There was a mystery about her, too, which worked strongly on the hearts of the West-country people.

She was supposed to be at times "not right;" and wandering intellect is with them, as with many primitive peoples, an object more of awe than of pity.

Her deep melancholy alternated with bursts of wild eloquence, with fantastic fables, with entreaties and warnings against sin, full of such pity and pathos that they melted, at times, the hardest hearts.

A whole world of strange tales, half false, half true, had grown up around her as she grew.

She was believed to spend whole nights in prayer; to speak with visitors from the other world; even to have the power of seeing into futurity.