An' forgive me for lyin', 'cause what I done was Nature, 'cordin' to
Mister Jan; an' Nature's kind to young things, 'cordin' to Mister Jan; an'
I be young yet. An' make me a better lass, for I caan't abear to feel as I
do; an' make me think o' the next world arter this wan. But, oh, dear God,
make me well an' braave agin, for 'tis awful wisht for me wi'out Mister
Jan; an' make Mister Jan strong too. I be all in a miz-maze and doan't knaw
wheer to turn 'cept to Nature, dear Lard. Oh, kind God A'mighty, lemme have
my angel watchin' over me close, same as what mother used to say he did
allus. An' bring Mister Jan back long very quick, 'cause I'm nothin' but
sadness wi'out en. An', dear St. Madern, I ax 'e to bless me same as you
done when--when I was a lil baaby, 'cause I be gwaine to bathe in your
brook, bein' a St. Madern cheel. Oh, dear, good God o' all things, please
to help me an' look to me, 'cause I be very sad, an' I never done no harm
to none, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."
Then she said the Lord's Prayer, because her mother had taught her that no
human petition was ever heard unless accompanied by it. And it seemed as
though the lark, winding upward with wide spiral to his song-throne in the
sky and tinkling thin music on the morning wind, was her messenger: which
thought was beautiful to Joan and made her heart glad.
Never had she looked fairer. Her blue eyes were misty, but the magic of
prayer, the glory of speaking straight to the Father of all, call Him what
she might, had nobly fortified her sinking spirit.
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