“I’lltry，Beth。“AndthenandthereJorenouncedheroldambition，pledgedherselftoanewandbetterone，acknowledgingthepovertyofotherdesires，andfeelingtheblessedsolaceofabeliefintheimmortalityoflove。

　　Sothespringdayscameandwent，theskygrewclearer，theearthgreener，theflowerswereupfairlyearly，andthebirdscamebackintimetosaygoodbyetoBeth，who，likeatiredbuttrustfulchild，clungtothehandsthathadledherallherlife，asFatherandMotherguidedhertenderlythroughtheValleyoftheShadow，andgaveheruptoGod。

　　Seldomexceptinbooksdothedyinguttermemorablewords，seevisions，ordepartwithbeatifiedcountenances，andthosewhohavespedmanypartingsoulsknowthattomosttheendcomesasnaturallyandsimplyassleep。AsBethhadhoped，the`tidewentouteasily’，andinthedarkhourbeforedawn，onthebosomwhereshehaddrawnherfirstbreath，shequietlydrewherlast，withnofarewellbutonelovinglook，onelittlesigh。

　　Withtearsandprayersandtenderhands，Motherandsistersmadeherreadyforthelongsleepthatpainwouldnevermaragain，seeingwithgratefuleyesthebeautifulserenitythatsoonreplacedthepatheticpatiencethathadwrungtheirheartssolong，andfeelingwithreverentjoythattotheirdarlingdeathwasabenignantangel，notaphantomfullofdread。

　　Whenmorningcame，forthefirsttimeinmanymonthsthefirewasout，Jo’splacewasempty，andtheroomwasverystill。

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