" Here she felt herself at one with the world spread round her. The
mother eyes of a blackbird, sitting upon her eggs in the ivy-tod, kept
their bright gold on Joan, but showed no fear; the young rabbits frisked at
hand; a mole poked his snout and little paddle-paws out of the grass; all
was peace and happiness, it seemed, with the voice of good St. Madron
murmuring love in his brooklet at hand.
Joan knelt down by the old altar and bowed her head there and prayed to
Nature and to God. At first merely wordless prayers full of passionate
entreaty rose to the Throne; then utterance came in a wild simple throng of
petitions; and all her various knowledge, won from her mother and John
Barren, found a place. Pan and Christ might each have heard and listened,
for she called on the gods of earth and heaven from a heart that was full.
"Kind Mother o' the flowers, doan't 'e forget a poor maiden what loves 'e
so dear. I be sad an' sore-hearted 'cause things is bad wi' me now Mister
Jan's gone; an' I knaws as I've lied an' bin wicked 'bout Joe, but, kind
Mother, I awnly done what Mister Jan, as was wise an' loved me, bid. Oh,
God A'mighty, doan't 'E let en forget me, 'cause I've gived up all--all the
lil I had for en, an' Nature made me as I be. Oh, kind God, make me happy
an' light-hearted an' strong agin, same as the lil birds an' sich like is
happy an' strong; an' forgive me for all my sins an' make me well for
Mister Jan, an' clever for Mister Jan, so's I'll be a fine an' good wife to
en.
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