But all his fame could not extinguish the bitter remembrance, which had tormented him through life.  Never, never, had he forgotten his father’s sorrowful and upbraiding look.  Never—­though the old man’s troubles had been over so many years—­had he forgiven himself for inflicting such a pang upon his heart.  And now, in his old age, he had come hither to do penance, by standing at noon-day in the market-place of Uttoxeter, on the very spot where Michael Johnson had once kept his bookstall.  The aged and illustrious man had done what the poor boy refused to do.  By thus expressing his deep repentance and humiliation of heart, he hoped to gain peace of conscience, and the forgiveness of God.

My dear children, if you have grieved—­I will not say, your parents—­but, if you have grieved the heart of any human being, who has a claim upon your love, then think of Samuel Johnson’s penance!  Will it not be better to redeem the error now, than to endure the agony of remorse for fifty years?  Would you not rather say to a brother—­“I have erred!  Forgive me!”—­than perhaps to go hereafter, and shed bitter tears upon his grave?

Hardly was the story concluded, when George hastily arose, and Edward likewise, stretching forth his hands into the darkness that surrounded him, to find his brother.  Both accused themselves of unkindness; each besought the other’s forgiveness; and having, done so, the trouble of their hearts vanished away like a dream.

“I am glad!  I am so glad!” said Emily, in a low, earnest voice.  “Now I shall sleep quietly to-night.”

“My sweet child,” thought Mrs. Temple, as she kissed her, “mayest thou never know how much strife there is on earth!  It would cost thee many a night’s rest.”

Chapter VI

About this period, Mr. Temple found it necessary to take a journey, which interrupted the series of Biographical Stories for several evenings.  In the interval, Edward practised various methods of employing and amusing his mind.

Sometimes he meditated upon beautiful objects which he had formerly seen, until the intensity of his recollection seemed to restore him the gift of sight, and place every thing anew before his eyes.  Sometimes he repeated verses of poetry, which he did not know to be in his memory, until he found them there, just at the time of need.  Sometimes he attempted to solve arithmetical questions, which had perplexed him while at school.

Then, with his mother’s assistance, he learned the letters of the string-alphabet, which is used in some of the Institutions for the Blind, in Europe.  When one of his friends gave him a leaf of Saint Mark’s Gospel, printed in embossed characters, he endeavored to read it by passing his fingers over the letters, as blind children do.