Now that I was a nun, I was occasionally sent to read lectures to the
novices, as other nuns had been while I was a novice. There were but few
of us, who were thought capable of reading English well enough, and
therefore, I was more frequently sent than I might otherwise have been.
The Superior often said to me, as I was going among the novices:

"Try to convert them--save their souls--you know you will have a higher
place in heaven for every one you convert."

For whatever reason, Mad Jane Ray seemed to take great delight in
crossing and provoking the Superior and old nuns; and often she would
cause an interruption when it was most inconvenient and displeasing to
them. The preservation of silence was insisted upon most rigidly, and
penances of such a nature were imposed for breaking it, that it was a
constant source of uneasiness with me, to know that I might infringe the
rules in so many ways, and that inattention might at any moment subject
me to something very unpleasant. During the periods of meditation,
therefore, and those of lecture, work, and repose, I kept a strict guard
upon myself, to escape penances, as well as to avoid sin; and the
silence of the other nuns, convinced me that they were equally watchful,
and from the same motives.

My feelings, however, varied at different times, and so did those of
many, if not all my companions, excepting the older ones, who took their
turns in watching us. We sometimes felt disposed for gaiety, and threw
off all ideas that talking was sinful, even when forbidden by the rules
of the Convent. And even when I felt that I might perhaps be doing
wrong, I reflected that confession, and certainly penance, would soon
wipe off the guilt.