The X-Files, Season 6

Mulder:
(mysteriously) Christmas, 1917. It was a time of dark, dark despair. American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe while at home, a deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike. Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with every man, woman and child. It was a time of dark, dark despair.

Scully:
(unimpressed) You said that.

Mulder:
But here at 1501 Larkspur Lane for a pair of star-crossed lovers tragedy came not from war or pestilence - not by the boot heel or the bombardier - but by their own innocent hand.

Scully:
Go on.

Mulder:
His name was Maurice. He was a... a brooding but heroic young man beloved of Lyda, a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went. They were likened to two angels descended from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, grey earth.

Scully:
And what happened to them?

Mulder:
Driven by a tragic fear of separation they forged a lovers' pact so that they might spend eternity together and not spend one precious Christmas apart.

Scully:
They killed themselves?

Mulder:
And their ghosts haunt this house every Christmas Eve. (Scully laughs) I just gave myself chills.

Scully:
It's a good story, Mulder, and very well told, but I don't believe it.