When the first bitterness was over, the family accepted the inevitable, and tried to bear it cheerfully, helping one another by the increased affection which comes to bind households tenderly together in times of trouble. They put away their grief, and each did his or her part toward making that last year a happy one.
The pleasantest room in the house was set apart for Beth, and in it was gathered everything that she most loved, flowers, pictures, her piano, the little worktable, and the beloved pussies. Father's best books found their way there, Mother's easy chair, Jo's desk, Amy's finest sketches, and every day Meg brought her babies on a loving pilgrimage, to make sunshine for Aunty Beth. John quietly set apart a little sum, that he might enjoy the pleasure of keeping the invalid supplied with the fruit she loved and longed for. Old Hannah never wearied of concocting dainty dishes to tempt a capricious appetite, dropping tears as she worked, and from across the sea came little gifts and cheerful letters, seeming to bring breaths of warmth and fragrance from lands that know no winter.
Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever, for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for those who should remain behind. The feeble fingers were never idle, and one of her pleasures was to make little things for the school children daily passing to and fro, to drop a pair of mittens from her window for a pair of purple hands, a needlebook for some small mother of many dolls, penwipers for young penmen toiling through forests of pothooks, scrapbooks for picture-loving eyes, and all manner of pleasant devices, till the reluctant climbers of the ladder of learning found their way strewn with flowers, as it were, and came to regard the gentle giver as a sort of fairy godmother, who sat above there, and showered down gifts miraculously suited to their tastes and needs. If Beth had wanted any reward, she found it in the bright little faces always turned up to her window, with nods and smiles, and the droll little letters which came to her, full of blots and gratitude.
The first few months were very happy ones, and Beth often used to look round, and say "How beautiful this is!" as they all sat together in her sunny room, the babies kicking and crowing on the floor, mother and sisters working near, and father reading, in his pleasant voice, from the wise old books which seemed rich in good and comfortable words, as applicable now as when written centuries ago, a little chapel, where a paternal priest taught his flock the hard lessons all must learn, trying to show them that hope can comfort love, and faith make resignation possible. Simple sermons, that went straight to the souls of those who listened, for the father's heart was in the minister's religion, and the frequent falter in the voice gave a double eloquence to the words he spoke or read.
It was well for all that this peaceful time was given them as preparation for the sad hours to come, for by-and-by, Beth said the needle was 'so heavy', and put it down forever. Talking wearied her, faces troubled her, pain claimed her for its own, and her tranquil spirit was sorrowfully perturbed by the ills that vexed her feeble flesh. Ah me! Such heavy days, such long, long nights, such aching hearts and imploring prayers, when those who loved her best were forced to see the thin hands stretched out to them beseechingly, to hear the bitter cry, "Help me, help me!" and to feel that there was no help. A sad eclipse of the serene soul, a sharp struggle of the young life with death, but both were mercifully brief, and then the natural rebellion over, the old peace returned more beautiful than ever. With the wreck of her frail body, Beth's soul grew strong, and though she said little, those about her felt that she was ready, saw that the first pilgrim called was likewise the fittest, and waited with her on the shore, trying to see the Shining Ones coming to receive her when she crossed the river.
Jo never left her for an hour since Beth had said "I feel stronger when you are here." She slept on a couch in the room, waking often to renew the fire, to feed, lift, or wait upon the patient creature who seldom asked for anything, and 'tried not to be a trouble'. All day she haunted the room, jealous of any other nurse, and prouder of being chosen then than of any honor her life ever brought her. Precious and helpful hours to Jo, for now her heart received the teaching that it needed. Lessons in patience were so sweetly taught her that she could not fail to learn them, charity for all, the lovely spirit that can forgive and truly forget unkindness, the loyalty to duty that makes the hardest easy, and the sincere faith that fears nothing, but trusts undoubtingly.
Often when she woke Jo found Beth reading in her well-worn little book, heard her singing softly, to beguile the sleepless night, or saw her lean her face upon her hands, while slow tears dropped through the transparent fingers, and Jo would lie watching her with thoughts too deep for tears, feeling that Beth, in her simple, unselfish way, was trying to wean herself from the dear old life, and fit herself for the life to come, by sacred words of comfort, quiet prayers, and the music she loved so well.
