"Although charged, conjointly with my Sisters, to watch over the welfare of the house, I knew nothing of what passed in it. For four years I occupied myself with a little sewing, remaining all the time in the infirmary. I slept there, took my meals there, on account of my great age, they said, and that I might be a companion for Sister Crolo, who could no longer go to the refectory. I held no conversation with the Sisters, very rarely went to our chapel, as we of the infirmary could easily hear Mass from our apartment, it being so constructed as to open directly fronting the altar. Yet my former disquiet returned, and I knew not what to determine on, because I could not divest myself of the idea that God required greater perfection from the community than I saw practised in it. It is true they tried to console me by asserting that all was well, and that I might set my mind at rest. I answered them nothing, but I could not conceal from myself that relaxation existed, and that I was the cause of it. I suffered more in this perplexity of mind than I can ever explain." She sighed sadly during her stay in the infirmary, until it pleased God to let peace again dawn upon her soul, by imparting to her a spirit of sensible and tender devotion, and by permitting her to return to the ordinary way in living in her institute during the few remaining years of her life. On the night of July 5th, 1697, as she was meditating on the means of repairing the faults of which she believed herself guilty, a _thought_, as distinct as a _voice_, told her she was the Jonas of the Congregation, and that like him, she deserved to be cast into the sea. To this interior voice she could only reply that she was willing to do all in her power to contribute to the glory of God, and do his will. Then the strange inspiration ceased, but on the following night it returned more strongly and vividly than at first, making her understand, like Samuel in the temple, that _God had spoken_; that it was time to renounce the ideal perfection which tormented her, and that a blind obedience to her directors was her only remedy. She therefore opened her heart to the confessor of the community, M. de Valens, and also to M. Caillen, pastor of Ville-Marie, who decided on sending her to her superior, there to disclose all the anxious thoughts that agitated her soul, and speak of whatever she conceived to be for the welfare of the Congregation. The docile Sister did as directed, and in order to give her useful and practical occupation, the superior told her to write what the Holy Spirit would inspire for the guidance of the institute she had so happily founded. These precious manuscripts are replete with lessons of divine wisdom, and it is from their pages her children still select the beautiful instructions and maxims that keep her spirit alive among them. Her heart being thus freed from its silent agony, she found herself at last completely delivered from the torture she had so long endured, her