towards mine, I seized and pushed him aside, with a brief curse and a
violent hand. The sharp point of the umbrella slipped; my action gave
it impetus and weight; it penetrated his eye, and--spare me, spare me
the rest. [This instance of vanity, and indeed the whole of Talbot's
history, is literally from facts.]

The old man bent down, and paused for a few moments before he resumed.

Crompton lost his eye, but my punishment was as severe as his. People
who are very vain are usually equally susceptible, and they who feel
one thing acutely will so feel another. For years, ay, for many years
afterwards, the recollection of my folly goaded me with the bitterest
and most unceasing remorse. Had I committed murder, my conscience
could scarce have afflicted me more severely. I did not regain my
self-esteem till I had somewhat repaired the injury I had done. Long
after that time Crompton was in prison, in great and overwhelming
distress. I impoverished myself to release him; I sustained him and
his family till fortune rendered my assistance no longer necessary;
and no triumphs were ever more sweet to me than the sacrifice I was
forced to submit to, in order to restore him to prosperity.

It is natural to hope that this accident had at least the effect of
curing me of my fault; but it requires philosophy in yourself, or your
advisers, to render remorse of future avail. How could I amend my
fault, when I was not even aware of it? Smarting under the effects, I
investigated not the cause, and I attributed to irascibility and
vindictiveness what had a deeper and more dangerous origin.

At college, in spite of all my advantages of birth, fortune, health,
and intellectual acquirements, I had many things besides the one enemy