July would think she had gone off in a trance.
"May-e! Gal!" He called her and felt for the pulse in her wrist.
She waited a little before she answered feebly, "Is you call me, July?" and put a blind hand out to feel for him. "My eyes is gone blind, July. Dey can' see a bit. You done ruined me fo good."
"Great Gawd, gal. I didn't mean to hurt you so bad. Le' me go for Auntie." But she begged him not to leave her. She wanted him to stay by her. And he did, pleading with her to forgive him, promising her he would never do such a thing again; he was worried and fretted, so he forgot himself. After she was quiet and ready to sleep he sat by the fire a long time, staring at it and studying. Cinder had him conjured, poor fellow. That was his trouble. Cinder's black hand had him all but out of his mind.
For three days Mary made like she was nearly dead. She stayed in bed, while July waited on her and cooked for her and washed her face and tended to her as though she were a baby. He thought she was crippled, and he could not bear for anybody to know he had done it. Once he wept with grief and shame, but Mary had learned her lesson too. A strong man's hand can fall heavy, and the best way to deal with strength is
