When she heard it all, and upon visiting Tobias's bed-room, found what a
sweet sleep he was in, and what a quiet gentle smile was upon his face,
she tearfully acknowledged what a good thing the innocent deception was
which had produced such a result. "It will save him," she said. "It will," replied the colonel; "and be sure that you keep sufficient
guard over yourself to keep from betraying the secret." "Oh, sir, trust me, I will." "And remember that in this house, Minna, it is known only to you and to
me. If Tobias should ask you anything about it, you had better know
nothing, for I promised him that he should have the pleasure of making
the communication to you himself, therefore you cannot be puzzled by any
questions regarding particulars when he is your informant." Minna joyfully concurred with all that the colonel said upon this head;
and then, after a long talk with Mrs. Ragg in the kitchen--that good
lady having the most implicit faith in the story of the death of Todd,
and the profoundest hope that she should soon hear the full particulars
of that event--she betook herself to the bedside of Tobias, there to
await his awakening. When he did open his eyes, they were clear and bright, and the fever had
left his brow and cheeks. The first object his eye rested upon was
Minna, and the first words he said were--

"Todd is dead!" "Ah, then, Tobias, you have nothing now to fear, for you have not an
enemy in the world." "No," he cried, "I have now nothing to fear--but, my Minna, my own, my
beautiful! how much I have to love! We shall be now, Minna, very, very
happy, indeed, and God will bless me for your dear sake!" CHAPTER CIII. MR. LUPIN HAS A SINGULAR INTERVIEW WITH MRS. OAKLEY. Amid all the exciting circumstances that it has been our duty to
relate--amid the turmoil of events consequent upon the wild villainy of
Todd, and the urgent attempts of Mrs. Lovett to get her accounts
audited--we have very much lost sight of Mrs. Oakley. Perhaps the reader has not been altogether unwilling to lose sight of a
lady who, we will admit, was not calculated to make great advances in
his esteem. But yet one thing must be recollected, and that is that Mrs. Oakley is
Johanna's mother! That we opine is a fact which she should be given some
degree of attention for; and insomuch as the bright eyes of the fair and
noble-minded Johanna might be dimmed by an additional tear if anything
very serious was to become of Mrs. Oakley, we will go a little out of
our way just now to see what that deluded parson-ridden woman is about. The outgoings and the incomings of Mrs. Oakley for a long time past had
been so various and discursive, that the poor spectacle-maker had long
since left off considering that he had anything in the shape of a
domestic establishment. Certainly, Johanna was always at hand, until
lately, to attend to her father's comforts--but the wife never. There
was either a prayer-meeting, or a love-feast, or some congregation or
another assembled to hear or to see Mr. Lupin; so that if the wife and
the mother went to such places to learn her duties, it was pretty
evident that the lesson occupied the whole of her time. But still at times she did come home. At odd seasons she was to be found
groaning and snuffling at the fireside in the little dark parlour at the
back of the shop; but now for some few days she had totally disappeared. Mr. Oakley was alone. *       *       *       *       *

Up a dingy court in the City, not a hundred miles from the dingy
purlieus of Monkwell Street, there was a dingy conventicle, upon the
front of which the word "Ebenezer" announced its character, or its
would-be character. The upper part of this chapel was converted into a
dwelling-place, and there luxuriated Mr. Lupin. The flock (geese, of course!) of the reverend gent rented the edifice,
so that there he was rent free, and there he was in the habit of
inviting to tea such of the females of his congregation who either had
money of their own, or whose husbands had tills easily accessible, or
pockets into which the wife's hand could be dipped at discretion; and
dipped it generally was at in-discretion;--for folks, whether they be
wives or not, when they can dip into other folks' pockets, do not always
know how much to take just and no more. Now Mr. Lupin had established a Three-days-two-hours
and-general-subscription-saving grace-prayer, which consisted of praying
every two hours for three days and three nights, and at each prayer
making an offering in hard cash for the use of the church and the
gospel, he (Mr. Lupin) being both the church and the gospel. Alas! what will not human folly in the name of religion stoop to! There
were women--mothers of families, who came to Mr. Lupin's house above the
chapel with what plunder they could get together, and there actually
stand the three days and three nights, the reverend gent making it is
duty to keep them awake at the end of every two hours at least, as he
pretended to pray, and sending them away completely placid, but with the
comfortable conviction, as they themselves expressed it, that their
"souls were saved alive." Mrs. Oakley was one of these dupes. Now, although these proceedings were very profitable to Mr. Lupin, he
found that it was very irksome to get up himself in the middle of the
night to awaken the sinners to prayer, so he used to introduce
brandy-and-water after he had pretty well tired out his devotee, and
ascertained the amount of money he was likely to get, and in the
confusion of mind consequent upon that gentle stimulant, the time went
on very glibly. "Sister Oakley," said Lupin, on the evening of the first day of Mrs.
Oakley's residence beneath his highly-spiritual roof. "Sister Oakley,
truly you will be a great brand snatched from the burning--How much
money have you got?" "Alas!" said Mrs. Oakley, "business must be bad, for I only found in the
till three pounds eleven-and-sixpence." Mr. Lupin groaned. "But I will from time to time take what I can, and let you have it, for
the welfare of one's precious soul is above all price." "Truly, Sister Oakley, it is, and you may as well give me the small
instalment now if it shall seem right unto thee, sister. I thank you in
the name of the Lord! Humph--only three pounds eleven-and-sixpence. Well, well, we shall do better another time, perhaps, sister. Rest in
peace, and I will from time to time come in and awaken thee to prayer. Truly and verily I have a hard time of it always." It was on the second night that fatigue had had a great effect upon Mrs.
Oakley, and upon the reverend gent likewise that he brought her a
tumbler of hot brandy-and-water, saying as he placed it by her--

"Truly I have had a dream, and the Lord told me to give you this. I pray
you take it, Mrs. O., and may it put you in mind of the glory of the
world that is to come--Amen!"