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- Луиза Мэй Олкотт
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- Стр. 381/451
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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
BethSitting
patient
in
the
shadow
Till
the
blessed
light
shall
come
,
