The String of Pearls (1850), p. 436

to my conviction that you became this man's victim, and that that fatal String of Pearls, which you fondly thought would be a means of uniting us together by removing the disabilities of want of fortune, has been your death. That waistcoat, which your faithful dog has carried with him, is another relic of you, and this scrap of paper is but another link in the chain of circumstances that convinces me we shall never meet again in this world."
Poor Johanna was absolutely reasoning herself into an agony of grief when the door of the shop opened, and an old man with white hair made his appearance.
"Is Mr. Todd within?" he said.
"No, sir," replied Johanna.
"And is it possible," added the old man, straightening himself up, "that I am disguised so well that even you do not know me, Johanna?"
In a moment now she recognised the voice. It was that of Sir Richard Blunt.
"Oh, sir," she said, "I do indeed know you now, and I am very—very wretched."
"Has anything new occurred, Johanna, to produce this feeling?"
"Yes, sir. The dog, that my heart tells me belonged to poor Mark, has been over here, and with a rare instinct he found a piece of apparel, in the pocket of which was this paper. It is in his writing. I know it too—too well to be denied. Ah, sir, you, even you, will no longer now seek to delude me with false hopes. But do not tarry here, sir; Todd has been long gone, and may at any chance moment come back again."
"Be at rest upon that point, Johanna. He cannot come back without my being made aware of it by my friends without. But tell me in what way you attach such serious importance to this piece of paper, Johanna?"
"In what way, my dear friend? Do I not say that it is in poor Mark's own handwriting? How could it come here unless he brought it? Oh, sir, do not ask me in what way I attach importance to it. Rather let me ask you how, otherwise than upon the supposition of his having become one of Todd's victims, can you account for its being here at all?
"Really," said Sir Richard, "this Mark Ingestrie must have been a very forgetful young man/'
"Forgetful?"
"Yes. It seems that it was necessary for him to carry your name and address in his pocket. Now if he had given such a slip of paper as this to another person for fear he should forget what was not so deeply imprinted in his memory, I should not have wondered at it for a moment."
Johanna clasped her hands and looked the magistrate in the face, as she said—
"Then, sir, you think—that is, you believe—that—that this is no proof of poor Mark having been here?"
"As I hope for mercy in Heaven, it is to my mind a proof the other way, Johanna."
She burst into a passion of hysterical weeping. Sir Richard Blunt knew too much of human nature to interfere by word or gesture, with this effort of nature to relieve the overchanged heart and he waited patiently, affecting to be looking upon some old prints upon thew r all until he heard the sobs decrease to sighs. Then he turned with a smile to Johanna, and said—
"My dear girl, gather hope from that scrap of paper, not despair. Depend upon it the address of your father held too conspicuous a place in the heart of him who loved you to require that it should have been written upon a piece of paper. You know that my theory on the subject is that Mr. Thornhill was actually sent to you by Mark Ingestrie, and that it was he who perished here."
"And Mark himself—if that were so?"
"His fate has still to be elucidated; but that he perished here I do not believe, as I have often told you."