The String of Pearls (1850), p. 292

to trouble herself much about terrestrial affairs, always except they came to her in the shape of something enticing to the appetites. What a state of things, that
a mother should forget the trust that is placed in her when she is given a child, and fancy she is really propitiating the Almighty by neglecting a stewardship
which He has imposed upon her! But so it is. There are, we fear, in different ways, a great many Mrs. Oakleys in the world.
"Ah, my dear Miss Wilmot," said the old spectacle- maker to Arabella, when he saw her. "How glad I am to see you. How fresh you look."
Arabella's face was flushed with excitement, and some shame that the errand she came upon was to deceive. She had not heard yet of the spurious philosophy that the end sanctifies the means.
"I have come to—to—to—"
"Yes, my dear. To stay awhile, and let us look at your pretty face. Come, my dear Johanna, your mother is out. What can you get for your friend, Miss Wilmot? Here, my dear, take this half-crown and get some sweetmeats, and I will open for you a bottle of the old Malaga wine."
Johanna's eyes filled with tears, and she was compelled to turn aside to conceal those tell-tale traces of emotion from her father. Arabella saw that if anything was to be said or done in furtherance of the affair upon which Johanna had now set her heart, she must do it or say it. Summoning all her courage, she said—
"My dear sir—"
"Sir?—sir? Bless me, my child, when did you begin to call your old kind friend sir?"
"My dear Mr. Oakley—"
"Ah, that's nearer the old way. Well, my dear Arabella, what would you say to me?"
"Will you trust Johanna with me to-night, and perhaps to-morrow night?"
"I don't think Johanna can come to much harm with you, my dear," said Mr. Oakley. "You are older than she a little, and at your age a little goes a long way, so take her, Arabella, and bring her back to me when you like."
With what a shrill of agony did Arabella hear Johanna thus committed to her care. She was compelled to grasp the back of the old spectacle-maker's
chair for support.
"Yes, yes, sir," she said. "Oh, yes, Mr. Oakley."
"Well, my dears, go, and God bless you both."
To both Arabella and Johanna's perception there was something ominous about this blessing, at such a time, and yet it had really about it nothing at al
unusual, for Mr. Oakley was very much in the habit of saying to them "God bless you," when they left him; but feeling, as they, did, the hazard that she (Johanna) might encounter before again she heard that voice say " God bless you," if, indeed, she ever again heard it, no wonder the words sank deep into their hearts, and called up the most painful emotions. Johanna certainly could not speak. Arabella tried to laugh, to hide an emotion that would not be hidden, and only succeeded in producing an hysterical sound, that surprised Mr. Oakley.
"What's the matter, my dear?" he said.
"Oh, nothing—nothing, dear Mr. Oakley, nothing."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps I only fancy it; but you both seem—seem—"
"What do we seem, father?" said Johanna, looking very pale, and speaking with a great effort.
"Not quite as usual, my darling."
"That—that, gasped Johanna, can only be—be fancy."
"Of course not," said Oakley. " Fancy, I think I said it was, or if I did not, I meant to say so, my love."
"Come," said Arabella.
"Yes—yes. Father—father. Good day."