The String of Pearls (1850), p. 271

"Spare me, Ben. If you have any news for me, pray tell me. Do not keep
me in suspense."
Ben considered a little whether what he had to say was news or not; and then taking rather an enlarged view of the word, he added—
"Yes, I have. Todd wants a pious boy."
"A what ?"
"A pious boy. He's got a bill in his window to say that he wants a pious
boy. What do you think of that, now? Did you ever hear of such a villain?
Easy does it. And he came out, too, and wanted to "polish me off."
"Oh, Ben."
"Oh, Johanna. Take things easy."
"I mean that you should be very careful indeed not to go into that man's
shop. Promise me that you will never do so."
"All's right. Never be afeard, or you'd never tame the beastesses. If I was
only to go into that fellow's shop and fix a eye on him so—you'd see!"
Ben fixed one of his eyes upon Johanna in such a manner, that she was glad
to escape from its glare, which was quite gratifying to him (Ben), inasmuch as
it was a kind of tacit acknowledgment of the extraordinary powers of his
vision.
"Easy does it," he said. "All's right. Do you mean to meet this colonel?"
"Yes, Ben."
"All's right. Only take care of yourself down Fleet Street, that's all."
"I will, indeed."
"What do you say to taking me with you?"
"Where, Ben?"
"Why, where you go to meet the colonel, my dear."
"Personally, I should not entertain the smallest objection; but there is no
danger in the transaction. I know that Colonel Jeffery is a man of honour, and
that in meeting him upon such an occasion I am perfectly safe."
"Good again," said Ben. "Easy does it. Hilloa! what's that in the shop?"
"Only my mother come home."
"Only? The deuce! Excuse me, my dear, I must be off. Somehow or another your mother and I don't agree, you see, and ever since I had that dreadful stomach ache one night here, it gives me a twinge to see her, so I'll be off. But remember—easy does it."

CHAPTER LVIII.I

THE GRAND CONSULTATION IN THE TEMPLE.

With this sage aphorism, Ben effected a hasty retreat from the optician's house by ihe private door, so that he should not run the risk of encountering Mrs. Oakley, who had made her appearance by the shop way. When Johanna was alone, she once again read the little missive from the colonel; and then, burying her face in her hands, she tried still to think that it was possible he might have some good news to tell her. And yet, if such had been the case, would he not have written it? Would he, feeling for her as she knew he did, have kept her in a state of suspense upon such a subject? Ah, no. He would rather
have, in spite of all obstacles, made his way into the shop, and called to her—
"Johanna, Mark Ingestrie lives," if he had really been in a position to say so
much. As these thoughts chased each other through the mind of the young
girl, she shed abundance of tears; and so absorbed was she in her grief, that she
was not aware that any one was present, until she felt a light touch upon her
shoulder, and upon starting round suddenly, she saw her friend Arabella Wilmot
standing close to her.