven knows, without me adding to them by the shadow of a reproach." "They are indeed, Arabella, and believe me, if the course of my love ran
smoothly, instead of being, as it has been, full of misadventures, you
should have had nothing to complain of on the score of want of
confidence; but I will own I did hesitate to inflict on you my miseries,
for miseries they have been, and, alas! miseries they seem destined to
remain." "Johanna, you could not have used an argument more delusive than that. It is not one which should have come from your lips to me." "But surely it was a good motive to spare you pain?" "And did you think so lightly of my friendship that it was to be
entrusted with nothing but what wore a pleasant aspect? True friendship
surely is best shown in the encounter of difficulty and distress. I
grieve, Johanna, indeed, that you have so much mistaken me." "Nay, now you do me an injustice: it was not that I doubted your
friendship for one moment, but that I did indeed shrink from casting the
shadow of my sorrows over what should be, and what I hope is, the
sunshine of your heart. That was the respect which deterred me from
making you a confidant of, what I suppose I must call, this ill-fated
passion." "No, not ill-fated, Johanna. Let us still believe that the time will
come when it will be far otherwise than ill-fated." "But what do you think of all that I have told you? Can you gather from
it any hope?" "Abundance of hope, Johanna. You have no certainty of the death of
Ingestrie." "I certainly have not, as far as regards the loss of him in the Indian
seas; but, Arabella, there is one supposition which, from the first
moment that it found a home in my breast, has been growing stronger and
stronger, and that supposition is, that this Mr. Thornhill was no other
than Mark Ingestrie himself." "Indeed! Think you so? That would be a strange supposition. Have you any
special reasons for such a thought?" "None--further than a something which seemed ever to tell my heart from
the first moment that such was the case, and a consideration of the
improbability of the story related by Thornhill. Why should Mark
Ingestrie have given him the string of pearls and the message to me,
trusting to the preservation of this Thornhill, and assuming, for some
strange reason, that he himself must fall?" "There is good argument in that, Johanna." "And, moreover, Mark Ingestrie told me he intended altering his name
upon the expedition." "It is strange; but now you mention such a supposition, it appears, do
you know, Johanna, each moment more probable to me. Oh, that fatal
string of pearls!" "Fatal, indeed! for if Mark Ingestrie and Thornhill be one and the same
person, the possession of those pearls has been the temptation to
destroy him."