The house was a shrine consecrated by suffering and sorrow.
The third month passed, and still she lingered.

For seven weeks she took no nourishment but half a cup of milk, two parts water, per day.

Then her appetite returned and her agony increased, but still with no lament save: "My Father! Is it not enough ?" In the sixth month, January 17th, 1840, relief came.

As I knelt for her last words, she said: "Elizabeth ?" I replied, "She is here, dear mother, what of her ?" Summoning strength she said: "Let no one separate you!" then looked up and said, "It is enough," and breathed no more.
As her spirit rose, it broke the cloud, and the divine presence fell upon me.

The room, the world was full of peace.