"

"You're all your letters said you were," said Mary Warren, weeping now.
"Any woman who would deceive such a man----"

"You ain't deceived me none," said Sim Gage. "But it's wrong of me to
fool a woman such as you, and I'm sorry. Only, just don't you git
scared too much. I'm a-going to take care of you the best I know how."

"But it wasn't true!" she broke out--"what the conductor said! It
isn't just a cinder in my eye--it's worse. My eyes have been getting
bad right along. I couldn't see _anything_ to-day. You didn't know.
I lost my place. I have no relatives--there wasn't any place in the
world for me. I was afraid I was going blind--and yesterday I _did_ go
blind. I'll never see again. And you're kind to me. I wish--I
wish--why, what shall I _do_?"

"Ma'am," said Sim Gage, "I didn't know, and you didn't know. Can you
ever forgive me fer what I've done to you?"

"Forgive you--what do you mean?" she said. "Oh, my God, what shall I
do!"

Sim Gage's face was frowning more than ever.

"Now, you mustn't take on, ma'am," said he. "I'm sorry as I can be fer
you, but I got to drive these broncs. But fer as I'm concerned--it
ain't just what I want to say, neither--I _can't_ make it right plain
to you, ma'am. It ain't right fer me to say I'm almost _glad_ you
can't see--but somehow, that's right the way I do feel! It's
mercifuler to _you_ that way, ma'am."

"What do you mean?" said Mary Warren. She caught emotion in this man's
voice. "Whatever can you _mean_?"

"Well," said Sim Gage, "take me like I am, setting right here, I ain't
fitten to be setting here. But I don't _want_ you to see. I got that
advantage of you, ma'am. I can _see_ you, ma'am"; and he undertook a
laugh which made a wretched failure.

"How far is it to your--our--the place where we're going?" she asked
after a time.

"About twenty-three mile, ma'am," he answered cheerfully. "Road's
pretty fair now. I wish't you could see how pretty the hills
is--they're gitting green now some."

"And the sky is blue?" Her eyes turned up, sensible of no more than a
feeling that light was somewhere.

"Right blue, ma'am, with leetle white clouds, not very big. I wish't
you could see our sky."

"And trees?"

"Dark green, ma'am--pine trees always is."

She heard the rumble of the wheels on planks, caught the sound of
rushing waters.

"This is the bridge over the West Fork, ma'am," said her companion.
"It's right pretty here--the