Love, Honor and Obey

Again she left me, this time crossing the room and throwing herself
upon a couch, where she cried softly, like one who has an incurable
sorrow which must at times break out in tears. After all, tears are the
safety valves of nervous expansion, and there are times when they save
the heart and the brain from bursting. I knew that, and I left her to
herself. But I also believed that she had not yet told me quite all;
that there must be a sequel to all this, and I was soon to hear it.
After watching her for a long time, I left my seat and went to her.

She raised her head from the pillow, and looked at me, and I have never
seen such a combination of emotions expressed in one glance, as there
was in her eyes at that instant. Love for me, sympathy for the fate of
the man whose story she had told, sorrow for that poor sister.

"There is more?" I asked.

"Very little more. I have not yet told you why I am a nihilist, and
that is what this story is for. Yvonne was my most intimate friend. I
loved her as I would have loved--no,--better than I could have loved a
sister. Her brother Stanislaus, was my betrothed. We were to have been
married within the year when Yvonne was taken away. Now you know all";
and she turned her head away again. I could see that she had dreaded
this confession.