Jane had long realized she was slightly insane. She had been happy about it. She knew she would choose, without even a hint of a doubt, a life of insanity over one of conformity or seriousness or formality, and she did. She would be insane for real if she had to be the person that society expected her to be.
She lived for herself, not for others. Hers was a beautiful life, sans regrets, albeit short.
Her community feared her and her strong conviction. They were also afraid that she would influence others. They made sure it did not happen.