Once, beside the foot of the cross which stood in Sancreed [Footnote: This
fine sculptured cross has since these events been placed within the said
churchyard, at the desire of Mr. A. G. Langdon, the greatest living
authority on the subject of Cornish remains.] churchyard wall, between two
tree-trunks under a dome of leaves, the girl found growing a spotted
persicaria, and the force of the discovery at such a spot was great to her.
Familiar with the legend of the purple mark on every leaf of the plant,
nothing doubting that it had aforetime grown at the foot of the true cross
and there been splashed with the blood of her Master, Joan accepted the old
story that henceforth the weed was granted this proud livery and badge of
blood. And now, finding it here, the fable revived with added truth and
conviction, the legend of the persicaria was as true to her as that other
of the Lord's resurrection from death. Thus her views of Nature suffered
some approach to debasement in a new direction, but this degradation, so to
call it, brought mighty comfort to her soul, daily rounded the ragged edges
of life, woke merciful trust and belief in a promised life of bliss beyond
the grave, and embroidered thereupon a patchwork, not unbeautiful, built of
fairy folk-lore, saintly legend and venerable myth. Her credulous nature
accepted right and left; anything that harbored a promise or was lovely or
wonderful in itself found acceptance; and Joan read into the very pulses of
the summer world the truth as she now understood it.
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