"In the everlasting arms," he whispered faintly, then pointed to a picture of Arthur on the table. Beth brought it to him. He looked at it tenderly, then gave it back to her. He tried to say something, and she bent over him to catch the words, but all was silent there; his eyes were closed, his lips set in a smile. Her head sank upon his breast. "Papa!" she cried.
No answer, not even the sound of heartbeats. There was a noiseless step at her side, and she fell back, unconscious, into May's arms. When she came to again she was in her own room, and Mr. Perth was by her side. Then the sense of her loss swept over her, and he let her grief have its way for a while.
"My child," he said at last, bending over her. How those two words soothed her! He talked to her tenderly for a little while, and she looked much calmer when May came back.
But the strain had been too much for her, and she was quite ill all the next day. She lay listening to the strange footsteps coming and going in the halls, for everyone came to take a last look at one whom all loved and honored. There was the old woman whom he had helped and encouraged, hobbling on her cane to give him a last look and blessing; there was the poor man whose children he had attended free of charge, the hand of whose dying boy he had held; there was the little ragged girl, who looked up through her tears and said, "He was good to me." Then came the saddest moment Beth had ever known, when they led her down for the last time to his side. She scarcely saw the crowded room, the flowers that were strewn everywhere.
It was all over. The last words were said, and they led her out to the carriage. The sun was low in the west that afternoon when the Perths took her to the parsonage—"home to the parsonage," as she always said after that. Aunt Prudence came to bid her good-bye before she went away to live with her married son, and Beth never realized before how much she loved the dear old creature who had watched over her from her childhood. Just once before she returned to college she went back to look at the old home, with its shutters closed and the snow-drifts on its walks. She had thought her future was to be spent there, and now where would her path be guided?
"Thou knowest, Lord," she said faintly.
CHAPTER XI.
LOVE.
In the soft flush of the following spring Beth returned to the parsonage at Briarsfield. It was so nice to see the open country again after the city streets. Mr. Perth met her at the station just as the sun was setting, and there was a curious smile on his face. He was a little silent on the way home, as if he had something on his mind; but evidently it was nothing unpleasant. The parsonage seemed hidden among the apple-blossoms, and Mrs. Perth came down the walk to meet them, looking so fair and smiling, and why—she had something white in her arms! Beth bounded forward to meet her.