Seeing this did more for Jo than the wisest sermons, the saintliest hymns, the most fervent prayers that any voice could utter. For with eyes made clear by many tears, and a heart softened by the tenderest sorrow, she recognized the beauty of her sister's life--uneventful, unambitious, yet full of the genuine virtues which 'smell sweet, and blossom in the dust', the self-forgetfulness that makes the humblest on earth remembered soonest in heaven, the true success which is possible to all.
One night when Beth looked among the books upon her table, to find something to make her forget the mortal weariness that was almost as hard to bear as pain, as she turned the leaves of her old favorite, Pilgrims's Progress, she found a little paper, scribbled over in Jo's hand. The name caught her eye and the blurred look of the lines made her sure that tears had fallen on it.
"Poor Jo! She's fast asleep, so I won't wake her to ask leave. She shows me all her things, and I don't think she'll mind if I look at this", thought Beth, with a glance at her sister, who lay on the rug, with the tongs beside her, ready to wake up the minute the log fell apart.
MY BETH
Sitting patient in the shadow Till the blessed light shall come, A serene and saintly presence Sanctifies our troubled home. Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows Break like ripples on the strand Of the deep and solemn river Where her willing feet now stand.
O my sister, passing from me, Out of human care and strife, Leave me, as a gift, those virtues Which have beautified your life. Dear, bequeath me that great patience Which has power to sustain A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit In its prison-house of pain.
Give me, for I need it sorely, Of that courage, wise and sweet, Which has made the path of duty Green beneath your willing feet. Give me that unselfish nature, That with charity devine Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake-- Meek heart, forgive me mine!
Thus our parting daily loseth Something of its bitter pain, And while learning this hard lesson, My great loss becomes my gain. For the touch of grief will render My wild nature more serene, Give to life new aspirations, A new trust in the unseen.
Henceforth, safe across the river, I shall see forever more A beloved, household spirit Waiting for me on the shore. Hope and faith, born of my sorrow, Guardian angels shall become, And the sister gone before me By their hands shall lead me home.
Blurred and blotted, faulty and feeble as the lines were, they brought a look of inexpressible comfort to Beth's face, for her one regret had been that she had done so little, and this seemed to assure her that her life had not been useless, that her death would not bring the despair she feared. As she sat with the paper folded between her hands, the charred log fell asunder. Jo started up, revived the blaze, and crept to the bedside, hoping Beth slept.
"Not asleep, but so happy, dear. See, I found this and read it. I knew you wouldn't care. Have I been all that to you, Jo?" she asked, with wistful, humble earnestness.
"_Oh_, Beth, so much, so much!" and Jo's head went down upon the pillow beside her sister's.
"Then I don't feel as if I'd wasted my life. I'm not so good as you make me, but I have tried to do right. And now, when it's too late to begin even to do better, it's such a comfort to know that someone loves me so much, and feels as if I'd helped them."
"More than any one in the world, Beth. I used to think I couldn't let you go, but I'm learning to feel that I don't lose you, that you'll be more to me than ever, and death can't part us, though it seems to."
"I know it cannot, and I don't fear it any longer, for I'm sure I shall be your Beth still, to love and help you more than ever. You must take my place, Jo, and be everything to Father and Mother when I'm gone. They will turn to you, don't fail them, and if it's hard to work alone, remember that I don't forget you, and that you'll be happier in doing that than writing splendid books or seeing all the world, for love is the only thing that we can carry with us when we go, and it makes the end so easy."
"I'll try, Beth." and then and there Jo renounced her old ambition, pledged herself to a new and better one, acknowledging the poverty of other desires, and feeling the blessed solace of a belief in the immortality of love.
So the spring days came and went, the sky grew clearer, the earth greener, the flowers were up fairly early, and the birds came back in time to say goodbye to Beth, who, like a tired but trustful child, clung to the hands that had led her all her life, as Father and Mother guided her tenderly through the Valley of the Shadow, and gave her up to God.
Seldom except in books do the dying utter memorable words, see visions, or depart with beatified countenances, and those who have sped many parting souls know that to most the end comes as naturally and simply as sleep. As Beth had hoped, the 'tide went out easily', and in the dark hour before dawn, on the bosom where she had drawn her first breath, she quietly drew her last, with no farewell but one loving look, one little sigh.
