“My darling, hush, hush!” Olga’s arms held her faster still.  “There is no such place,” she said—­“at least not in the sense you mean.  You are torturing yourself, dear one, and you mustn’t.  Don’t dwell on these dreadful things!  You are quite, quite safe, here in my arms, with the love of God round us.  Think of that, and don’t be afraid!”

“But I am afraid,” moaned Violet.  “It’s the outer darkness, Allegro.  And you won’t be there.  And the door will be shut—­always shut.  Oh, can’t you do anything to save me?  You’re not like Max.  You’re not paid to keep people back.  Can’t you—­can’t you find a way out for me?  Couldn’t you open the prison-door before he comes again, and let me slip through?  I’ve never been a prisoner before.  I’ve always come and gone as I liked.  And now—­twice over—­he has dragged me back from the Gate of Paradise.  Oh, Allegro, I shall never get there unless you help me.  Quick, dear, quick!  Help me now!”

She had turned in Olga’s arms.  She raised an imploring face.  She clung about her neck.

“Isn’t there a way of escape?” she urged feverishly.  “Can’t you think of one?”

But Olga looked back in silence, white and still.

“Allegro, don’t you love me?  Don’t you want me to be happy?” Incredulity, despair were in the pleading voice.  “Don’t you believe in paradise either, Allegro?  Do you want me to be shut away in the dark—­buried alive—­buried alive?”

There was suddenly a note of anguish in the appeal.  Violet drew herself slowly away, as though her friend’s arms had ceased to be a haven to her.

But instantly, with a swiftness that was passionate, Olga caught her back.

“I would die for you, my darling!  I would sell my soul for you!” she said, and fierce mother-love throbbed in her voice.  “But what can I do?  O God! what can I do?”

Her voice broke, and she stilled it sharply, as if taken off her guard.

“Can’t you open the door for me?” Violet begged again.  “Don’t you know how?”

But still Olga had no answer for the cry.  Only she held her fast.

There followed a long, long pause; then again Violet spoke, more collectedly than she had spoken at all.

“Do you know what that man said to me this morning?  He told me I should be a homicidal maniac—­like my mother.  I didn’t realize at the time what that meant.  I was too horrified.  I know now.  And it was the truth.  That’s what I want you to save me from.  Allegro, won’t you save me?”

“My darling, how can I?” The words were spoken below Olga’s breath.  The gathering darkness was closing upon them both.

Violet freed a hand and softly stroked her cheek.  “Don’t be afraid, dear!  No one—­but I—­will ever know.  And I—­ Allegro, I shall bless you for ever and ever.  Wait!” She suddenly started, with caught breath.  “Are we alone?”

“Mrs. Briggs is outside, dear,” Olga told her gently.