From time to time the road of life which she was pursuing used to be shown to her, leading to the top of a mountain on which was a shining and resplendent city--the heavenly Jerusalem.

Often she would think she had arrived at that blissful abode, which seemed to be quite near her, and her joy would be great.

But all on a sudden she would discover that she was still separated from it by a valley and then she would have to descend precipices and follow indirect paths, labouring, suffering, and performing deeds of charity everywhere.

She had to direct wanderers into the right road, raise up the fallen, sometimes even carry the paralytic, and drag the unwilling by force, and all these deeds of charity were as so many fresh weights fastened to her cross.

Then she walked with more difficulty, bending beneath her burden and sometimes even falling to the ground.
In 1823 she repeated more frequently than usual that she could not perform her task in her present situation, that she had not strength for it, and that it was in a peaceful convent that she needed to have lived and died.