A whole generation has passed since then, and no one has been able to contradict their statements, or explain the phenomena on any _natural_ principles. For thirty years every one could behold her in ecstasy or agony, and see the wounds plainly on her hands and feet, while she remained ever humble, meek, modest as a child, and intensely pious and holy. Her history could be written in two words: "_She suffers, and contemplates_." She was a passion-flower clinging to the foot of the cross. In ecstasy she spent her life, contemplating the sufferings of Jesus Christ, praying for all, for the church, and for her native land; doing good to countless poor people, alleviating their sorrows, like the divine Master who dwelt in the recesses of her soul. Three years before her death she lost her confessor, Father Capistran, who had guided her soul for almost forty years. He was a distinguished theologian, a good priest, and had been judged worthy to be chosen provincial of his order, the Franciscans. He died on the 4th of May, 1865. She mourned his death like a child, and longed more than ever to be dissolved and be with Christ. Her wish was soon gratified. She became very weak in the autumn of 1867, and the numerous visits she was compelled to receive, as well as the frequent requests made of her, completely prostrated her physical powers. The number of pilgrims to her "Swallows' Nest," as Görres called her abode near the Franciscan church, was extraordinary; men, women, priests, and laity, all came to her shrine.