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           Shehadamaturecapacityforfidelity,forbelief,forsuffering.Theroomseemedtohavegrowndarker,asifallthesadlightofthecloudyeveninghadtakenrefugeonherforehead.Thisfairhair,thispalevisage,thispurebrow,seemedsurroundedbyanashyhalofromwhichthedarkeyeslookedoutatme.Theirglancewasguileless,profound,confident,andtrustful.Shecarriedhersorrowfulheadasthoughshewereproudofthatsorrow,asthoughshewouldsay,‘I—Ialoneknowhowtomournforhimashedeserves.’Butwhilewewerestillshakinghands,suchalookofawfuldesolationcameuponherfacethatIperceivedshewasoneofthosecreaturesthatarenottheplaythingsofTime.Forherhehaddiedonlyyesterday.And,byJove!theimpressionwassopowerfulthatforme,too,heseemedtohavediedonlyyesterday—nay,thisveryminute.Isawherandhiminthesameinstantoftime—hisdeathandhersorrow—Isawhersorrowintheverymomentofhisdeath.Doyouunderstand?Isawthemtogether—Iheardthemtogether.Shehadsaid,withadeepcatchofthebreath,‘Ihavesurvived’whilemystrainedearsseemedtoheardistinctly,mingledwithhertoneofdespairingregret,thesummingupwhisperofhiseternalcondemnation.IaskedmyselfwhatIwasdoingthere,withasensationofpanicinmyheartasthoughIhadblunderedintoaplaceofcruelandabsurdmysteriesnotfitforahumanbeingtobehold.Shemotionedmetoachair.Wesatdown.Ilaidthepacketgentlyonthelittletable,andsheputherhandoverit...