"And that is worse than—madness?"
"I should say much worse."
"I see." She passed a hand across her eyes, and very suddenly she shivered and seemed to awake. "Oh, is it quite hopeless?" she asked him piteously. "Are you sure?"
"It is quite hopeless," he said.
"She can never be herself again—not even by a miracle?"
"Such miracles don't happen," said Max, with grim decision. "It is much the same as a person going blind. There are occasional gleams for a little while, but the end is total darkness. That is all that can be expected now." He added, a hint of compassion mingling with the repression of his voice: "It is better that you should know the whole truth. It's not fair to bolster you up with false hopes. You can help now—if you have the strength. You won't be able to help later."
"But I will never leave her!" Olga said.
"My dear child," he made answer, "in a very little while she won't even know you. She will be—as good as dead."
"Surely she would be better dead!" she cried passionately.
"God knows," said Max.