“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。