It had been left at the hotel by a messenger only a few minutes since.
Trembling and breathless, I ran up the stairs, the two gentlemen following me.

The address of the letter was in my husband's handwriting.
My heart sank in me as I looked at the lines; there could be but one reason for his writing to me.

That closed envelope held his farewell words.

I sat with the letter on my lap, stupefied, incapable of opening it.
Kind-hearted Benjamin attempted to comfort and encourage me.

The Major, with his larger experience of women, warned the old man to be silent.
"Wait!" I heard him whisper.