A tremor first, then a convulsive sobbing, shook her collapsed form.

Jean regarded her with a drolly sympathetic grimace, elevating his long chin and letting his head settle back between his shoulders.
"Oh, Jean, Jean!" she cried at last, looking up and reaching out her arms; "O Jean, he is gone, gone, gone!" Jean stepped closer to her while she sobbed again like a little child.
She pulled him to her and held him tightly against her breast while she once more read the note through blinding tears.

The words were few, but to her they bore the message of desolation and despair.

A great, haunting, hollow voice in her heart repeated them until they echoed from vague distance to distance.
It was written with a bit of lead on the half of a mildewed fly-leaf torn from the book: "Dear Alice: "I am going away.

When you read this, think of me as hurrying through the wilderness to reach our army and bring it here.