She must jump forth boldly, or the river would not take her.

Ah! what if it were so-- that the saint who stood over her, and whose cross she had so lately kissed, would not let her perish from beneath his feet?
In these moments her mind wandered in a maze of religious doubts and fears, and she entertained, unconsciously, enough of doctrinal scepticism to found a school of freethinkers.

Could it be that God would punish her with everlasting torments because in her agony she was driven to this as her only mode of relief?
Would there be no measuring of her sins against her sorrows, and no account taken of the simplicity of her life?
She looked up towards heaven, not praying in words, but with a prayer in her heart.

For her there could be no absolution, no final blessing.

The act of her going would be an act of terrible sin.