With tears and prayers and tender hands, Mother and sisters made her ready for the long sleep that pain would never mar again, seeing with grateful eyes the beautiful serenity that soon replaced the pathetic patience that had wrung their hearts so long, and feeling with reverent joy that to their darling death was a benignant angel, not a phantom full of dread.
When morning came, for the first time in many months the fire was out, Jo's place was empty, and the room was very still. But a bird sang blithely on a budding bough, close by, the snowdrops blossomed freshly at the window, and the spring sunshine streamed in like a benediction over the placid face upon the pillow, a face so full of painless peace that those who loved it best smiled through their tears, and thanked God that Beth was well at last.
最初的痛苦过去了，全家人接受了那不可避免的事实。他们试图达观地直面它，用更多的爱相互帮助。在困境中，这种温馨之爱将全家人连结到一处。他们抛开悲伤，每个人都尽自己的力量，让贝思最后一年过得快乐。
家里最舒适的屋子腾出来给了贝思，她最喜欢的东西都集中到屋里来了- 花朵、像片、她的钢琴、小工作桌，以及得宠的猫咪们。爸爸最好的书本也进了屋，还有妈妈的安乐椅，乔的写作桌，艾美最好的素描草图。梅格每天带两个孩子过来，虔诚地拜望贝思阿姨，为她制造快乐。约翰默默地留出一小笔钱，以保证病人能有她喜欢吃的和想吃的水果，这样他也能心有所安。老罕娜嬷嬷不厌其烦地烹制爽口的菜肴，来提高她那时好时坏的食欲；她一边做菜一边流泪。从大洋那边没有冬日的国度邮递过来的一些小礼品和信函送给她温温爱意、馥馥香馨。
贝思坐在这里，像是供奉在壁龛里的家庭圣贤。她像往常一样宁静、忙碌，什么也改变不了她那甜美、无私的品性，即便准备告别人世，她也试图使留下来继续活下去的人们快乐一些。她那虚弱的手指从未闲过，她的乐事之一便是为每天从旁经过的学童们制作小东西在窗口放一两双手套，这是为冻紫了的手准备的；放个书形针盒，给某位拥有许多玩具娃娃的小母亲；放一些擦笔尖布，给那些在歪七竖八的笔划丛林里辛勤劳作的小书法家们；再放一些剪贴簿，给那些爱画画的孩子们；还有各种各样令人愉快的小玩意，直到那些极不情愿地攀登着学问阶梯的孩子们发现，他们的前进道路上鲜花灿烂。这时他们把那亲切的馈赠者看作是童话中的仙女。她坐在那上边，神秘地为他们抛投各种各样的心想之物。那些明亮的小脸蛋常出现在她的窗口，朝她点头笑着。
她也收到了些引人发笑的小小信件，里面满是感激，也满是墨渍。倘使贝思想得到什么回报的话，她已从中得到了回报。
