As I drew near the end of this devotion, I began to have again great troubles of mind and temptations, so that as soon as I had confessed, I was obliged to call again for my confessor. My ghostly father was strangely surprised to see the troubles I had, which were, I think, worse than ever. I remember the last Friday but one having called for him the second or third time before I could communicate. As he went from my bedside, he turned back and said he thought God designed to try me in all things, and he did what he could to comfort me. I had now less hope of the Saint's curing me than ever, because I had heard in the relation of the miracles that towards the end of the devotion they used to grow better, and I found myself worse in body and mind. Yet I had some little spark of hope left, though very much darkened, that the Saint would obtain for me what was most for the good of my soul. I was sometimes in such anguish that I had very little sense of this, and was often tempted not to go on with the devotion, nor to ask other prayers, thinking all would do me no good. But God gave me grace to overcome this, and to beg all the prayers I could. I procured some Masses to be said, and some alms to be given the last Friday, though I did all this with a kind of repugnance.