开始的几个月非常幸福。贝思常常环视屋内，说：“这多美妙啊！”大家都在她洒满阳光的屋子里坐在一起。两个孩子在地上踢着、欢闹着；妈妈和姐姐们在近旁做着活儿；爸爸用悦耳的声音读着那些古老而又充满智慧的书。书本里似乎有大量劝慰人的善言，如同几个世纪前写出时一样，一点也没有过时。这屋子成了一个小教堂，充当牧师的父亲在给他的羔羊们讲解那所有人必须学会的艰难课程，他试图向她们指出，希望能抚慰爱心，信仰能使人听从命运安排。简单的说教直入听者的心灵，爸爸沉浸在牧师的教义中，他那时而发颤的声音使他宣讲或朗读的语句愈加具有穿透力。
大家都很满意，因为他们享有了这段宁静的时光，为迎接那些悲哀时刻的到来做好了准备。不久，贝思便说针"太重了"，她永远地放下了针；说话使她疲倦，看到人们的脸孔使她心烦；疼痛攫住了她，病痛搅乱了她那平静的心灵，侵扰着她那虚弱的肉体。哦，天哪！多么沉重的白天！多么漫长的夜晚！多么痛苦的心灵！多么虔诚的祈祷！那些深爱她的人们被迫看着她哀求地向她们伸出瘦弱的双手，听着她痛苦地叫着：“救救我！救救我！”同时也懂得了绝望的滋味。一个安祥的灵魂惨然销蚀，一个年轻的生命与死神展开激烈的搏斗。仁慈的是，灵与肉的搏斗为时不长。后来，那种本能的反抗便结束了，她又恢复了以前的那种宁静状态而且更加动人。带着虚弱的病体，贝思的精神愈发坚强了。尽管她不说什么，但她身边的人们感觉到了她已做好远行的准备。他们晓得，被召唤的第一个朝圣者是品行最合格的人眩他们和她一起在岸边等候，希望在她驶向彼岸之时能看见前来迎接她的光彩夺目的天使们。
贝思对乔说：“你在这里我感到有力些。”她这样说过后，乔离开她的时间再也没超过一小时。她睡在屋里的长沙发上，夜里常醒来添点火，喂她食物，搀扶她坐起或服侍汤药，而这个病人极少使唤她，”尽量不成为麻烦"。乔整天留在屋里，不满意那些护士，她为能陪伴贝思感到自豪，这种自豪超过了生活带给她的任何荣耀。这些时光对乔来说既宝贵又有益。
现在她真诚地接受了她所需要的教导：忍耐这一人生课程以这样美好的方式教给了她，她不能不学会。还有博爱，这种可贵的精神能宽恕别人并真正地忘却不和善的行为。还有恪尽职守，能化难难为坦途；以及那无所畏惧、毫不怀疑的信任中包含的真诚信念。
乔夜里醒来时，常发现贝思在读着她那本翻得很旧了的小书，听到她低低地唱着，以打发不眠之夜，有时贝思手捧着脸，眼泪慢慢地从那透明的指缝里滴下来。这时，乔总是躺着注视着她。乔想得很深，顾不得流泪了。她觉着，贝思用她那种简单、无私的方式，通过神圣的安慰话语、静静的祈祷以及她深爱的音乐，在试图使自己脱离这宝贵的人生，适应来世的生活。
最有智慧的说教、最圣洁的赞美诗，以及任何声音能说出的最炽烈的祷告，都不及看到的这些对乔的影响深巨。流了许多泪，眼睛反倒看清楚了。经受了最震撼人心的痛苦，心也变软了。她看到了妹妹的生命之美――平平淡淡、朴朴实实，可是都充满了真正的美德，”散发着芬芳，在尘埃中怒放"。那种忘我的品德使世间最谦卑的人在天堂被人间永久铭记。这种真正的成功每个人都可能得到。
一天夜里，贝思在桌上的书中找着，想找些什么读读，忘掉临终的厌倦，这种厌倦几乎和疼痛一样难以忍受。她翻着以前最喜爱的《天路历程》，发现了一张小纸片，上面涂满了乔的笔迹。一个名字吸引了她的目光，模糊的字行使她确信曾有眼泪掉落在上面。
“可怜的乔！她睡熟了，所以我不弄醒她请求允许了。她给我看她所有的东西，我想，要是我看了这个她不会介意的，”贝思想。她瞥了一眼姐姐，乔躺在地毯上，身边放着火钳，准备一当木柴烧散架，便醒来添火。
我的贝思
耐心地坐在阴影里，
直至那福光来临，
祥和圣洁的姿容，
使不安的家庭变得神圣。
人间的欢乐、希望与痛苦，
像阵阵涟漪，在河滩飞迸。
在那神圣的深深河流中，
她甘心情愿地将双脚蹚进。
哦，妹妹，你就要离我远去。
不再有人类的忧虑与竞争，
作为礼物，你留给我这些美德，
它们曾美化你的生命。
亲爱的，你遗赠我伟大的耐心，
它有力量支撑，
一个愉快、无怨的灵魂，
忍受监狱生活般的苦痛。
给我吧，我迫切地需要它，
那智慧与温情，
它曾使人生使命之路，
在你脚下如愿常青。
给我那无私的品性吧，
带着圣洁的博爱之心，
为爱之故，它能宽恕罪行-
宽恕我吧，仁惠之心！
时光消隐，我们如此分别，
至创深深。
艰难的人生课程，
我以至大牺牲换取收成。
抚摸不幸，
我之野性趋于和宁。
赐与我新生的渴望，
灵魂世界之信心。
未来人生，平安伫立对岸，
我将永远看见，
一个可爱的家庭之神，
在岸边候我殷殷。
希望与信念，由痛苦而生，
便是那守护天神，
还有妹妹，走在我前，
拉着我手，引领我回家之程。
虽然诗行字迹模糊，墨渍点点，诗句有些毛病，也不太有力，可是贝思读了，脸上露出无法表述的欣慰神色。她的遗憾之一便是她做的事太少，这首诗似乎使她确信，她的生命并非无益，而她的死亡不会带给人们她所担心的那种绝望。
她坐在那儿，手里拿着这张折叠起来的纸片，烧焦了的木头倒了下来，乔一惊而起，她拨亮了火，爬到床边，她料想贝思睡着了。
“没有睡着，但是非常幸福，亲爱的。瞧，我发现了这个，读过了，我知道你不会介意的。乔，我对你是那样的吗？”她带着既渴望又恭顺的认真神情问道。
“哦，贝思，你给我的太多，太多了！”乔的头落到了妹妹旁边的枕头上。
“那么我就感到似乎没有浪费生命。我并不像你写的那样好，但是我只想去做正确的事情。现在，想开始做更好的事也已经晚了。可是知道了有人这么爱我，感到我似乎帮助过她们，真的是令人无上安慰。”“我爱你胜过世上任何人，贝思。我过去认为我不能放你走，可是我学着体会到我并没有失去你，你比以前对我的意义更大，死亡隔不开我们，尽管看上去是这样。”“我知道隔不开的，我不再害怕了。我确信我仍然是你的贝思，我会比以前更爱你，更好地帮助你。乔，我走后你得代替我，做爸爸妈妈的贴心人。他们会依赖你的，别让他们失望。要是孤独很难忍受，记住我没有忘记你。记住做那些事，你会感到比写那些伟大的书，或者周游整个世界更加快乐。因为，我们离开人世时爱是唯一能带走的东西，它使生命的结束变得轻松。”“我会做到的，贝思。”乔当时当地放弃了她以前的抱负，发誓实现这一新的、更好的抱负。她承认了其他愿望的空泛。
对不朽之爱的信念使她感受到了神圣的安慰。
就这样，春季一天天过去了，天空变得更加净朗，地上草儿愈发绿了，花儿们早早地便盛开了，鸟儿们及时飞回来向贝思道别。贝思像个疲倦却满怀信任的孩子，她紧握着领着她走过一生的父母的手，他们亲切地引着她穿过死荫的幽谷，然后将她交付给上帝。
除了书中描写的，垂死之人极少说出令人难忘的话语，或是看到显圣，带着极乐的神态辞世。那些多次送终的人知道，对大多数人来说，生命的结束如同睡眠一般自然、简单。正如贝思希望的那样，”潮流轻易地消退了"。
黎明前的黑暗时刻，偎在她来到人世第一次呼吸时所依的那个胸膛上，她静静地咽了气。她没有道别，只有那一片深情，一声小小的叹息。
妈妈和姐姐们哭着，祈祷着，她们轻手轻脚地为她的长眠做着准备。现在疼痛再也不能破坏她的睡眠了。她们心存感激地看到，美丽的宁静气氛很快便代替了悲哀的忍耐，这种心情已折磨她们这么长时间了。她们带着虔诚的喜悦之情感到，对她们的宝贝来说，死亡是一个仁慈的天使，而不是一个充满恐惧的鬼怪。
早晨来临时，这许多月中的第一次，炉火熄灭了，乔的位置空了，屋子里寂静无声。然而，附近一只鸟栖息在正发芽的树枝上欢快地唱着，窗边的雪花莲刚刚绽开。春日的阳光泻进屋里，照在枕头上那宁静的脸庞上，像是为她祝福 -那张脸充满了没有疼痛的宁静。于是深爱她的人们透过泪眼笑了，她们感谢上帝，贝思终于得救了。